“Absolutely right. As a result, Holly was repeatedly pushed in my direction. As if I could somehow sort her out.”
“How did that go?” She scoffed at the question. An answer of sorts.
“She wouldn’t open up to me, or anyone else for that matter. The girl was very closed off, defensive.” To Eric, that behaviour should have set off alarm bells but he wasn’t qualified to judge, not really. Casting his mind back, he could think of a half dozen school friends who fitted that description and none of those had diagnosable conditions as far as he was aware. Perhaps events beyond the confines of the school gates were affecting them. Perhaps, so it was with Holly as well. He had never experienced the Tiger Parent phenomena. He was grateful.
“Friends?” His tone was casual, seeking to put her at ease.
“Always on the periphery from what I could see, mixing with plenty but not with any one specific group.”
“What about Mark McCall?” Eric watched her for a response. There was a hint of a flame at the mention of his name and he hoped to fan it.
“They were friends, certainly. Mark talks about her a lot.” Eric encouraged her to elaborate by sitting in silence. Most people didn’t like silence. It was a classic salesperson’s technique. He had seen it on a fly on the wall documentary once. “I sometimes think he is a little obsessed with her. Not in a dangerous way, I must add, but he hangs on every word she says. I think it’s a result of his condition.”
“Condition?”
“Yes, his Asperger’s. I’m not breaking any confidentiality policy in telling you for everyone knows.” Eric found this enlightening.
“I didn’t realise he had a disability.”
“He doesn’t! At least we don’t see it that way and nor does he. Mark interprets information and processes it a unique way that is different to the rest of us. This gives him both skills and talents that some of us would love to have. Some would see it as a strength rather than a hindrance.” He felt a little embarrassed by his own ignorance. She appeared to notice his discomfort. It must have been obvious. “Please don’t worry. There is a great deal of misunderstanding regarding those on the spectrum and I would be lying if I tried to push aside the negative aspects to his condition.”
“And they are?” Eric asked, priming his pen once more. Any reticence from her had now passed.
“People on the spectrum are all different. In Mark’s case, he sees the world as black and white. There are no grey areas. Almost everything is taken quite literally. If you were to tell Mark aliens exist, for example, he would believe you and not question it even for a second. He is a very trusting young man, far too much so in my opinion. We’ve had to work very hard to ensure the other pupils don’t take advantage of him. They often did, which was deeply upsetting for Mark. If you’re not in on the joke and don’t understand, then it can be a painful experience. This often led to outbursts and on occasion, those outbursts turned violent. Holly… well, she used to look out for him in one respect but…” She failed to complete the sentence, her words tailing off.
“But?” Eric pressed, sensing this was significant.
“I don’t know. I wonder what Holly got out of it. Sometimes… I got the impression her friendship with Mark was quite one-sided, that she was toying with him somehow. Leading him on may be overstating it but… yes, I think it fits.” Eric sat back. That was quite an interesting turn of events. “I think she enjoyed the adoration he provided. I don’t know if it’s relevant but Mark didn’t show up for classes this morning.”
Chapter Nineteen
Jane woke to the memory of the two bottles of wine the night before. Her mouth was dry. The bed next to her was empty, unslept in. Glancing at the clock, the kids should be up by now if they were to make it to school on time. Normality. That was required at this point. Her thoughts were plagued by that ordinary woman, the senior detective, or whatever she called herself. The arrogant cow. To come into their home and insinuate… who knows what? Ken hadn’t helped. What he told the other one would undoubtedly put him at the top of the list of suspects. If not, then they were incompetent and she was certain they were far from it.
Slipping out from under the duvet, she pulled on some clothes and dragged a brush through her hair. Her senses were dulled by the alcohol but not greatly. Two bottles was standard these days, nothing exceptional. The curtains were open, she never closed them preferring to wake to the sun streaming in through the window. Ken must have slept in the studio again, although why he would want to was a mystery. To be alone with his misery.
Finding William’s bedroom empty, she entered Rosie’s. The children were nowhere to be seen. Heading downstairs, breakfast had already taken place. Cereal boxes were on the table, as were the cartons of fruit juice and a bottle of milk, but the dirty bowls and glasses were neatly stacked above the dishwasher waiting to be loaded. The children appeared from the boot room, coats and shoes on, school book bags in their hands. There was none of the usual squabbling that came along with preparation for the school run. Ken was a few steps behind. He smiled as he entered the kitchen.
“We’re ready. Are you joining us?” he asked her. The children demanded that she did.
“I’ve not showered or had breakfast. What will people think?”
“Then you can stay in the car while I walk them in. No one will see. It won’t matter.” Usually so fastidious with her presentation, never one to appear in
