‘Yeah. We had it delivered last night.’
‘How is it? For sleeping?’ said Erika. She wasn’t crazy to hear about Peterson and Fran’s domestic arrangements.
‘Good. It’s a nice big bed, so Kyle, of course, wants to sleep with us.’
‘Is he still having the night terrors?’
‘Yeah. It’s a bad habit to get into, letting kids sleep in the same bed with you, but Fran doesn’t want him to be scared at night if he wakes up from them.’
‘Letting your kids share a bed is a bad habit?’ asked Erika.
‘According to my mother it is,’ said Peterson. ‘She keeps getting on at Fran about it. It’s causing a bit of tension…’ Erika nodded and looked out of the window. His mother could be quite a fearsome presence, and she’d made it very clear to Erika, when she and Peterson had been briefly together, that she wasn’t suitable girlfriend material for her son, being older and career-obsessed. It gave Erika a little guilty pleasure that Fran wasn’t getting an easy ride from the great Mrs Peterson.
‘So, if you don’t have a bed, you’re still on the lilo?’ Peterson said.
‘It’s a burst lilo. I’m on a pile of blankets… That reminds me…’
‘What?’ asked Peterson, as the lights changed and they moved off.
‘I have to rearrange delivery.’ Erika looked up and saw they had a few minutes until they’d be in New Cross. She rang the delivery helpline, and was surprised not to have to wait. The only spot they had for the next few days was for that evening at six thirty.
‘I don’t know if I can do six thirty,’ said Erika, checking her watch. It was coming up to three thirty, and they had to go to GDA, and then she wanted to show her face back at the station incident room.
‘I can do what you need to do tonight,’ said Peterson, overhearing the conversation. ‘You need a bed.’
Erika covered the phone.
‘I have to go back to the incident room and check on the surveillance team.’
‘I can do that. Take the delivery slot. You need sleep to function. We all need you,’ said Peterson. Erika felt a real warmth and affection for him offering to help, and she took the delivery slot.
As she hung up her phone they were driving past New Cross Gate station, passing the large campus of Goldsmiths University. Goldsmith’s Drama Academy was half a mile past this, made up of a row of six terraced houses that had been knocked together.
They pulled into the front entrance just as a group of young men and women emerged from the front entrance, wearing leggings and dance gear. And two of them had on neon yellow headbands. They were chatting and shrieking with laughter, and didn’t seem to mind the cold. The kids passed the car, and moved along to one of the other doors in the row of terraces.
Just as Erika and Peterson pulled into a parking spot, a bright yellow VW Beetle pulled up in the space opposite, and Cilla Stone got out. She was dressed in gaudy primary colours: lime-green tights with red Dr. Martens boots, and a strange tartan cape in blue and red, which came down past her waist.
‘What the hell is she wearing?’ said Peterson as they watched a more soberly dressed man in a smart blue suit lock the car and follow her up to the main entrance.
‘Every colour she can. That’s Cilla Stone,’ said Erika.
‘The Cilla Stone who Vicky stayed with in Scotland?’
‘Yes. I recognise her photo from the university website.’
‘And who is that with her?’
‘I don’t know.’
Cilla walked up the steps, and said something to the man, leaning in conspiratorially, almost flirting. She laughed and the man grinned down at her. Peterson went to get out of the car, but Erika put out her hand.
‘Wait, let’s hang back. I don’t want to have to tell her about Vicky in the car park.’
41
They watched as the man pressed a bell on the door. It opened and he stood to one side to let her in.
‘She’s retired from GDA?’ said Peterson.
‘Yes. Vicky said that Cilla lives in Scotland now. What’s she doing back here in London?’
They got out, walked up to the main entrance and rang the bell. A moment passed and then a pinched-sounding woman’s voice came through the tinny speaker, asking who they were. Erika held up her warrant card to the camera and said they wanted to speak to the Student Welfare Officer. There was another long pause.
‘What’s this regarding?’ she said.
‘It’s regarding two police officers who need to talk to you,’ said Erika. There was a beat and then the door buzzed and popped open a couple of inches.