And why did the way she watched each person eat with a sharp eye make him feel guilty about leaving a bit of potato salad at the side of his plate? He noticed that she hardly ate anything herself, but spent her time passing dishes, rushing off to the kitchen for more bread, more sauces, or an extra plate.
He gravitated towards the kitchen to get a closer look. The units seemed to be brand new. Too new to have been in the house when it was built, even though it was no more than twelve years old. But some people insisted on installing a new kitchen every two years, as if they only lasted that long before they became infested with germs. He could see Dawn Nield being one of those women.
In the middle of the kitchen, the granite-effect U-shaped preparation surface was spotless. Although it must have been in use all day, it gleamed as if it had just been polished. Cooper glanced at the appliances — an integrated Electrolux dishwasher, a Smeg gas hob with an eye-level double oven. It all looked brand new.
Part of the preparation surface formed a kind of peninsula dividing the breakfast area from the kitchen proper. Dawn stood on one side of the peninsula, gently ushering back visitors who attempted to stray towards the sink with an empty plate or glass. The message was quite clear — this was her territory, and she was the absolute ruler.
Following the flow of people towards the back door, he noticed Alex standing in the utility room. He had the internal door to the garage open, and seemed to be examining his father’s silver grey Volkswagen Passat.
Outside, the garden was screened by close-boarded timber fencing, making it as private as it could be on a modern estate. A paved terrace and gravel paths were bordered by ornamental trees and shrubs, which stood almost regimentally erect, as if prepared for inspection.
Cooper had never liked gardens that were too neat or formal. He preferred to see nature allowed in. A garden like the Nields’ felt too sterile, too artificial. Those shrubs might as well be made of plastic.
The only sign of real life was the dog — a large golden retriever lying disconsolately on the path. This must be Buster, the dog who’d chased the stick into the River Dove, and who’d been followed into the water by Emily Nield. According to some accounts, anyway. Cooper could hardly ask for an eyewitness statement from the animal itself.
The dog looked up and wagged a shaggy tail half-heartedly when it heard his footsteps, but lowered its head again when it failed to recognize him.
Cooper heard splashing, and walked towards the corner of the house. A small water feature tinkled at the end of the sun terrace. Water poured from the mouth of a twisted stone face. A god or gargoyle, he couldn’t tell.
But, even as he watched, the flow stopped suddenly. The mouth dried up, and the trough began gradually to empty. Puzzled, Cooper looked around for the source of the water. He couldn’t see a hose pipe, so presumably the supply came straight from the house.
Shrugging, he walked back in through the back door, and saw Alex still in the utility room. He smiled at the boy.
‘You need to get away from the crowds some time, don’t you?’
‘I wish they’d all go,’ said Alex.
‘I understand. Have you got some time off school?’
‘They’ve said I can take as long as I want.’
Cooper could practically see him itching to get back to his computer, to disappear into the security of his online world. He wondered if Alex was worried about getting ejected from his tribe if he stayed offline too long. How long did you get until you were kicked out, anyway? What was the leeway before you turned yellow? Or was Alex simply itching to destroy that stupid noob who’d just asked to join his tribe?
‘Alex, I think I saw your sister at the funeral this morning,’ said Cooper. ‘Your older sister. Lauren, isn’t it?’
The boy kept his head down. ‘Yeah, I saw her.’
‘When did she leave home?’
‘I dunno. About two years ago, I suppose.’
‘Alex, does the thirtieth of June mean anything to you?’ asked Cooper.
‘No, why?’
‘It isn’t Emily’s birthday, or anything?’
‘No, her birthday is in March.’
‘And Lauren’s?’
‘November.’
‘Thanks.’
Alex began to edge away, trying not to meet his eye.
‘Two years ago,’ said Cooper. ‘That would be while you still lived in Wetton?’
The boy nodded, then slunk off. Cooper still hadn’t got the chance to ask him more about what happened in Dovedale. But now wasn’t the time, either. He would have to find another excuse to visit the Nields. Another question, for another day.
When he was gone, Cooper noticed that the boy had been standing in front of a tap that controlled the flow to the water feature in the garden. So that explained it. Alex had been the one who turned it off.
Back in the house, the family and some friends were huddled over a collection of photographs. Not the type that Alex took, though. These were family snaps, the history of the Nields captured on glossy paper. Dawn was showing off Alex’s class photo, three rows of children lined up in their navy blazers.
She pointed out other people’s sons, surnames that seemed to mean something to her, but passed Cooper by. The more respectable families of Ashbourne, no doubt. He did notice that all Alex’s classmates seemed to have biblical names — Joshua, Daniel, Jacob, Gabriel. At one time, a child called Alex would certainly have been Scottish. And Gabriel would have been a character in the school nativity play — a role taken by a girl, too.
Cooper recalled his brother, Matt, complaining that all his daughters’ male classmates were called Jack, and that Amy and Josie treated him as if he was stupid for not knowing which one they were referring to. Well, according to the news-papers, Jack had been the most popular choice of a boy’s name for sixteen years running. That must be causing chaos in classrooms by now. But where were the Jacks among Alex’s friends?
‘Which of those are his closest friends, Mrs Nield?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure. He doesn’t mention any of them very often.’
‘Don’t any of his friends come to the house?’
‘They have been here, now and then. But they don’t come often enough for us to get to know them.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘Yes, he seems to prefer those solitary games he plays on his computer.’
‘Well, they’re not really solitary,’ said Cooper.
Dawn screwed up her eyes. ‘What?’
But before he could explain, she was drawn away to speak to someone else. Cooper realized that she didn’t know the difference between a game on a PlayStation and the kind of multi-player online world that Alex inhabited. In War Tribe he had many friends — allies, tribemates and neighbours, from all over the world. But he also had plenty of enemies.
Cooper said his goodbyes and left the Nields’ house. He had more than enough to do. He had a phone call to make to Diane Fry in Birmingham, for a start. She would be waiting to hear from him, and he didn’t want to let her down.
As he reached the end of the drive, Cooper heard footsteps running behind him. He turned and found Alex coming round the side of the house from the garage. He looked furtive, as if he’d just sneaked through the door from the utility room without his parents knowing that he’d left his room and was away from his computer.
‘Alex?’ said Cooper.
The boy held out a sheet of paper. ‘I printed this out for you. I thought you should have it.’
‘What is it?’
‘I have to go back.’
Cooper watched the boy run back into the garage and dodge past his father’s car. He unfolded the paper, and saw a colour image. The printing was poor quality, probably done on the small photo printer he’d seen in Alex’s room. But it wasn’t the quality that mattered. It was the subject.
The image was clearly one of Alex’s series from Dovedale. But it hadn’t been part of the slideshow on his
