‘You OK?’ Bex asks.
‘Fine,’ she says, putting that day out of her mind.
‘He’s just trying to help you,’ Bex continues, resting a hand on hers. ‘And he’s done a pretty good job, I’d say.’
‘You’re right.’
She tucks into the yoghurt, deciding not to tell Bex what she can remember. She’s not sure if she’s imagining it all anyway.
‘I texted Jake this morning,’ Bex says, changing the subject. ‘Told him he can stay at mine.’
‘That’s kind of you.’ And surprising. Maybe they’d make a good couple. Bex would be better at knocking him into shape than Kate ever was.
‘Poor sod.’ Bex pauses. ‘You’d better ring Rob back.’
She’s right. She turns on her phone and a voicemail message pops up. Before she can play it, though, the phone starts to ring.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Bex says, getting up from the table with her coffee. ‘I’m going to take a shower.’
‘It’s showing “Number unavailable”,’ Kate says.
‘Answer it, Kate. It’s probably him.’
She takes the call. It’s not Rob.
28
Silas
Silas waits for what seems like half the car-owning population of Cornwall to drive out of the village before he steers down the single-track road to the quayside. Miraculously, he finds somewhere to park. The sandy beach is spread out below them and beyond it the wide expanse of the sea.
He and Strover sit still for a few moments, admiring the view across to Nare Head. His father, who was also a detective, used to tell him stories about stakeouts when he was with the Regional Crime Squad in the 1980s. Everyone preferred the Mark 2 Vauxhall Cavalier in those days because you could put the seats back and sleep. Which was fine until a joint undercover operation, when half the force would turn up in the same car.
‘Mountains or seaside?’ he asks Strover, still looking ahead. It’s been a quick drive, three hours from Swindon, including the judicious use of a blue light on their unmarked car on a congested section of the M5.
‘Sorry, boss?’
‘Are you a mountain or a seaside person? People tend to be one or the other. Like Africa and India – you prefer one continent or the other. Edinburgh or Glasgow. London or New York. Mountains or seaside.’
‘Neither really,’ she says, clearly confused.
‘Where do you go on your holidays, then?’ he asks. Silas loves to travel.
‘City breaks.’
He nods his head in approval. He likes a good city break himself – Krakow last time – but he’s a seaside man at heart. Always has been. Not the big beaches but rugged coasts and hidden coves. Western Isles of Scotland, the Pelion peninsula in Greece.
‘Should you call her again?’ he asks. ‘Check that she’s still in?’
Strover rang Kate earlier, before they set off from Gablecross, exaggerating her Bristol accent to explain that she had a special Sunday flower delivery and asking if Kate would be in today. Silas was taken aback by how naturally Strover slipped into character, wondered if she’d ever considered undercover work. The deceit didn’t sit comfortably with either of them, but they needed to talk to Kate. And Jake had revealed that Kate’s new man had had to return to London. Flowers might work. If they gave her warning of their arrival, there was a good chance she’d choose not to cooperate.
‘I’ll call her again now,’ Strover says, as Silas gets out of the car. ‘Are we walking?’ she adds, surprised.
‘What flavour?’
‘Sorry?’
‘I’m buying us ice creams. You must have ice cream at the seaside.’
‘Honeycomb if they’ve got it,’ she says hesitantly as she puts the phone to her ear.
Funny, he had her down as a mint choc chip. You can tell a lot about someone from their choice of ice cream.
‘And you’d better buy some flowers – decent ones,’ Strover calls after him, before slipping into Bristol florist mode to talk on her phone.
Silas walks off, Strover’s words carrying in the summer breeze. ‘Is that Kate?’ she asks. ‘This is the florist’s, I called earlier… Just checking you’re in for a delivery today? About ten minutes?’ He smiles to himself. Strover’s coming on nicely.
Ten minutes later, they pull up in front of the house where Kate’s living, Silas licking the last of his rum and raisin ice cream from his lips. It is the weekend, after all. In truth, he’s nervous. He hasn’t seen Kate for nearly five months, not since she left hospital and disappeared off their radar.
‘Grand Designs,’ he says, getting out the car and looking up at the house. ‘Got to be.’
The entire front of the single-storey house is glass, most of the interior hidden behind blinds. To the left of them, a shiny Tesla is hooked up to a charging point in front of a standalone double garage. He’s sure they’ve got the right place. The address matches the one Strover found for Kate’s partner’s businesses. And she established from the DVLA database that the only car in Rob’s name, a Tesla, is also registered at this address.
‘Different,’ Strover says, joining her boss at the front door.
He’s holding a large bunch of carnations, the best he could find in the village shop. If there were another way of doing this, he’d do it. The last thing he wants is to frighten Kate. She’s been through enough already.
‘Not my bag,’ he says, standing back to take in the property’s glass and steel frontage. ‘Good for growing tomatoes in though.’
‘I like it,’ Strover says, glancing across at the drive. ‘And the Tesla Model S Performance. Nought to sixty in 2.4 seconds. Three-hundred-and-sixty-five-mile range. Top speed 155 miles per hour.’
Silas shakes his head in bewilderment. ‘You are the source of the most unlikely information.’
‘Girls not meant to know about cars?’
‘Did I say that?’
Not convinced, Strover leans forward to press the doorbell. ‘Driving one of those things is like sitting in the future,’ she says, looking across at the Tesla again.
‘Wait,’ Silas says, gesturing at the security camera. He moves forward and holds the carnations up close to the tiny lens, blocking the view with flowers.
29
Kate
The phone call was from the florist again. This time the woman was ringing to say that the delivery would be in ten minutes.
Kate knows it will be lilies. More white ones. She guesses Rob’s still feeling bad about returning early to London yesterday. Jake used to give her flowers too but never bought ones. He used to cut them when he was out walking in the forest. Honeysuckle, dog-rose and cow parsley, tied up with meadow grass. Rob isn’t a great one for getting his hands dirty in the woods and he wouldn’t have survived one night on their leaky old narrowboat. Everything has to be clean and in the right place, like the house. It’s a measure of the man that he’s allowed her to come into his home and make such a mess.
Bex is still having a shower as Kate half-heartedly tidies up their breakfast things. She’s filled with a sudden desire to drive up to London, try to recapture some of the loved-up feelings from before. Rediscover the Rob who walked onto her hospital ward that first day, his eyes full of kindness and curiosity. Maybe it’s only seeing him at weekends that’s messing with her head, making everything feel so disconnected. She needs to be with him in London, stay at his flat, meet him for lunch at the office. Be an ordinary couple.