I Am Watching You(73)

I pop it into the cooler and move through to Luke to remind him that it is not for delivery, that the husband is calling in for it later. It’s prepaid, all written up in the book.

And then I check my watch and Luke is telling me not to worry about the shop, that he has it all in hand, and reminds me he is seeing his potential replacements later. Girl first, then boy. They both did the Ten Tors same time as him apparently, so are solid. Used to early starts. Reliable. If they both seem sane, he will leave their CVs and contact details on the shelf under the counter and I can decide whether to see them myself or to advertise. He would like to stop working by Christmas at the very latest so that he can concentrate on his studies. Is that OK?

I smile. I like that Luke is doing this for me; that he is sleeping better and doing OK back at school. It’s been a tough time.

And then the text comes. Matthew is waiting in his car outside. I don’t want Luke worrying; I tell him I am off to see a potential client in Cornwall and will be back late afternoon. I kiss Luke on the forehead and he pulls a face, so I wink my goodbye and remind him to text if there are any worries. I warn him that Cornwall can be a bit patchy for signal, so not to panic if I don’t reply immediately.

Climbing into Matthew’s car, I smile at the evidence of his very different new life. Dark circles still under his eyes – the parental clutter of a nursery rhymes CD, spare bibs, a pink blanket in the back. A soft yellow duck on the parcel shelf. The ‘Baby on Board’ sticker, which Matthew tells me his wife insisted upon.

‘You sure you’re feeling OK about this, Ella?’ Matthew looks over his shoulder as he reverses out of the parking space. I think of the headlights that so frightened me those early mornings in the past. This was the exact parking spot. It was probably someone in the flats above the shops. I put on my seatbelt and try not to dwell on it. Enough now, Ella.

‘A bit nervous, but I want to come.’

I didn’t honestly know what to think when Matthew first rang me. It was a shock. Mrs Ballard getting in touch with him. At first I wondered if it was to be some kind of formal complaint – me sending him down there that time. Suspecting her of sending the postcards. But no. Something even more surprising.

It is starting to rain and Matthew apologises. His windscreen wipers make an annoying squeaking noise. He tells me that replacing the blades is on a long list of things he may not get around to until his daughter goes to university. I laugh. He laughs.

‘It gets easier,’ I say. ‘Once they sleep.’

‘Oh, I’m not complaining,’ he says, and he is wearing that open expression I so like. Relaxed. Straight. Kind. I find myself looking at his profile and wondering again why he left the force. He avoids the question very cleverly whenever I raise it.

We make good time, stopping only to buy takeaway coffees. We listen to the radio mostly, and only once we are within ten minutes does he talk through his own strategy. Clever of him not to wind me up earlier.

The latest from the Met police is not good news. They have just discounted Sarah’s father from the inquiry into Anna’s disappearance. He was found in Norwich somewhere. I don’t know the details, in fact I’m not supposed to know this at all, but off the record Matthew says that CCTV from the hotel he was staying the night Anna went missing, along with mobile phone tracking, has provided a cast-iron alibi. He was in his hotel room when Anna went missing. No question. Cameras in the hallway show he only emerged when Sarah’s mum phoned him.

Mrs Ballard is now desperate. She wants to employ Matthew herself to review Anna’s disappearance: to try to see if the police have missed anything. She believes the case has gone completely ‘cold’. With no suspects left, the investigating team is being quietly reduced in number. Matthew, equally surprised by her sudden approach, says he has made it very clear that he is highly unlikely to be able to make progress alone. But he feels compassion for the family and wants to at least hear Mrs Ballard out. However, having been engaged by me first over the postcards, there is a potential conflict of interest and that’s why he has asked me along.

‘I remain almost certain that Mrs Ballard isn’t behind the cards, but I need to see you in the same room to make this call. I hate to be so blunt and to use you like a guinea pig but that’s where we are, Ella.’ He has said this already to me on the phone, and I do understand.

‘I can’t just work for you both. But I do worry about whether this Anna case will ever be solved now. It’s very sad for the family. Very tough.’ He is glancing at me. ‘But it’s upsetting for you too, Ella. My first call is your feelings.’

‘I know that. And I don’t think I’ll ever be happy until they find out what happened to her.’ I pause. ‘Do you think there’s any chance at all she’s still alive, Matthew?’

‘Very little. But Mrs Ballard won’t want to hear that. The mothers never do.’ Again he glances at me and then at the baby clutter. ‘I’m only coming to completely understand that now.’

We drive in silence for a time and I glance at him once, twice, finding myself frowning. ‘Do you mind me asking again, Matthew. Why you left the force?’ It seems such a shame to me; he seems so very good at this. So decent . . .

He keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead as we see a signpost for the farm, a right turning ahead.

‘Guilt.’ He says the word quietly, turning to me as I narrow my eyes. ‘There was a case. A child died. It wasn’t my fault, technically. But . . .’