Greenwich Park(79)

I glance at her uncertainly. She rolls her eyes. ‘Come on, I can take it,’ she says firmly.

I feel blood rush into my cheeks as I recall the conversation. ‘He was maddening, actually. He kept saying they were friends, and that he only kept the fact that they knew each other a secret because she asked him to. He claims he doesn’t know about her pregnancy – or lack of it. Or why she wanted to keep it a secret that they knew each other. And that he didn’t ask.’

‘That doesn’t make sense.’

‘I know. But you know what he’s like. He doesn’t talk to me. He’s probably told the police more than he’s told me.’

Katie finishes her slice, presses her fingers into her eye sockets.

‘I don’t know what to think,’ she says quietly.

The rain is picking up. It occurs to me how much safer I feel here in Katie’s flat than I do at home. Earlier, when I arrived, I pressed a set of spare keys to our house into her hand. ‘When the baby comes,’ I said, ‘would you mind – if I have to stay in hospital with the baby – coming and feeding Monty, keeping the plants alive?’ She looked at me. I knew what she was thinking. It was a long way to come to feed the cat. But for some reason, I felt strongly that I wanted her to have them. I wanted to entrust the house to her. In case something happened. I didn’t think too much about what. She nodded, slipped the keys into her bag. Of course, she said.

‘You know,’ I say, ‘before she left – before all this Charlie stuff – I was starting to think something was going on between Rachel and Rory.’

‘Rory? Jesus. Why?’

I tell her about the two notes I found, the first one in Rory and Serena’s bathroom, then the other one in Rachel’s suitcase.

Katie looks at me, one eyebrow raised. ‘You just found them, Helen?’

‘All right,’ I mutter.

‘What did they say, these notes?’

‘Nothing really. I couldn’t understand them. One said “wear to show me”. I never read the other one – just saw the initial.’ I pause. ‘But you’ve got to admit it’s weird. Finding them in his house and then in her suitcase.’

‘I guess so.’ Katie nods slowly, but I can see she is unconvinced.

‘It’s not just that that made me think it,’ I add. ‘Do you remember how Lisa thought she remembered Rachel?’

Katie furrows her brow. ‘Oh yeah. I thought that was odd.’

‘And the way Rory reacted, when he saw Rachel in his kitchen. Remember, when he dropped all that glass?’

‘You don’t know that was because of Rachel.’

I sigh. She is right.

‘You think I’m an idiot.’

‘No, Helen. I don’t think that. You need to stop putting yourself down. But I mean – I just think it doesn’t prove anything. And it certainly doesn’t explain what was going on with her and Charlie – unless – hang on … If Charlie knew her from the club – could Rory have met Rachel through him?’

I consider this. ‘I suppose that would explain why Charlie was told to keep it secret that he knew her.’ I chew my lip. ‘Oh God, Katie. Do you really think Rory could have been having an affair with her? And hiding it, all this time?’

‘I don’t know. None of it makes any sense.’ She shifts in her seat. ‘Where is Rory, anyway?’

‘Home. They’re back now, from Italy. I went to Serena’s exhibition the other night.’

I’d finally told Serena about the notes. It hadn’t gone well. She just looked at me, white as a sheet, then muttered some excuse about wanting to lie down. And I haven’t heard from her since.

‘Didn’t that seem a bit odd to you?’ Katie is saying, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

‘Didn’t what seem odd?’

‘Rory and Serena. Going abroad so soon before her baby is due. I’m surprised she was even allowed to fly.’

‘She got some private doctor to sign it off, I think.’

‘But why would they want to go away? When the baby is due so soon?’

‘I hadn’t really thought.’

The rain gets louder, and we both glance up at the skylight. The taste of the pizza is so comforting. The food of sleepovers, when Katie and I were teenagers and she’d come over, and we’d watch Clueless and Scream on repeat. After we’ve finished the pizza, Katie collects the boxes while I head to the kitchen to scoop ice cream into bowls.



‘Anyway, I’m sick of thinking about it,’ I say, when we are both back on the sofa. ‘Tell me what’s going on with you. I saw your front page. That interview with the girl in the rape case, it was amazing. You must be really proud.’

Katie smiles, looks away, but I can tell she is pleased. There’s been a lot of talk about the interview, about how Katie persuaded the girl to waive her anonymity.

‘Helen,’ she says, swallowing a mouthful of ice cream, ‘you know I asked you before about that other rape case years ago. When you were at Cambridge. The boathouse rape?’

I nod slowly.

‘Did you really not remember it?’

I start fiddling with my spoon, avoiding Katie’s eye. It’s pointless trying to hide things from Katie when she is in this sort of mood.