‘We’re here about a former student, Vicky Clarke,’ said Erika.
‘Ah, yes,’ said Cilla, getting up off the desk. Her face was now gravely serious. ‘I was going to make myself available to you. As you know, Vicky came to stay with me.’
Colin opened the door wider.
‘Please, officers, do come in.’ They stepped into the office. It was a large room lined with bookcases. There was a dusty, worn herringbone wood floor, and a huge battered green leather sofa in front of an iron fireplace. A bay window next to the desk looked down on the garden.
‘Please, sit down,’ said Colin, indicating the large leather sofa. Erika saw on a cork board up on one of the walls, there were scores of Polaroid photos of the students, all of them staring dead-on at the camera, with an intense confidence. Their names were written underneath. She fleetingly wondered if any of the students visited this leather couch in the office.
‘I was expecting to have to contact you in Scotland,’ said Erika.
Cilla hesitated. ‘Yes… I wanted to come back down to London. To see if I could be a support to Vicky,’ she said, clutching one hand to her chest as she spoke, as if to emphasise just how much she cared. ‘And, as I said, to make myself available to the police.’
‘When did you arrive in London?’ asked Erika.
‘Late last night. We took a flight, shortly after Vicky.’
‘We?’
‘I was staying with Cilla, along with another colleague of ours, Ray,’ said Colin.
‘Where is Ray?’
‘He stayed in Scotland to look after my dog,’ said Cilla. ‘He teaches dance classes at Pineapple Studios in Central London.’
‘You said you came back to London to make yourself available to the police, but we haven’t heard from you,’ said Peterson.
‘I hope there’s no problem?’ said Colin. ‘Cilla, as far as she’s told me, was unaware that Vicky had run away from a crime scene. She could have stayed in Scotland, but chose to come back. That’s not illegal.’
‘Good heavens, I hope not!’ said Cilla. ‘If I’d known about Vicky, and what had happened, I’d have told her to go straight back to London. I thought she was escaping some disastrous love affair.’ She toyed nervously with a heavy silver pendant around her neck. Colin, in comparison, was very relaxed, standing with his arms uncrossed and hands on his hips.
‘Do you know why Vicky chose to travel all the way up to Scotland to your house?’ asked Erika.
‘No… And yes, we were close,’ said Cilla, still fiddling nervously with the pendant. ‘We’ve always kept in contact.’
‘Close friends?’
‘Yes. I don’t get close to many students, but Vicky is very special to me. I only recently moved up to Scotland, in the past year. I’ve asked her up to see me, or rather, I’d told her she was welcome at any time.’
‘Have you socialised regularly with Vicky since she graduated from GDA six years ago?’
‘Yes. We’ve seen each other at least once a month for dinner. I had a flat in Sydenham which I sold recently to buy my new place up in Scotland.’ She stopped fiddling with the pendant and looked up at Erika. ‘Hold on, you just said were you close?’ There was an awkward pause. Cilla looked between them. Colin’s brow furrowed.
‘What is it, officers?’ he asked.
‘I’m very sorry to tell you that Vicky was murdered last night,’ said Erika.
Cilla stared at them for a long moment. Then she put her fingers to her temples, seemed to totter for a moment, and then she slowly slid off the desk and landed in a heap on the floor. Colin rushed over to her.
‘Cilla!’ he said. ‘Cilla! Can you hear me?’ He slapped her around the face, rather briskly. He shook her shoulders and her head lolled back. He slapped her again.
‘Okay, okay, enough,’ said Peterson, moving in. ‘Let’s put her in the recovery position.’
‘She didn’t have much to eat this morning,’ Colin said, moving back to let Peterson help. He gently rolled Cilla onto her side and tilted her head back.
‘Is she breathing? Is there a pulse?’ asked Colin, his fruity baritone voice rising with emotion. Erika could see from where she was standing that Cilla was breathing. Her chest was rising and falling under the tartan cape and her skinny legs were poking out in their lime-green tights.
‘Her pulse is strong,’ said Peterson, feeling her neck as he knelt beside her. They stood for a moment, watching, and then Cilla’s eyes fluttered theatrically, her lips parted, and her head shook from side to side. She opened her eyes.