The Half Sister(49)

‘Oh hi,’ she says to the first person who looks at her from across the chest-high counter. ‘My name’s Kate Walker and I’m from the Gazette. I called earlier about verifying one of your students for a job offer.’

‘Oh yes,’ says the woman, with a frown. ‘Well, I’m very sorry to have to tell you that we have no record of a Jessica Linley having studied here.’

Kate doesn’t know what she was expecting, but it isn’t this. Still, there is a frisson of anticipation working its way through her as she acknowledges what it means. It will give her no pleasure to inform Lauren that Jess isn’t who she says she is, or tell Matt that his star reporter is a liar and a fraud, but she’ll do it if it means putting an end to this ridiculous charade that’s been plaguing her family for the past month.

‘Are you absolutely sure?’ asks Kate earnestly. ‘There’s no way you could have got this wrong?’

The woman shakes her head regretfully. ‘I’ve double-checked. The only possibility would be if she attended under a different name. Is that likely?’

Kate considers it for a moment. Anything is possible, especially where Jess is concerned, it seems.

‘I don’t have another name,’ she says, rummaging in her bag. ‘But I do have a photograph. She has only just graduated . . .’

The woman looks at her with a forlorn expression, almost as if she’s taking responsibility for Jess’s duplicity herself.

‘Well, so she says,’ adds Kate. ‘You might recognize her.’

The woman looks at the photo and back at Kate. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t . . .’

‘Don’t worry, it was just a thought,’ says Kate, about to take it back.

‘I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.’

‘I recognize her,’ says the woman standing next to her, making Kate’s heart feel as if it has frozen in time. The woman takes an inordinate amount of time to lift her glasses, hanging on a beaded chain around her neck, and sit them on the end of her nose, before moving in for a closer look at the photo. ‘I couldn’t tell you her name,’ she says. ‘But I’ve definitely seen her before.’

‘Are you . . . are you sure?’ stammers Kate, feeling as if the small office is closing in on her. She catches the woman shooting a look at her colleague behind the desk, as if in anticipation of a problem.

‘You’re absolutely sure?’ questions Kate.

‘Mmm,’ mumbles the woman non-committally, as if she’s suddenly conscious of breaking some human rights clause in the bureaucracy handbook.

‘Maybe it’s not who you think it is?’ presses Kate.

‘I’m usually pretty good,’ she says. ‘I know that face, but can’t place her for the life of me.’

‘Might it have been here, at the university?’ presses Kate. ‘Or somewhere in town perhaps?’

‘Gosh, I really don’t know,’ says the woman, oblivious to Kate’s growing frustration. ‘I just know I’ve seen her somewhere before.’

‘Well, to be honest, if her name’s different to the one she used here, it tells me all I need to know anyway,’ says Kate, slipping the picture back into her bag. ‘But if you remember anything more, perhaps you’d give me a call?’ She hands over her business card.

‘Of course,’ says the woman, a puzzled expression still clouding her features.

Kate thanks the ladies for their help and walks out into the sunshine, wondering where to go next. She’d hoped to at least be able to start tracking Jess’s past, but the only lead she has is the university, and with that going cold she has nothing to follow up on.

‘Shit!’ she says aloud, as soon as she gets around the corner, ignoring the bemused looks of passers-by.

‘Hey, excuse me,’ comes a voice from behind her. ‘Excuse me . . . Miss!’

Kate turns around, praying that it’s the same woman, having had an epiphany. She struggles to contain her buoyed enthusiasm when she sees that it is.

‘I don’t know if it’s going to help you any,’ pants the woman. ‘But I’ve just remembered where I know her from.’

It’s what Kate had wanted and feared in equal measure.

‘Oh,’ she says, trying to sound nonchalant.

‘As odd as this may sound, I think she was working in the cafeteria.’ The woman looks at her quizzically over the top of her glasses. ‘What that means, I don’t know, but you might want to ask down there.’

Kate’s brows knit together in confusion. ‘Working?’ she asks.

The woman nods confidently. ‘She wasn’t a student here; she was an employee.’

Kate’s brain feels as if it’s about to explode. ‘But then why . . .?’ she starts, to which the woman shrugs her shoulders.

‘I have no idea, but your best bet is to go down there and ask around. I can safely say I’ve seen her there in the last six months.’

‘Erm, okay, thanks,’ says Kate, hurrying off.

‘It’s that way,’ says the woman, nodding in the opposite direction to the one in which Kate’s heading.

‘Thanks,’ says Kate hurriedly, her feet taking her faster than her brain can think.

It looks more like a cafeteria in an upmarket department store than a university. No wonder it costs nine thousand pounds a year to come here.