‘Not a word. I promise.’
‘Thank you, dear. Thank you ever so much.’ She opened her handbag and for a moment Karen thought she was going to offer her money. Then she found a tissue, blew her nose, and hurried off down the street.
On her way to Tessie’s house Karen thought about what Ann Stevens had said and tried to decide whether it had let Joanne’s father off the hook, or had exactly the opposite effect and made her even more suspicious.
Then she thought about Olive Pearce, sitting in the burger bar, and wondered if Liam knew about the meetings between the two grandmothers. There were so many things she needed to find out and the feeling had been growing that no more progress would be made until she met Liam Pearce and managed to persuade him to tell her his side of the story.
She would have to catch him on his own, but that would be difficult now he had sprained his ankle. She had been hoping to see him when he was playing football – but what good would that have done? He was hardly likely to have come straight off the pitch and agreed to start talking about Natalie to a total stranger.
*
Tessie was in the shower. Her mother invited Karen into the kitchen, then sat down at the table, smiling at her, but looking distinctly on edge.
‘Haven’t seen you for ages, Karen. How’s everything?’
‘Oh, all right.’ She had no wish to discuss her parents’ divorce. ‘They set us masses of work these days. At school, I mean.’
Mrs Livingstone nodded. She wasn’t really listening. She had something on her mind. Something about Tessie? As usual she was dressed the way Karen imagined the perfect wife and mother was supposed to. Smart skirt and matching jumper. Shiny apron, with a picture of Paddington Bear on the front.
What would it be like to have a mother who had no job, just did the odd bit of voluntary work, and devoted the rest of her time to the house and her husband and kids? Mrs Livingstone was the spitting image of Tessie – or should it be the other way round? When you saw her you knew how Tessie would look in twenty years time. What a thought!
‘I wondered if Tessie had said anything. About Glen.’
‘Glen. No, I don’t think . . .’
Karen broke off. Tessie was standing in the doorway. Her hair was dripping onto her shoulders and her face looked flushed, but it could have been the hot shower.
‘I wish you wouldn’t talk about me behind my back,’ she said dully, then she turned and went slowly back up the stairs.
Karen raced after her. ‘Tessie? Oh, come on. It wasn’t my idea. Your mother seems worried.’
Tessie pushed open the bedroom door. ‘You could have told me,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘Told you what?’ Karen closed the door behind her, then moved a teddy bear and an elephant out of the way and sat down on Tessie’s bed.
‘Hearing about it from you would have been bad enough, but better than my stupid brother announcing it in the middle of breakfast. Glen’s seeing someone else. There’s no point in trying to cover up for him.’
‘I’m not. Are you sure?’ Karen was thinking about the girl by the river. ‘Who is it?’
‘I don’t know her name,’ said Tessie.
‘What did Robin say?’
‘Not Robin. It was Nick. He was out with a friend, taking a stupid dog for a walk or something. They saw Glen near the Sports Centre, standing on the grass, holding hands with a girl.’
‘I expect he imagined it,’ said Karen. ‘The holding hands bit. What did she look like?’
‘Why? Nick couldn’t remember. Quite tall, with long hair.’
It seemed an awful thing to ask, in the circumstances, but Karen had to know. ‘Tessie, did Glen know Natalie Stevens?’
‘What?’
‘Natalie Stevens. Can you remember if Glen ever met her? I don’t mean he went out with her.’ She wanted to tell Tessie about the diary – the initials GF printed at regular intervals during the weeks preceding Natalie’s death. But how could she? ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, trying to sound cheerful, optimistic. ‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly ordinary explanation for why Glen was talking to whoever it was. I’ll ask Simon, shall I, then I’ll give you a ring.’
Chapter Thirteen
Karen waited until she saw Olive Pearce set out for the park. She was walking slowly, pushing the buggy over the wet grass towards the pond. A moment later she was joined by a woman with two Yorkshire terriers on long, expanding leads.
Karen stepped out from her hiding place behind the bus shelter, crossed the road to number eighty-eight, and rang the bell. With any luck Mrs Pearce would be out for at least half an hour. That was more than enough time for what she had to do.
At first she thought Liam must be out but as she reached out to press the bell again the front door was wrenched open and a sleepy-looking man, dressed in grey track suit bottoms and a thick white sweater, stood rubbing his eyes.
‘Yes?’
‘Liam Pearce?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could I come in for a moment? I have some information I think you might like to hear.’
It was a lie. There were various facts she could pass on to him, but none that he would find particularly interesting. She could tell him how Joanne had left home and moved into a one-roomed flat. She could describe how she had seen his mother sitting in the burger bar with Ann Stevens the previous evening. Why should he care? More than likely he would shout at her to mind her own business, then kick her out of the house.
He
