‘So, what do you require, Rebecca Adams?’
‘Bex,’ Bex said. She straightened her spine, as if that would help the words to rise up a little easier. ‘I’ve been accused of something I didn’t do and I heard that you sometimes helped –’
‘I always help,’ Iris said.
‘Yes, well. That’s good, then, because –’
‘What didn’t you do?’ Iris had so many wrinkles around her eyes that it was difficult to tell whether she was giving a sceptical look or an amused one.
‘Steal a pair of cufflinks.’
Iris sat back a little. ‘That sounds like a police matter. The new plod is very good. He’ll see you right.’
‘I thought you said you always helped.’ Bex didn’t know what she’d expected.
‘I’m pointing you in the right direction. That’s helpful.’
‘That’s not what I need,’ Bex began, but Iris broke in. ‘Yes, it is. Trust me.’
Bex was so ashamed of her mistake that she never usually mentioned it, let alone to a near-stranger. She hated the way their faces changed when they realised she wasn’t a decent person, but with Iris it wasn’t too bad. She had the impression the old boot didn’t like her much, anyway, and she had an unshockable quality. ‘They might not believe me.’
‘Belief doesn’t come into it,’ Iris said. ‘The police work on evidence.’
‘I have a record. I got caught shoplifting when I was sixteen.’
Iris blinked. ‘Childish high jinks. They won’t worry about that.’
‘I wasn’t a child,’ Bex said. ‘And the make-up I took was pretty expensive. It wasn’t just a few sweeties from the pick and mix.’ It had been so stupid. A moment of madness, people called it, but Bex felt she had been going mad for months beforehand. She had been so unhappy, so worried about her parents and their constant rowing, and so sick of worrying, too. She’d wanted something else to fill her mind, something so extreme it would transport her to another reality, if only for a few minutes. It had worked. The new reality had involved sitting in the police station, terrified and ashamed, and being interviewed by the disapproving forces for the public good. Not to mention the trouble she’d been in once her dad had taken her home. The worst thing was how embarrassed he’d been. She’d mortified both of her parents, adding the shame and stress of having a criminal for a daughter to their already-fraught relationship. The arguments had happened before, but after she was arrested, they got much worse. Her mum blamed her dad for coddling her and her dad said that her mum was too lax. They both agreed that staying together wasn’t in anyone’s best interests. Bex had proved that. She hadn’t meant to prove anything of the sort, but people could surprise you. Deep down, Bex had hoped that if she was a massive screw-up, her parents would rally together. They would see how much they were hurting her, their child, and they would start acting like grown-ups. Together.
Instead, her mum decided she preferred a party life with a string of younger boyfriends to dealing with a thieving daughter and a tricky marriage. Her dad, who had probably thought his days of being publicly humiliated were over, let Bex know that she had really put the cherry on top of the crap-sandwich that was his life. ‘People around here think worse of us because we don’t have a Range Rover and my parents worked in the paper mill, and you just proved them all right.’
‘Perhaps they won’t call the police,’ Iris said. ‘When they calm down I’m sure they’ll reconsider. I take it you looked for the missing cufflinks?’
‘Yes’ Bex said, exasperated, ‘of course.’
‘Still,’ Iris waved a hand as if shooing away a cat. ‘You’ll be fine. Tell the truth and it’s their word against yours.’
‘Their word is pretty strong.’
‘Well then,’ Iris said. ‘Perhaps you’d better look again. Perhaps they fell down behind something. Or maybe they fell into your bag.’
Bex sat back. ‘You’re very rude.’
Iris shrugged. ‘Just going on the evidence. Most people don’t change and you told me you’re a thief.’
‘Once. I stole one time. And I never would again.’
‘You learned your lesson?’
‘If you want to put it like that.’
‘Oh, I do,’ Iris said. After a moment she said, ‘I believe you.’
Bex tried not to feel pleased. ‘I didn’t come here for your blessing or something.’
‘I could vouch for you,’ Iris said. ‘My word means a lot in this town.’
‘More than Mr Farrier’s?’
The atmosphere changed. If Bex had been a fanciful person, she’d have said the air in the room drained of warmth. Her practical head told her that a cloud must’ve passed in front of the sun at just that moment.
When she spoke, Iris’s voice was like the crackle of dry grass. ‘James Farrier?’
Bex shook her head. ‘Alistair.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course,’ Bex said. ‘He’s my boss. What’s wrong?’
‘I didn’t know there were Farriers in Pendleford, that’s all. It surprised me.’ Iris looked away.
‘Well, you can’t know everyone,’ Bex said, ‘especially the way the town is growing. I bet it’s changed a lot since you were –’ She’d been going to say ‘young’, but Iris was staring into space with a vacant expression. It was like she’d stepped out of the room for a moment, but had forgotten to take her body with her.
‘I’ll get out of your hair,’ Bex said, standing up.
Iris looked up, then, her eyes refocused. ‘How long have you worked for them. The Farriers?’
‘Six months or so,’ Bex said, ‘since they moved here.’
Iris tilted her head as if she was considering something, but when she spoke it was just a goodbye.
Chapter Three
Iris leaned over her journal, making careful notes on Martin Angel and Fred Byres. Her back was still sore, though in a slightly more distant and more manageable way, but her eyelids were drooping. She felt weary through and through and her head was too heavy for her shoulders.
What was most worrying was the
