She pales to a shade that gives Brandon Keefe a run for his money.
‘I . . . I don’t know what to tell you. I left early. I said I didn’t feel well. I felt bad doing it but . . .’ She pauses, swallowing hard. ‘Look, I don’t know why I wasn’t marked absent. I’d have told Mrs Gopal’s secretary I was leaving. Ask her.’
It’s a challenge, not a suggestion. She knows as well as I do that it’s hardly worth asking someone to recall a two-second conversation they had six years ago, one that was of no importance to them at all.
‘Right, so let me get this straight. You lied to your employer, dumped your lesson on a probably already overstretched colleague, and left your pupils in the lurch, all so you could bunk off to buy Lady Gaga tickets. Is that what you’re saying?’
Chin high. ‘Yes. So?’
If she’d shown a dot of shame, I might have believed her. As it goes, her petulance makes me even more suspicious.
‘Well, at least we’ve got that cleared up.’ I give a sardonic smile. ‘Now, back to the “mix-up” regarding your bank card.’
‘Jesus Christ, sorry I’m not perfect! Sorry I got one detail wrong.’ I’m getting the full teenage strop now.
‘No need to be sorry,’ I say, sounding how I imagine she sounds when she’s ever so slightly disappointed with a pupil. ‘It does make me question every other detail you’ve given, though.’
‘Fine, you do that.’ She gestures to the door. ‘Now I’d like you to leave, please. I’ve got a busy day.’
‘You see, there’s a lie right there, Serena. You thought you were going to Hobbledown.’ I throw my hands wide. ‘And then I turn up and get you out of it. You should be thanking me. You’ve got your day back.’
‘Believe me, I’ve got plenty of things to do that don’t involve sitting around justifying myself to someone who only graduated last week.’
While I’ll take that as a compliment, I’m bored of her newfound sass already. I slip down off the arm of the sofa and snuggle among the scatter cushions, making it clear I’m not going anywhere. She stares at me with those wide green eyes. I stare back harder with my baby blues.
‘What was going on in your life at that time, Serena? Because if it affects the accuracy of your statement, we need to know, and I’m staying right here until I do.’ Nothing. ‘You mentioned issues with an ex the first time we met? Were you distracted that day, maybe?’
More silence.
‘I’m deadly serious, Serena. What did Robbie say it is? A three-hour round trip? Well, I haven’t got plenty to do. In fact, I’ve got nothing planned at all, except a load of washing, so three hours doesn’t bother me. More is fine. I’d rather be in here than outside, truth be told. I’m not exactly what you’d call a sun worshipper.
‘I was what you’d call a prostitute.’
She breaks the stare and looks off to the side, drinking in a photo of Robbie and Poppy on a waterslide, their hands thrust high in the air, loving life.
‘OK . . .’ I nod slowly, giving myself time to compute. ‘Can you put that into context for me. I’m not sure . . .’
‘I was meeting a client that afternoon in Clapham.’ She walks around and virtually collapses onto the armchair; the look on her face pure contempt. For the client? For herself? Or maybe me, the person who dragged it all up again. ‘I started in my early twenties. I didn’t plan it, but have you any idea how hard it is to survive on a teaching assistant’s salary in London? And then by the time I’d qualified and was earning a bit more money, I’d got used to earning a lot more, so I kept doing it. Doing them.’ A sour smile. ‘Anyway, I wasn’t doing it a lot by that time, 2012. I was completely focused on my job, but then . . .’ She takes a deep sigh. ‘There was this one guy. He’d been a client, but then he’d moved back to America, which was gutting. He paid really well, see, and he was nice too, not like some. He was over in London that February for work and he called me up. He was staying in Clapham, but he was busy in the evenings so he asked to see me for an hour that afternoon, and I couldn’t afford to turn down £500 cash. I didn’t earn that in a week teaching.’ She draws in another breath, fixing me with a righteous glare. ‘Everything else was true. I cut back through Valentine Street and saw Masters and Holly, exactly as I said.’
‘Exactly?’ I need to drill down. ‘So you passed Holly at the gate and then you turned around and saw them both at the door. Why? Why did you turn around?’
‘More or less what I said. I thought I’d left my bank card at his place. He’d been doing coke. I hadn’t – I swear on my daughter’s life, I only had a couple of glasses of wine. But I’d given him my card’ – she mimes a chopping action – ‘because his wallet was downstairs.’ She wraps her arms around herself, righteousness morphing into self-pity. ‘So you can see why I didn’t admit this at the time, and why I’ve never brought it up with Robbie. It’s just all so upsetting. I want to forget it ever happened. I wish I’d never walked down that street.’
‘Funnily enough, Serena, I think Holly Kemp would have said the same.’
20
Victoria Park, also known as the People’s Park, is the largest and most popular green space in East London, attracting nearly ten million visitors a year.
Around nine million of those visitors appear to have descended today.
At least half a million are in this queue for a burger.
Good job Aiden and I have got plenty to talk about.
‘So she says to me, “I think you’ve got great potential and SO15 needs officers like you”, and then she says she’ll be recruiting once she makes superintendent. That’s a job offer, right? Or do you reckon it’s just hot air?’
‘Search me,’ Aiden says, kissing me on the forehead.
I look up. ‘Well, that’s very helpful. Thanks for your input.’
‘What do you want me to say? Sounds like a job offer to me, but you know the woman.’
This isn’t like him. Aiden’s a talker, a theorist. Doesn’t matter if it’s job offers, betting odds, or how to get tabasco sauce out of every known fabric, you better believe he’s got an opinion on it. I let it go, putting it down to hunger. Or the fact I said I’d sort out a picnic this afternoon and instead we’ve been queuing for fifteen minutes for a splat of meat and processed cheese.
‘That’s the thing, I don’t really know her. She’s smart and ambitious and she’s got this kind of Snow Queen vibe going on, all supercool and regal, but maybe I shouldn’t be thinking about working for someone I don’t know, not properly. God knows, Steele can be challenging sometimes, but at least I know where I am with her.’
It’s hard to forget Dyer’s warning, though: ‘Don’t let your loyalty to Steele hold you back.’
‘So what’s the SO stand for?’ asks Aiden. ‘Don’t tell me – Sexy Officer?’
‘How did you guess?’ I give him a smile. ‘Specialist Operations.’
‘Right. Very 007.’