‘The usual.’
‘Which is?’ This was getting to be hard work.
‘You know – would they be able to steer it okay, would they crash into the bank, what should they do if they did. Standard stuff.’ He looked off into the distance. ‘One of them was talking about his animals and then he said to me he hated leaving them. I said something like “I hope you’ve got someone to look after them or the RSPCA will be after you, ha ha.” And he sort of smiled. I remember him smiling. The other bloke, he looked a bit pale and I remember thinking the fresh air would do him good. I was wrong about that, wasn’t I?’
‘Just a bit.’
They shared a rueful smile.
‘I hope you’re going to tell Colin how helpful I’ve been. Perhaps he’ll give me a bonus.’ He winked.
Alex stood. ‘I’ll let you get on.’ She stepped off the boat and onto dry land, with Mickey following, just a little too close.
‘Ah, coppers. I think I’ll make myself scarce.’ She felt Mickey step back onto the boat.
Turning, she saw a man and a woman in pain clothes walking purposefully along the towpath. In their shiny suits they looked out of place among the holidaymakers in shorts. The man was completely bald, tall, lanky even, sporting a stubbly beard flecked with grey; the woman petite, her hair scraped back in a ponytail.
‘We’re looking for Mickey Grainger,’ the man said, flashing a warrant card at her. ‘Detective Inspector Berry,’ he said. ‘And this is Detective Sergeant Logan.’
Alex tried not to smile. Logan and Berry? You had to be kidding.
‘Yes, yes,’ Berry said, testily. ‘I know. Loganberry. Don’t think we haven’t heard it. So. Have you seen Mr Grainger? Colin Harper said we would find him here.’
‘Well—’ said Alex, not sure what to say. Mickey hadn’t seemed keen to meet Berry and Logan and she didn’t want to drop him in it.
Berry narrowed his eyes. ‘And you are?’
There was no point in pretending, she thought. ‘Alex Devlin. Reporter from The Post.’
‘Ah, yes. PC Lockwood said you were nosing about.’ He glared at her.
‘Can you confirm the identities of the bodies?’ She might as well give it a try.
‘No.’
DS Logan stared straight ahead.
‘Are they Derek Daley from London and Roger Fleet from Suffolk?’
‘Wait for the press conference. Six o’clock. This Grainger’s boat?’ He began to step aboard Firefly Sister.
‘Not his boat exactly,’ said Alex.
DI Berry frowned. ‘How “not exactly”?’
‘It belongs to Harper’s Holidays. Mickey works for Colin.’
‘I see. Mickey works for Colin. I think I did realize that.’ Sarcasm dripped from his lips. He stepped on board the boat. ‘Mr Grainger,’ he called. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Berry and I would like to have a word with you please.’
There was silence for a few seconds, only the sound of distant voices and the phut phut of engines and then Mickey emerged from the other end of the boat, looking as though he wanted to be anywhere else but here, on this boat, with these police officers.
DI Berry smiled, but, to Alex, it wasn’t a particularly reassuring smile. DS Logan’s face hadn’t moved, and Alex wondered if she was frightened of her boss, or if she was naturally like that.
‘Mr Grainger. At last.’ DI Berry looked at Alex, his thin lips in a parody of a smile. ‘Thank you, Miss Devlin, for your help.’
She was dismissed.
Alex shifted about on one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs that had been laid out in rows for the press. The room was stuffy and impersonal with high windows and almost bare walls. There were three tables in a row at one end of the room, with the logo of Norfolk Constabulary behind it. It also had a strange smell of school about it, that heady mix of sweat, feet and boiled mince.
Her mind wandered back to the visit she had just made to her mum and dad. They lived in a small village several miles outside Sole Bay – they couldn’t bear to stay in the town after the death of Sasha’s twins – in a neat house down a country lane. It was identical to the one they had left behind in Sole Bay. It had a fitted kitchen, a white bathroom suite, a three piece suite in the sitting room and a hardly used mahogany table and six chairs in the dining room. The garden was a well-tended lawn both at the back and the front, and flowers that were ranked in straight borders varying with the seasons. It was as if her parents wanted to underline their stability, the fact they lived very ordinary lives. Good lives. Despite Sasha.
‘Thank you for coming,’ said her mother as she’d ushered her in, making Alex feel guilty immediately. It was the beaten tone in her mum’s voice that did it.
Alex had handed over the pasta and the smoked sausages. ‘Here, Mum. I hope Dad enjoys them.’
Her mother had smiled gratefully.
‘Hello darling,’ her dad had said. ‘I’m just making a cup of tea for us.’
Darling. It had only been in recent weeks he had begun to call Alex ‘darling’. She rather liked it, even if it was a product of his dementia. And tea. He never made tea; he loved his coffee. He had looked around with a new vagueness, as if he wasn’t at all sure where he was or what he was supposed to be doing.
The tea never materialized. Her dad forgot he was making it and wandered off into the sitting room to watch goodness knows what on the television. So her mum had taken over and made it without a word.
‘Have you seen the specialist recently?’
Her mum had shaken her head. ‘No. Not for another six months. Then there’ll be more tests to see if he’s got any worse. I’m not sure I can bear it. To watch him struggling in that horrible hospital room while he tries to copy a picture or spell something backwards. I can’t do it, Alex, I can’t.’ She’d buried her face in her hands.
Alex had put her arms around her, noticing how thin and frail she had become over the last months. ‘I’ll do what I can, Mum. And I’ll come with you next time.’
Her mother had stood up straight. ‘I’m sorry. Sometimes—’
‘Look, I know it all gets a bit much for you. You must let me help more.’
‘We’ll be all right. Don’t worry. Most of the time I’m perfectly fine. Sometimes, though, I want to scream at the unfairness of it all.’
Alex could understand that. After all, her parents weren’t old – they were only in their early sixties. It wasn’t a time for her dad to start losing his mind and for her mum to have aged years in months. They’d had her and Sasha when they were young, and so should have had years of child-free time together. But what had happened with Sasha had aged them prematurely, Alex realized that. And on bad days, really bad days, she blamed her sister for making that happen. And now with her father’s illness, well, it really was taking its toll on them both.
‘Don’t let it be so long before you visit again, will you?’ Her eyes had swum with tears and she’d worked her mouth in an effort to stop them falling. With a flash of understanding Alex had realized her mother was frightened and that her dad had been the person her mum had leaned on for years. They had always been a self-contained couple, a private family, which was why all that business with Sasha had hit them so hard. Now her mother was having to cope on her own. Alex knew she had to