Cath nods. ‘Briefly. It was she who asked me to come here and tell you. I said that if you wanted me to, I’d take you home with me, but I thought you’d want to go to Sussex. There must have been a mistake. We have to believe that, Jess. I can’t believe she could have done anything wrong.’
‘But the police must think she has.’ My eyes are wide as I stare at her. ‘What has she actually been arrested for?’
‘I think in connection with his disappearance. Presumably that means they’re still investigating.’
Anguish fills me, as I think of everything she’s been through. ‘Mum hasn’t been herself. Not since she met Matt. He’s a shit. Sorry … But he is.’
‘I know he is.’ Cath shakes her head. ‘He had me fooled at the start, though. And he completely fooled your mum. She always told me how happy she was.’
‘I think they were happy – at the start.’ I stare at Cath. ‘Why else would they have been together? It’s why I put up with him. But he could be horrible to her. Cruel. And before he disappeared, it was like he hated her.’
‘I have an idea how these things work.’ Cath frowns. ‘After all, I stayed with Oliver, letting him drag me down, when I should have moved out months ago. But I never imagined it happening to your mum.’
‘There’s something else.’ I glance back to the montage of Facebook pictures stuck to my wall. ‘It’s creepy. All these friends of his – they’re connected. Each connection brought him closer to Mum – until that party where they met. By then, they knew a whole load of people in the same circle. I actually watched him make his move that day. And the rest is history.’
‘But why?’ Cath looks mystified.
I shake my head. ‘That’s the bit I haven’t been able to work out yet.’
*
As we leave Falmouth behind, the leaden skies lighten, but only slightly. It’s one of those days that knows only half-light, the drive seeming endless, while my brain tries to pull together the little I know and make sense of it. On the way, I text Rik, wanting him to know what I’m doing. Something’s going on with Mum. I’m on my way home. I’ll call you and fill you in later xxxx
The further east we drive, the busier the roads become. The closer we get to Brighton, the longer the journey seeming to take; my frustration building as roadworks mean the city centre is gridlocked.
Gazing out of the window, even the sea is different here, the same steel shade as the sky. Our speed reduced to a crawl, I wish none of this was happening; that Mum was at home and I was back in Cornwall – my hatred for Matt growing with every minute.
Eventually we reach the custody centre. As Cath turns into the car park, I’m nervous suddenly, my stomach knotting up as she finds a parking space. As we go inside, the custody sergeant looks up from behind a desk.
‘I’m Jess Reid. You have my mother here – Amy Reid. I want to see her.’
He nods towards a few chairs set in a corner by a window. ‘Can you take a seat over there?’
As Cath and I do as he says, she looks at me anxiously. ‘You OK, Jess?’
‘Yes.’ There’s no point in saying I’m anything else. But how can I be, when I’m here instead of in Falmouth, with my mother being held on suspicion of committing a crime. It’s nothing other than a living nightmare.
Only a few minutes pass before a policewoman walks over to us. Instantly, I recognise her. ‘Hello, Jess. I’m PC Page. We spoke before, at your house.’ Questioningly, she turns to Cath.
‘I’m Cath Bowers. We spoke on the phone.’
A flicker of recognition crosses the policewoman’s face. ‘Yes, of course.’ She turns back to me. ‘Before you talk to your mother, do you think you and I could have a chat?’ She glances around as if looking for somewhere.
Not sure I have a choice, I shrug. ‘OK.’
‘Would you like me to come with you?’ Beside me, Cath sounds uncertain.
I shake my head. ‘I’ll be OK.’
‘Right. Shall we find somewhere quieter?’ As PC Page starts to walk along a corridor, I follow behind, then she shows me into a small room, with white painted walls and a small window. ‘We shouldn’t get disturbed in here. Have a seat, Jess.’
The plastic chairs remind me of uni classrooms. Pulling one out across a table, I sit down opposite her. After organising the papers she’s holding, she gets out a pen, then looks at me. ‘I know we talked before, just after Mr Roche disappeared, but I wanted to ask you more about his relationship with your mother. Can you describe how they were together? From the beginning?’
I try to cast my mind back to a time when my views were untainted, to when Matt was new in our lives. When my mother was the same as she’d always been – before I’d noticed things change. ‘They seemed happy together, to start with. He used to pick her up and take her out for dinner. But after he moved in, I missed quite a lot of what went on because I started uni. She never said anything to me, but when I came back that first Christmas, things seemed different.’
‘In what way?’
I try to work out how best to explain it. ‘Her excitement had definitely gone. It was like they’d skipped a couple of decades and had turned into a middle-aged couple who sniped at each other. Except …’
‘Go on,’ she says quietly.
‘It was always Matt who did the sniping, like she irritated him. It was like he looked for reasons to criticise her. It didn’t make sense, because they were still planning to get married. My mother almost seemed blind to it. She was convinced he loved her. She was always saying love was about compromise.’ I pause,
