‘Boy. His name’s Justin.’
‘Oh, I like that name. It’s one of my favourites.’
The woman pulled back the cover. ‘Not mine, I didn’t choose it. Well, I should think it’s fairly obvious I’m not his proper mother.’ She pulled back the cover and Karen held out a hand, as you might to an unpredictable dog. The baby pulled a face and looked as if he was going to cry.
‘He wants to get out,’ said Mrs Pearce, ‘but it’s too muddy and he’s grown out of his wellies. He lost his Mum, poor little blighter, not that he’ll remember her.’
‘His mother died? How awful.’ Meeting Liam Pearce’s mother at all was a miracle, getting into conversation with her was brilliant.
Mrs Pearce was staring into the distance. ‘I’m too old to start all over again with a kid this age. Still, what can you do? Wears me out, he does, and it won’t get any easier.’
‘Yes, I can imagine.’ She couldn’t, not really, but the more understanding she sounded the more likely it was that the woman would stay sitting on the bench. ‘He’s got a father has he? I suppose he goes to work.’
She snorted but made no comment. Then Karen had a sudden inspiration. ‘I don’t know if you ever need a baby-sitter. In the evenings. I have work I have to do – assignments and stuff – so I wouldn’t mind coming round. I wouldn’t charge.’
Mrs Pearce looked at her oddly and, just for a moment, Karen was afraid she had made her suspicious.
‘Thanks, love.’ She sighed, raising her huge bulk from the seat and releasing the brake on the buggy. ‘Nice of you to offer but I never go out, not these days.’
‘But you should. It would give you a break.’
‘Yes, I expect you’re right, but where would I go?’
‘Anywhere,’ said Karen desperately. ‘To a friend’s house?’
‘I can see them in the day time.’ She stood up and started walking towards the gates, quite briskly for someone her size. It was nearly half past, time for Justin’s programme, although Karen doubted if a baby that age would sit still for more than a few minutes at a time.
She walked beside her, but she knew she wouldn’t get any more out of her. Not today.
*
Tessie had a new swimming costume. Another? This one was pale blue with a white edging that showed off her suntanned legs. Karen never went brown, not with her colouring, but she’d read in a magazine that light skin was going to be the fashion this autumn. Some hope.
While the rest of them were in the water Tessie sat on the edge of the pool, dipping her toes in occasionally but making sure her costume stayed dry. The pool attendant seemed to have taken a fancy to her. He was called Russell and had worked at the Sports Centre for at least a year, but Karen couldn’t remember any of them talking to him before, apart from an occasional comment about the temperature of the water or the fact that too many noisy little kids had been allowed in the pool. His dark hair had started to recede a little although he only looked about twenty.
Karen swam past Tessie and splashed her. She took no notice. She was too busy making a good impression on Russell.
Later, in the changing rooms, Karen asked her what they had been talking about.
‘Oh, nothing in particular.’ Tessie was still in her cubicle. As usual Karen was ready long before her, standing in front of the mirror rubbing her hair with a damp towel while she waited for Tessie to emerge.
‘He was chatting you up, was he?’
Tessie let out a squawk. ‘No, of course not. Surely someone’s allowed to speak to you without being accused of–’
‘Come on,’ called Karen, ‘how can you be so slow when you didn’t even get wet?’
The door of the cubicle banged open and Tessie joined her in front of the mirror. ‘What’s the hurry? I don’t know what’s the matter with you these days, you never used to be so bad-tempered.’
‘Yes, I did.’ Karen gave her a shove in the back, trying to get back to the way they had been with each other a couple of months ago. It didn’t work.
‘How’s your History course?’ asked Tessie.
‘All right.’
‘I was never any good at History.’
‘Nor was I.’
They both laughed, but only for a moment. Then Karen changed the subject. ‘Listen, I met Joanne Stevens.’
‘Who?’ Tessie had taken a dryer from her bag and was feeling the ends of her hair.
‘Natalie Stevens’ sister. She works at the Arts Centre, in the cafe. She looks . . . Well, she’s not at all like Natalie.’
‘How d’you know what Natalie Stevens looked like?’
‘There was a picture in the paper. I went to the library and looked up some old copies. The first report of the murder, then a fuller description the next day, and later an account of the inquest.’
Tessie thought about this for a moment, then switched on the dryer and started smiling to herself. ‘D’you think Glen and I should get engaged?’ She had to shout above the noise. ‘He hasn’t said anything but I think it would be nice, more settled, more of a commitment.’
Karen gave up. She wanted to talk about Natalie Stevens’ murder but already Tessie had returned to the same old subject.
‘I didn’t know people got engaged any more,’ she yelled. ‘Actually I don’t see the point of getting married. The thought of living with the same person for the rest of your life . . . I can’t imagine anything more boring.’
‘But what about you and Simon?’ Tessie caught up with Karen who was halfway through the changing room door. ‘Don’t tell
