I still don’t quite understand why I didn’t tell them. But the way it happened just didn’t feel like lying. It just felt like it didn’t come up.
‘So, you saw her talking to Mr Charlie Haverstock,’ the detective had said. ‘And you think that was around eight fifteen?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘All right. And that the last time you saw or spoke to Miss Wells, was it?’
It didn’t feel like a lie, you see. It just felt like agreeing. It felt like being polite. Not making things difficult, for anyone. In the moment, it was the truth that felt like a lie. This vague idea that I’d seen her again later, when I was coming back from the bathroom … After all, it was only the back of a blue dress that I saw, and what looked like the shadow of someone else. It felt weird to bring up. I told myself it was something that might mislead them, confuse matters, obstruct the investigation. And then before I knew it, they were shutting their notebooks anyway. Nodding their goodbyes. And that was it. It was too late.
I’d convinced myself it wasn’t a lie. But it feels like a lie now. The more I think about it, the worse it feels.
‘This cellar thing – it might be important, Charlie.’ I twist the napkin again. ‘Don’t you think? Whoever went down there with her – it might have something to do with her going missing.’
Charlie frowns, his mouth full of food.
‘The detective left her card,’ I say quickly. ‘She was nice. I’ll call her. I’ll tell them I just … remembered it.’ All of a sudden I can’t wait to call them. I’m flooded already with the relief of it, with the release from guilt.
‘Katie, I wouldn’t if I were you.’
Charlie’s voice is quiet, but firm. I look at him, confused.
‘What do you mean?’
Charlie takes a deep breath. ‘Look,’ he says. ‘Ultimately, it won’t really matter what you told them. They’re interviewing loads of people about what they saw at the party.’
‘So?’
‘So – why would you want to draw attention to yourself – get yourself more involved? Admit that you lied, when they spoke to you the first time?’ He shakes his head. ‘Think how it’ll look, Katie.’
I feel a rising panic in my chest. ‘No, hang on,’ I say. ‘I didn’t lie, Charlie, it wasn’t like that. I just … I just didn’t tell them that one thing. They even said, if I remembered anything else, that I could –’
Charlie snorts. ‘Yeah, right.’ He shakes his head, smiling sadly. ‘They want you to think that. That it won’t matter if you change your story, that you can tell them anything. Trust me, it doesn’t work like that. The worst thing you can be is inconsistent. They’ll make something of it, if they want to.’
‘Oh, Charlie, you’re being paranoid. The police aren’t going to go after me!’
He shrugs. ‘If you say so.’ He snaps off a piece of poppadum and dips it in a sauce. ‘I’m just saying, they twist things. Think what they were like with me.’
I sigh. I know how much he hates talking about what happened last year. He was an idiot to take coke into the club, of course. But he isn’t some kind of dealer. The irony was he had taken it in for Rory and his mates.
Though he would never admit it, Charlie still looks up to Rory, just like he did when they were little. He still tries to please him, does what he asks. When he was caught by an undercover cop, it didn’t take me long to work out why Charlie refused to say who the ‘friend’ he’d bought the coke for was. And because he wouldn’t name names – and maybe, a bit, because of his dad, and his money, and his smart mouth, which doesn’t do him any favours – the police threw the book at him. Did him for possession with intent to supply. Wanted to make an example.
Fortunately, the lawyer Rory paid for did a good job, and the judge was more sympathetic than the cops. She accepted his plea that it was just for him and his friends. Still, he was lucky to get a suspended sentence. To be able to keep working.
The waiter reappears with the main courses. He sets down a wooden board with naan, then the curries. He says the bowls are hot, that we should be careful. The table is crowded, the wine glasses clinking against the metal bowls. The smell of ginger and garlic is almost too much. For a moment I think I’m going to be sick.
‘Look,’ Charlie says eventually, putting his hand over mine, ‘for a start, I’m sure Rachel is fine.’