Courtney and I decline, but Vince nods and takes a can from him.
‘So, did you find out anything interesting from Peter the Plod?’ asks Kris.
‘He’s not a cop, he’s a firefighter …’ I begin, but catch Courtney’s eye. She’s subtly shaking her head. Oh, I see. Kris is being facetious. It’s totally inappropriate and I decide I don’t like him.
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ says Courtney, primly.
Kris turns to Vince. ‘Oooh, she doesn’t want to talk about it!’ He laughs. ‘Did I tell you she thinks Una was murdered?’
I wince at his insensitivity.
‘Yes – and I –’ stutters Vince.
‘The police believe it now too,’ snaps Courtney, her large chestnut eyes flashing. ‘So I’m not the lunatic you make me out to be. You know, Kris, some support might have been nice.’
He rolls his eyes theatrically. ‘Support!’ He chuckles but there’s no warmth in it. ‘I’ve been living here with you, haven’t I? Helping with the rent when Una left you in the lurch to live in that Cuckoo house?’
Vince shakes his head. ‘Mate, that’s too far.’
He shrugs in a what-do-you-want-me-to-say? kind of way.
I’ve had enough. ‘I don’t know why you’re not taking it seriously,’ I pipe up. ‘Someone was seen on the bridge with Jemima the night she died so it’s doubtful it was suicide. And the police think Una wasn’t alone either.’
‘It’s what I’ve been saying all along,’ interjects Courtney. ‘Someone lured Una onto the bridge, pretending to be Peter.’
Vince pales. Then, ‘Well, who knew Una was in touch with Peter?’
‘Kathryn did. She was cross that Una was in touch with him and that she’d had the gall to question her about a necklace.’ She fills me in on the locket Una found in her room with a photo of Jemima inside it.
‘That solves the mystery, then, doesn’t it?’ says Kris, a smug look on his face. ‘It looks like it’s Kathryn.’ He claps his hands. ‘Anyone for more drinks?’
There’s a shocked silence. Vince opens his mouth to say something, but Courtney stands, drawing herself up to her five foot seven inches, the sweets in her lap slipping to the floor. ‘Get the fuck out of my flat,’ she snarls, her voice low. ‘We’re finished.’
The look on his face is so comically surprised that my first instinct is to laugh.
‘What? What did I say?’
‘You’re not exactly sensitive, mate,’ says Vince, also standing up. A muscle throbs in his jaw and I can see he’s upset. ‘We cared – fuck it, we loved Una, even if you didn’t give a shit about her.’
‘Hold on a minute …’
‘Get out,’ repeats Courtney. ‘I mean it.’
Kris reluctantly gets to his feet. ‘Fine. I’ll go and stay with Stan. Just until you’ve cooled off.’ He heads into Una’s old room.
‘I’m sorry,’ says Vince, in a low voice. ‘He’s a prick.’
‘I don’t know why you hang around with him.’
‘He’s an excellent drummer.’
Courtney laughs and he pulls her into his arms and kisses the top of her head. When he draws away, he says firmly, ‘What you’ve both done is amazing. I hope that bitch Kathryn gets what she deserves.’
His eyes flash above Courtney’s head and there’s something about his expression, his suppressed anger, that makes me feel uneasy.
39
Kathryn
It’s been three days since Willow left.
Kathryn was still at the house on Sunday afternoon when Willow called in to collect her stuff, accompanied by a tall pretty girl she’d met before. Courtney. Una’s best friend. Kathryn had refused to speak to them but Elspeth had been her usual sycophantic self, begging Willow to stay. ‘The police don’t think Kathryn has any involvement in the deaths of Una and Jemima,’ her mother had said, her voice reedy and desperate, ‘and neither do I. Please, this is a strange situation for all of us, but you’re in no danger.’
It had baffled Kathryn as to how her mother could have made such a grand statement on something she knows nothing about. How does she know Willow isn’t in danger?
Willow had apologized and said she felt, under the circumstances, that she couldn’t stay. She’d gone upstairs with her friend and packed all her stuff. Kathryn had hovered around on the landing outside to make sure Willow didn’t decide to take anything that didn’t belong to her.