in Cheyne Walk, will it be off the record? Or can I be a journalist?’
‘You can be whatever you like.’
‘Can I record you?’ Miller reaches for his phone in his back pocket.
‘Sure,’ says Phin, his fingers raking through the thick fur on the cat’s back. ‘Why not? Nothing to lose any more. Go for it.’
Miller fiddles with his phone for a while. Libby notices his hands shaking slightly, betraying his excitement. She takes another large sip of wine, to calm her own nerves. Then Miller lays his phone on the table and asks, ‘So. You say I got everything wrong in my article. Can we start there?’
‘Certainly.’ The fat cat jumps down from Phin’s lap and he absent-mindedly brushes hairs from his trouser legs with the sides of his hands.
‘So, when I was researching the article, I came upon a man called David Thomsen. Thomsen with an E.’
‘Yes,’ says Phin. ‘My father.’
Libby sees a kind of triumphant relief flood across Miller’s face. He exhales and says, ‘And your mother – Sally?’
‘Yes, Sally is my mother.’
‘And Clemency …?’
‘My sister, yes.’
‘And the third body …’
‘Was my father.’ Phin nods. ‘Spot on. Such a shame you didn’t work all that out before you wrote your article.’
‘Well, I kind of did. But I couldn’t find any of you. I searched for months, without a trace. So, what happened to you all?’
‘Well, I know what happened to me. But I’m afraid I have no idea what happened to my mother and Clemency.’
‘You haven’t stayed in touch?’
‘Far from it. I haven’t seen them since I was a teenager. As far as I’m aware my mother lives in Cornwall and I’m going to assume that my sister does too.’ He shrugs and picks up his wine glass. ‘Penreath,’ he says.
Miller throws him a quizzical look.
‘I’m pretty sure she lives in Penreath.’
‘Oh,’ says Miller. ‘That’s great, thank you.’
‘You are very welcome,’ he replies. Then he rubs his hands together and says, ‘Ask me something else! Ask me what really happened on the night that everybody died.’
Miller smiles grimly and says, ‘OK. So, what really happened then? On the night that everyone died?’
Phin looks at both of them, mischievously, then leans in so that his mouth is directly over the microphone on Miller’s phone and says, ‘Well, for a start, it wasn’t suicide. It was murder.’
37
CHELSEA, 1991
Phin was gone for a week. I could hardly bear the pointlessness of everything without him around. With him in the house, every journey to the kitchen was ripe with the possibility of seeing his face, every morning began with the thought of potential encounters. Without him I was in a dark house full of strangers.
And then, a week later, I heard the front door slam and voices rising from the hallway, and there was Phin, Sally behind him, talking in urgent tones to David, who stood with his arms folded across his stomach.
‘I did not tell him to come. For God’s sake. That’s the last thing I would have done. It’s bad enough me overstaying my welcome at Toni’s. Let alone my teenage son.’
David said, ‘Why didn’t you call?’
‘He told me you knew he was coming! How was I supposed to know? And I called you now, didn’t I?’
‘I thought he’d been killed. We’ve been worried sick.’
‘We? Who the fuck is “we”?’
‘Us,’ said David. ‘All of us. And please don’t use that language in our home.’
‘Phin tells me you hit him.’
‘Oh, I did not hit him. For God’s sake. It was a slap.’
‘You slapped him?’
‘Good God, Sal, you have no idea, no idea at all what it’s like living with this child. He’s rude. He steals. He takes drugs. He disrespects the other housemates …’
Sally put her hand up between them. ‘Enough,’ she said. ‘He’s a teenager. He’s a good kid, but he’s a teenager. It comes with the territory.’
‘Well, that might be true in your slightly pathetic view of the world. But the rest of the world would disagree. There’s no excuse for any of it. I would never have dreamed of behaving in such a way when I was his age. It’s diabolical.’
I saw Sally’s hand grip Phin’s shoulder. I saw her cheeks hollow. Then she said, ‘I’m looking at a flat tomorrow. In Hammersmith. Two bedrooms. We can start splitting access to the children.’
David looked sceptical. ‘How are you going to pay for it?’
‘I’ve been working, and saving.’
‘Well, we’ll see. But seriously, I don’t think Phin’s safe in your care. You’re too soft on him.’