Emma Nicholls frowned. ‘Is that important? She’s dead.’
‘I know. But we have to ask these questions. Helps us find out who did it.’
‘Right.’The frown slowly disappeared to be replaced by a sigh. ‘She seemed happy about it, from what I could gather.’
‘We believe she had friends round last night.’
‘Yes. A baby shower.’ Her lip trembled again.
‘Ms Nicholls, we’re trying to track down anyone one else who may have been there. Could you give me any names?’
Emma Nicholls didn’t have to give the matter any thought. ‘Chrissie Burrows. Geraint Cooper. They were talking about it this morning.’
‘That’s it? Just those two?’
‘Just…’ Tears threatened her eyes again.
Anni waited until the head teacher was once more under control.
‘Ms Nicholls, I’ll need to talk to them too.’
Emma Nicholls nodded. Anni looked at her notes. ‘What about Claire’s boyfriend? Did she ever mention him?’
The frown returned to Emma Nicholls’ face, along with a guarded look in her eyes. ‘Her boyfriend.’
‘Ryan Brotherton,’ said Anni, looking at her notes once more. ‘At least that’s what we’re assuming. His name crops up a lot in her diary. Dates, that sort of thing. Did she ever mention him at all?’
‘Well, Claire didn’t have a very… easy relationship with him from what I could gather. As I said, it was none of my business. She was an excellent teacher, very professional, and the children adored her. Whatever else went on in her life, as long as it didn’t impinge on work I couldn’t get involved.’
Anni said nothing.
Emma Nicholls continued. ‘Claire had recently split up with her partner.’
Anni frowned. She hadn’t received that impression from the notebooks in Claire’s flat.
‘You look surprised.’
‘I am. I was given to understand that the relationship was still ongoing.’
Emma Nicholls shook her head. ‘Again, I must stress that I seldom interfere, but my staff know my door is always open for them. A few months ago Claire was looking very despondent. I asked her if she wanted to talk. She didn’t. Julie…’ Again the dark cloud descended as she spoke the name. ‘Julie… told me that Claire and her partner had split up. And that Claire was taking it very badly.’
‘When would this have been?’
Emma Nicholls thought. ‘About… when she announced she was pregnant. Five months ago? Six months. Something like that.’ Her fingers fidgeted again. ‘Everyone rallied round, as I said. And she got over it eventually.’
‘Do you think she wanted him back?’
Emma Nicholls looked surprised at the question. ‘Of course. Wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes. I suppose I would,’ Anni said, trying to smile.
‘Yes. Even him.’
Anni leaned forward. ‘Even him? What d’you mean?’
Emma Nicholls did her auditioning thing once more. ‘He… I don’t think he did her much good. Not just running out when she was pregnant, but…’ She put her head back. Anni felt as if she was about to impart something important. Then she leaned forward, waved her hand. Whatever it was she was going to say, the moment had passed. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know. You wanted facts. Anything else I could say would be conjecture.’
Anni realised this would be as much as she was going to get on Claire Fielding. She checked her notes once more. ‘What about Julie Simpson?’
‘What about her?’
‘Anything happened to her recently that strikes you as out of the ordinary?’
Emma Nicholls frowned in thought. Shook her head. ‘Nothing… No. Nothing.’
‘Any enemies?’
‘Enemies?’ Emma Nicholls looked round the room as if unable to believe what she had just heard. ‘She was a primary school teacher, not a… an international terrorist.’
‘No,’ said Anni, ‘but she’s also just been murdered.’
Emma Nicholls’ face fell. Her head nodded forward. ‘No,’ she said to the floor, ‘no enemies. She was liked in this school. Well liked.’
‘No…’ Anni tried to be tactful, ‘liaisons? Anything like that? Something that could go wrong?’
‘No. Nothing at all. Nothing.’
Anni nodded. There were at least two people she thought would be able to help her more than the professionally guarded Emma Nicholls. ‘Chrissie Burrows, Geraint Cooper,’ she said. ‘Where could I find them, please?’
Emma Nicholls made arrangements for Anni to see them. Anni put her notebook away, rose to go, thanked the head teacher for her time.
‘Not at all. I just wish I could have been more help.’
‘You’ve been fine.’
Emma Nicholls put her hand on Anni’s arm, stopped her from leaving. ‘There is one more thing. Perhaps you were right.’
Anni frowned. ‘About what?’
‘Ryan Brotherton. I know I said it was over between them. But I got the impression… and again this is just conjecture, not fact… I got the impression that it may have been over but it wasn’t quite finished. Do you know what I mean?’
‘I do. Some people are like that,’ said Anni.
‘Men in particular,’ said Emma Nicholls.
14
Caroline Eades pointed the BMW 4x4 towards Stanway, drove out of the city centre. As she took it round the roundabout and down the Lexden Road, she felt once again that she wasn’t just driving a car but manoeuvring a tank. She knew all her friends at the gym were jealous, told her how much they loved it, but she hated it. She wished she had never let Graeme buy it for her.
Her lunch had passed in a pleasant enough way, the same as it always did. Her friends were good company and it was always fun to catch up with the gossip. The Life cafe on Culver Street West wasn’t Starbucks or Caffe Nero, and when it was her turn, she always insisted they went there. Everyone else went to the chains because they thought they were somewhere to be seen. And because they had the same menu all day every day in every branch and you knew what you were getting. But Caroline found that boring, depressing even. She preferred Life. And the others went along with her.
With original art for sale on the walls and iMac internet access, Life was individual, a one-off, and it made her feel like an individual going there. It was bright and airy and the coffee and cakes were good. Not that she allowed herself cakes all that often. She had compromised: a slice of rocky road with the marshmallows removed. Well, most of them.
She turned off the Lexden Road before it became London Road, feeling her arms ache as she spun the wheel – even with the power steering it was a beast to manage – and headed towards her estate. It was starting to feel like home now. She had moved there nearly two years ago from a small but very pleasant house in St Mary’s, an area over the walkway from the Mercury Theatre, just outside the town’s wall. Bordered to the west by Crouch Street, and on the east by the wall, it had the feel of a little village within the town, but the nearness to the centre meant it wasn’t too cut off. Broad Street also had its delis, designer clothes shops, restaurants, pubs and furniture shops, all adding to the feel. However, like so much of the town, it had become choked by new apartment blocks and she took that as her sign to leave. By then it was just another suburban outpost of Colchester, the chi-chi shops
