She pulled a face as though she thought I was joking when I invited her to join us. She stared at the girls on my table—who were all giggling at something Rachel had whispered to them after I had left—but when they saw her looking, they smiled and waved and beckoned her over. I felt very pleased with myself indeed when she carried her tray to our table, and sat down next to us all.
Until I read the scrap of paper that had been tucked beneath my plate.
Rachel made a little speech before I could say or do anything about it.
“I just wanted to say sorry if I’ve ever hurt your feelings, Catherine. Friends?” she said, reaching across the table to shake her hand.
The quiet girl obliged, holding out her own. I could see how badly bitten her nails were, the skin around them red and raw. I noticed a bit of lasagna had gotten stuck between the braces on her teeth, too.
Catherine’s cheeks flushed red as she shook Rachel’s hand, and her can of Coke got knocked over. Helen—ever the clever and practical one—immediately produced some napkins to soak up the mess, as though she had known it was going to happen.
“I’m so sorry,” said Rachel. “I am such a klutz. Here, have my Coke instead. It’s still full and I haven’t touched it.”
“I’m fine, I’m not even really thirsty,” Catherine replied, even redder than before so that her face and the can appeared to match.
“No really, I insist.”
Rachel slid the drink across the table, and the conversation seemed to move along with it.
I kept staring at the slip of paper, reading the words and wondering what was the right thing to do:
I pissed in the Coke can. If you tell her before she drinks it, then you’ll be the one sitting alone at lunch tomorrow.
Of course, I already knew the right thing to do, but I didn’t do it. I just sat there, looking at the plate of food I no longer wanted to eat.
Five excruciating minutes after she sat down with us all, Catherine picked up the drink. Rachel managed to keep a straight face, but Helen looked delighted, and Zoe was already giggling. I wish I could say that she just took a sip, but the girl tilted her head right back, and took several gulps before realizing that something was wrong.
“You just drank my piss!” said Rachel, an enormous smile on her face once more.
Everyone laughed, and news of what had happened soon spread from our table to the next, until the whole school seemed to be pointing and laughing at Catherine Kelly.
She didn’t say a word.
She just stared at me.
Then she got up and left the cafeteria, without clearing her tray or looking back.
Him
Wednesday 07:45
“I need you to come back with me.”
Anna and Priya both turn to look in my direction, but it’s my ex-wife that I’m talking to.
“Please say she hasn’t touched anything in here?” I say to Priya, who looks strangely sheepish.
“Only the phone.”
I close my eyes. I think I knew she was going to say the words before she said them. It was my idea to ask Anna to wait in the secretary’s office, so I can’t really blame anyone else. I turn to face her, anxious to see her reaction.
“The call to your mobile—the alleged tip-off about the latest murder—was made from the landline in this room.”
Anna stares at the old-fashioned phone.
“Well, you can still dust it for fingerprints, can’t you? Or whatever it is that you do?”
“I expect the only prints we’ll find now are yours, and there is no way of knowing whether they were there before this morning.”
“Of course my fingerprints weren’t on that phone before now; how could they be?”
Priya steps forward.
“Sir, I’m so sorry. I—”
“Are you suggesting I called myself with the tip-off?” Anna interrupts.
“I’m not suggesting anything yet. Still gathering evidence. Can you come with me, please? Priya, I want you to stay here and wait for the team. Make sure they check every nook and cranny of this office. Whoever killed Helen Wang was in here.”
I hold the door open for Anna—gentleman that I am—and she offers me one of her unimpressed looks in return as she passes. I got quite used to those in the last few months of our marriage. We walk along the school corridors in silence at first, but she doesn’t need to say anything for me to know that she is fuming. Husbands and wives develop a silent and private language. They don’t forget how to speak it—even if they separate—still fluent in each other’s expressions, gestures, and unspoken words.