“Do you mind?” he asked. “Clearing up the stuff?”
“No, go on, scarper.”
“Remember what I said, Nadia.”
“Sure, sure. Now push off, partner.”
“You’re not going to stop, are you?”
I shut my eyes for a moment, felt in my imagination his mouth against my throat.
“I don’t know. I can’t say.”
Parents and nannies started arriving-I can tell the difference between the two a mile off. I dismantled the theater and started to stack it into its box. A pretty young woman came up to me with a cup of tea.
“Mrs. Wyndham asked me to bring you this.” She had silver-blond hair and a funny, lilting accent.
I took it gratefully.
“Are you Oliver’s nanny?”
“No. I came to collect Chris. He lives just down the road.” She picked up a puppet and examined it, put it on her hand. “It must be hard, your job.”
“Not as hard as yours. Do you have just the one?”
“There are two older ones, but Josh and Harry are at school. Does this go in the bag?”
“Thanks.” I gulped at the tea and started loading up. I had this down to an art. She stayed, looking at me. “Where do you come from? Your English is fantastic.”
“Sweden. I was meant to go home but there was a bit of fuss.”
“Oh,” I said vaguely. Where was that wand? I bet Oliver had wandered off with it and worked out how to bend it into segments. “Well, thanks, er…”
“Lena.”
“Lena.”
She disappeared back into the kitchen, where the other nannies were gathered round their charges, watching them stuff chocolate pieces of train into their mouths and talking about boyfriends and nightlife. Children started leaving. “Say thank you,” I heard, and “Where’s my party bag?” and “Harvey’s got a blue one-I want a blue one too.”
I picked up all my stuff. Thank God Lynne was out there with her car. There were some advantages to being followed around by a blushing, stubborn policewoman. A small fair-haired boy bumped into me in the hall. He had violet smudges under his eyes and a chocolate smear round his mouth.
“Hi,” I said brightly, determined to make a quick exit.
“My mummy’s dead,” he said, fixing me with his bright gaze.
“Oh well,” I said, looking around. The mother was probably in the kitchen somewhere.
“Yup. Mummy died. Daddy says she’s gone to heaven.”
“Really?” I said.
“No,” he said, taking a suck of his lolly. “I don’t think she’s gone
“Well…” I said.
“A man killed her dead.”
“That can’t be true.”
“In true life,” he insisted.
Lena returned, carrying his jacket. “Come on, Chris, home,” she said.
He took her hand.
“I want my party bag first.”
“He says his mother was killed,” I said.
“Yes,” she said simply.
“What? Really?”
I put down the box and bent down to Chris again. “I’m very sorry,” I said again, ineptly. I couldn’t think what to say.
“Can I have my party bag now?” He tugged on Lena’s hand impatiently.
“When did this happen?” I asked Lena.
“Two weeks,” she said. “It’s a terrible thing.”
“Christ.” I looked at her with fascination. I’d never been near someone who’d been near someone who was murdered. “What happened?”
“Nobody knows.” She shook her head from side to side so her silver hair swung. “It happened in the home.”
I gawked at her.
“How terrible. How terrible for everyone.”
Mrs. Wyndham came up with a party bag for Chris. It looked three times as big as everyone else’s.
“There you are, darling,” she said, and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “If there’s anything I can do…” She sighed, as if it hurt her just to look at him. “Little lamb.” She glanced round at me. “I’ll get you your money, Miss Blake. I won’t be a minute-it’s all ready.”
“I’ve got two packets of sweets and Thomas only got one,” said Chris triumphantly. “And I’ve got a slime ball.”
“Here’s your money, Miss Blake.”
From her tone of finality, it didn’t sound as if we would be asked back.
“Thanks.” I shouldered all my gear again and turned to go.
“Good luck,” I said to the young nanny.
“Thank you.”
We lingered in the hall together. I couldn’t leave yet. Zach was going back on his own. I had to say good-bye to him.
“Was it a robbery?”
“No,” she said.
“He wrote letters,” Chris said brightly.
“What?”
Lena nodded and sighed.
“Yes,” she said. “It was horrible. Letters saying that she would be killed. Like love letters.”
“Like love letters,” I repeated dully.
“Yes.” She picked up the little boy and he wrapped his legs round her waist. “Come on, Chris.”
“Wait. Wait one minute. Didn’t she call the police?”
“Oh yes. There were many police.”
“She still died?” I said, feeling icy cold.
“Yes.”
“What were they called?”
“What?”
“The policemen. What were their names?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Can you remember their names?”
“Remember? I am seeing them every day. There is Links, Stadler. And a psychologist: Dr. Schilling. So. Why? What is it?”
“Oh, nothing important.” I smiled at her while my insides burned. “I thought I might know them.”
NINE
“You all right, Nadia?”
“What?”
I looked round, startled, hardly knowing where I was. I was sitting next to Lynne in her car. She was leaning
