Friend Request(58)

‘Mr Jenkins?’

‘Yes?’ He looks up, his face all dark shadows and worry.

‘Hello. It’s Louise Williams.’

‘Oh, hello there. You were there, were you… last night?’ He doesn’t show any sign of recognising me, either from the reunion or from school. I suppose I was neither a brilliant student nor a particularly naughty one: completed my homework on time, didn’t play up in class, achieved good if not outstanding grades. I slipped under the radar.

‘Sorry to intrude, but I was wondering… do you know who organised the reunion? Was it the school?’

‘No,’ he says. ‘It was a former student who contacted us and asked if it would be OK to use school premises. She booked the bar and sorted the licence and all that, hired someone to decorate the hall, clean up afterwards, everything. Just asked that we provide a member of staff to man the door. She thought it would be nice to have that connection to the school. I didn’t mind doing it.’

‘Did you meet her? The woman who organised it?’ I try to keep my voice neutral.

‘No, it was all done by email.’

‘And… what was her name?’ I struggle to form the words.

He looks around as if for permission from the police, but there’s no one nearby. ‘I suppose it doesn’t matter,’ he says doubtfully. ‘Her name was Naomi Strawe.’

‘Oh. Straw? As in dry grass?’

‘No, with an e: S-t-r-a-w-e.’

I don’t remember anyone of that name. My heartbeat slows a little.

‘Was she in our year?’

‘She said she was. I think there was a Naomi, wasn’t there? Maybe Strawe was her married name. To be honest we didn’t really check whether anybody was actually from the class of 1989.’ He looks worried. ‘I just assumed that anybody who wanted to come would be from your year – I mean, why else would you go to a reunion?’

‘So did she show up, this Naomi?’

‘No. That’s the strange thing. There was a badge for her – she sent me all the badges of the people who’d said they were attending, and hers was one of the only ones left.’

Not the only one. There would have been a Tim Weston badge left on that table as well. I’m about to ask more, when I see a tall, bulky woman in a dark trouser suit making her way over to us.

‘Louise Williams?’

I agree that I am, and she introduces herself as Detective Inspector Reynolds, asking me to come and sit down with her in the corner where there is a desk with a laptop and a few chairs.

‘Thanks for coming in, Ms Williams.’

‘Louise,’ I say automatically.

‘Louise. PC Wells tells me that you were here last night at the school reunion.’

‘Yes, that’s right.’ I feel as if I am in a dream, floating above myself. What has happened to my carefully ordered life, where has it gone? How did I end up here?

‘You’ve heard what has happened, obviously?’

‘Yes, I saw it on the news.’

‘So, as you know, we have found the body of a woman in the woods. The victim had her bag with her, so we’ve been able to make a provisional identification.’

‘So… are you able to tell me?’ Please God, let it be someone I don’t know.

‘Yes.’ I can tell that she is watching me closely. ‘The victim is Sophie Hannigan.’

My face somehow stays neutral but my body feels trembly and effervescent, as if my blood has been replaced with carbonated water.

‘You didn’t know her?’ She sounds disappointed. She was expecting a gasp, tears, even a small scream. But as I stare at her unmoving, clearly struggling with the simple task of breathing in and out, the truth begins to dawn on her.

‘You did know her?’

I nod without speaking and Reynolds sits in silence too, allowing me the time to process the information. She probably thinks I am in shock, but I am not shocked. All that happens is that the dull ache in my stomach that has been there since I first heard the news back in the Travelodge intensifies. It twists and grips. This is what I have been expecting all along.

‘Yes, I knew her,’ I manage eventually. Did I really? ‘I mean she’s not a close friend now, but she was once. I hadn’t seen her since school, apart from once, a couple of weeks ago.’

‘Why was that? Where did you see her?’ She looks interested. I think fast. I can’t tell her about the friend request from Maria; it brings up too many other questions, questions I don’t want to answer.

‘I contacted her when I found out about the reunion… thought it would be nice to meet up beforehand. I hadn’t really stayed in touch with anyone since school, and I thought it might be a bit much, turning up at the reunion cold, if you know what I mean. Meeting up with Sophie that night made the whole thing easier.’

‘How did you get hold of her?’

‘On Facebook.’ I try to keep my voice level.

‘And how was she, that night?’

‘Fine. Looking forward to the reunion. She didn’t seem to have changed much since our school days, not really.’

‘And was there anyone she was looking forward or not looking forward to seeing at the reunion?’

‘She was excited about it, but she didn’t mention anyone in particular. I don’t think she had any qualms or fears. She was one of those popular girls at school, you know?’