He’d dreamed about her last night, but the dream had been fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that he couldn’t quite piece together. He remembered dream-Jodie had been skipping along the Bunky Line, ponytail swishing behind her like a tail. But every time he’d called out to warn her something was wrong, the words had got stuck in his throat.
The doorbell rang, and Mathew jumped. His imagination treated him to an image of a policeman at the door, a pair of handcuffs dangling in one hand, an arrest warrant in the other.
‘Get the door, Mathew,’ his mother shouted.
Mathew didn’t want to. Even though Gareth had told him to tell her everything about not going to the river and going to the Bunky Line instead, he couldn’t bring himself to say something that would disappoint her. Fibbers were next to thieves on his mother’s list of undesirables.
‘Mathew?’
‘I don’t feel well.’
Appearing in the doorway brandishing a large bread knife, Sonia Hillock frowned. ‘What’s wrong?’
Mathew gawped at the knife as if the blade knew his innermost secrets. He tapped the table again. ‘My tummy hurts.’
‘What have you been eating?’
‘Nothing.’ The truth. Unlike the tummy ache. His feet scraped across the floor again as if preparing to run.
So great was his relief when Gareth walked into the lounge, he almost leapt up from the table and leapt into his brother’s arms. Opting for a more reasonable form of greeting, he held up his right hand and waited for Gareth to high-five him.
Gareth obliged. ‘How’s it going, Mattie?’
‘Okay.’ Somewhere between a lie and wishful thinking.
Sonia asked Gareth if he would like anything to eat.
‘No, ta. I’ve just had a coffee at Costa.’
‘That’s not food.’
‘I had a boiled egg for breakfast.’
Sonia made a face to suggest her son was on the verge of extinction. ‘Suit yourself.’
As soon as his mother was back in the kitchen, Gareth whispered, ‘Have you said anything to her yet?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t want to upset her.’
‘She’s not gonna tell you off. She loves you.’
‘She told me off when I left my shoes at school.’
‘Not being funny, mate, but that was before you needed to shave.’
Sonia put a plate of ham and pickle sandwiches in front of Mathew. ‘What’s this about shoes?’
‘Nothing. Nothing important.’
‘Mattie said you told him off once for losing his shoes,’ Gareth said.
Sonia frowned. ‘When?’
‘At school,’ Mathew said. ‘You were mad at me ’cos I walked home in my socks after someone hid them in the changing rooms.’
Sonia shrugged. ‘Don’t remember that. Would you like a glass of milk with your sandwiches?’
‘Yes, please.’
Gareth followed his mother into the kitchen. ‘There’s something he wants to tell you, but he’s worried you’ll get mad at him.’
‘What?’
‘I think it’s best if he tells you himself.’
Sonia poured a glass of milk and returned to the dining room. ‘Gareth says you want to tell me something.’
Mathew’s insides wobbled. ‘Not really.’
Gareth sat opposite him. ‘Just tell her, mate.’
‘Don’t want to.’
‘Do you want me to tell her instead?’
Mathew looked at the table. ‘No.’
‘Come on, Mattie. It’s not half as bad as you think it is.’
‘Isn’t it?’
Sonia laid a hand on her son’s shoulder. ‘Just tell me what it is. I promise I won’t be mad at you.’
‘You will.’
‘I won’t. I swear on the moon and the stars and the nears and the fars.’
‘Promise?’
‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’
‘Don’t say things like that. It scares me.’
‘Sorry.’
Mathew drained his milk. ‘It was all Jim Bentley’s fault.’
‘Who?’
‘The local idiot,’ Gareth explained. ‘A legend in his own head.’
Sonia looked at Mathew. ‘What’s this Jim Bentley chap done?’
As he was about to tell her, the doorbell rang. Saved by the bell.
This time his mother returned with a tall man dressed in a dark-blue suit. He smiled and held out his hand. ‘I’m DS Palmer. Thames Valley Police.’
Mathew thought he seemed like a wolf with bad intentions. He tapped his right hand on the table, fighting an urge to get up and run. He shook Palmer’s outstretched hand. ‘Mathew.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Mathew.’ He turned his attention to Gareth. ‘And you are?’
‘Gareth. Mathew’s brother.’
Palmer shook the older brother’s hand. ‘Good to meet you.’
Gareth nodded. Shot Mathew an impatient glance. ‘Would you stop tapping your hand, Mattie?’
Mathew grabbed the hand and stilled it. It pulsed beneath his palm, demanding to be let free. But that would be rude, and he didn’t want to upset Gareth. He wanted his brother with him if the policeman started asking awkward questions such as where he went on Thursday night.
‘Take a seat,’ Sonia said.
Palmer sat next to Gareth. Mathew thought the detective still appeared tall enough to reach the ceiling without a ladder.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Sonia asked. ‘Or coffee?’
‘A glass of water wouldn’t go amiss. It’s hot enough outside to fry eggs on the pavement.’
Mathew thought that was a really dumb thing to say, especially when everyone had cookers at home. Plus, the ground was dirty where dogs went to the toilet and slugs slithered all over it.
Sonia returned with a glass of water.
Palmer took a few sips and placed the glass on a coaster. ‘I’m investigating the disappearance of a little girl called Jodie Willis.’
Mathew’s heart skidded to a halt.
‘Is that the girl who went missing?’ Sonia asked, joining the three men at the table.
Palmer nodded and stared at Mathew. ‘A witness has informed me that you were in Abbasi’s Convenience Store at the same time as Jodie Willis. Is that correct?’
Mathew stared at a picture of his father hanging above the oak sideboard. His kind blue eyes peered out from beneath a floppy sunhat. A faint smile played on his lips.
‘Mathew?’
‘He saw the girl,’ Sonia said. ‘But that’s all. Then he went for a walk down the river, didn’t you, love?’
Mathew nodded.
Palmer took another sip of water. ‘The witness also stated you said someone was going to die. Is that correct?’
‘That’s because there was a bird in the house on Thursday morning,’ Sonia said. ‘It’s meant to mean someone’s going to die. It’s just a silly old wives’ tale.’
Palmer returned his attention to Mathew. ‘Can you please tell me your exact movements between 6 p.m. and 9 p.m. on Thursday 6th of August?’
Mathew’s hand, despite his best intentions, broke free and tapped the table.