Just Like the Other Girls(14)

‘Isn’t she a bit old for you?’ Kathryn mutters, when they’re out of earshot.

‘What, dear?’ Elspeth says, gathering up her things. ‘And you’re late.’

‘I’m really not. You’re finished early.’

Elspeth stands up, assessing Kathryn through narrow, critical eyes. ‘Don’t you want to make an appointment for yourself? You could do with a haircut.’

Kathryn touches her hair self-consciously. Ed prefers it longer and it’s now skimming her shoulders. ‘I like it this length.’

Elspeth purses her lips but doesn’t agree. Instead she holds out her arm for Kathryn to take. ‘Can we go home now, please? I’ve got lots to sort out today.’

Kathryn doesn’t ask her mother exactly what she has to sort out. She has people running every aspect of her business so that she doesn’t have to worry about anything. Elspeth takes her monthly dividends, gives the accounts a cursory glance once in a blue moon and leaves the running of the art gallery to Kathryn. She has gardeners, a cleaner and a cook. And now Una. Her mother is cosseted in every aspect of her life and always has been. People seem to do whatever she asks of them. Including lie.

There is a police car outside her mother’s house when they return home. At first Kathryn doesn’t think anything of it. This is Bristol, after all. Just last week there was a disturbance outside the local pub and the police had had to be called. Her mother might live in one of the most desirable roads in the city but it isn’t crime free.

The sky has clouded over and it has just started to drizzle. All Kathryn can think about is getting her mother into the house and putting the kettle on. She hopes Aggie has left out something warm and nourishing for lunch. Elspeth is walking painfully and unnecessarily slowly, talking all the while about Patricia, her friend who lives in the next street whose husband recently died, and how she can’t bear this weather and is looking forward to spring.

As they let themselves through the front gate Elspeth is still wittering on but Kathryn isn’t listening. Instead she’s focused on the two plain-clothed police officers getting out of the car – a young man and an older woman. Her heart speeds up as they come towards them, the woman officer holding up a badge. Despite the cold, sweat breaks out under her armpits.

‘Are you Elspeth McKenzie?’ asks the woman, ignoring Kathryn and directing her question to her mother.

Elspeth, who has been completely oblivious to their presence until now, stops with her gloved hand on the gate. ‘Yes. Can I help you?’

‘I’m Detective Sergeant Christine Holdsworth and this is Detective Constable Joe Phillips,’ says the woman, tucking her badge back inside her coat. She has red curly hair that is as short as a boy’s and getting frizzy in the rain. ‘May we come in and ask you a few questions?’

‘What is this about?’ Kathryn asks, fear making her sound more clipped than she intends.

‘We just want to ask you a few questions about a girl you employed here at the end of last year.’

Elspeth frowns. ‘Do you mean Jemima Freeman?’

‘Yes,’ says DS Holdsworth.

Elspeth stands up straighter. ‘What about her?’

Two teenage girls are walking down the street, laughing and talking over each other. They look so carefree, thinks Kathryn, with nothing to worry about apart from boys and shopping. Right now, she wishes she was one of them.

‘We’d rather not say standing here in the street, if you don’t mind,’ says the other officer, DC Phillips. He doesn’t look much older than Jacob. He’s tall and skinny with a mop of fair floppy hair and a large Adam’s apple.

Elspeth pushes open the gate. Kathryn and the police follow. Her mother has suddenly forgotten she needs to walk slowly and is racing along the path to the front door. Nobody speaks until Elspeth has unlocked it and they troop through the hall and down the stairs into the kitchen.

Aggie is at the sink, up to her elbows in water, soaking vegetables. She opens her mouth to speak when she sees Kathryn and Elspeth, but closes it again when she notices they aren’t alone. She moves away from the sink, wiping her wet hands on her apron, one eyebrow arched.

‘This is Aggie,’ says Elspeth. ‘And these are the police.’ Kathryn notices that the younger detective raises his eyebrows when her mother describes Aggie as her cook.

‘The police,’ says Aggie, wringing her hands. ‘What are they doing here?’

‘It’s about Jemima,’ whispers Elspeth, as if the police aren’t standing there.

‘Please take a seat,’ offers Kathryn, and they sit side by side at the oak table. They look awkward and out of place in her mother’s beautiful kitchen. ‘Aggie, would you mind making some tea?’

The woman detective gets out her notebook and starts flicking through it. Kathryn is desperate for a glass of wine. She’s been expecting this visit for some time. ‘Mother, you’d better sit down too.’ She pulls out a chair at the head of the table and her mother sinks into it.

Kathryn slumps into a seat next to her. Her legs feel weak. What do the police know?

‘What’s going on, Officer?’ asks Elspeth, peeling off her fur gloves slowly.

‘When was the last time you saw Jemima Freeman?’ asks DS Holdsworth.

Elspeth frowns, placing the gloves on the table in front of her. They look like two dead animals. ‘December. A week or so before Christmas. She used to work here and then she just upped and left one night, taking her stuff with her. Why?’