can barely believe has survived so perfectly, surrounded by the noise and sprawl Headington’s now become. But if the house is unexpected, it seems I am not. Or if not me, precisely, then someone like me. The woman who opens the door is probably the same age as Sasha’s mother, but Botox and an expensive hairdresser are doing a pretty successful job of masking it. She has a grey marl T-shirt, black leggings, silver flip-flops and bright-red toenails. She introduces herself (‘It’s Victoria but everyone calls me Tory’; believe me, there really is no answer to that) then leads me through the big slate-flagged entrance hall to a kitchen almost as large as the Blakes’ entire ground floor.
The girl at the long wooden table is doing something on an iPad. Outside, in the garden, a man with a long ponytail and a Crocodile Dundee hat is weeding the flower beds.
‘This is Detective Inspector Fawley, Isabel,’ the woman says. ‘He wants to ask you about Sasha. So turn that thing off and pay attention.’
She shoos at the iPad, as if it will just fold itself up and flap away, like some sort of stiff electronic crow.
Isabel rolls her eyes behind her mother’s back, and I catch her eye and endeavour to look conspiratorial, but I’m probably just freaking her out.
Mrs Parker turns to the worktop and the gleaming Nespresso machine. She hasn’t asked if I want anything.
‘I’ve just been talking to Patsie, Isabel,’ I say. ‘So obviously I wanted to talk to you as well. Perhaps you can take me through what happened last night?’
The girl shrugs. ‘I already told the other bloke. The fat one.’
‘I know, but it would really help if you could tell me as well.’
‘We went for a pizza in Summertown – that place on South Parade.’
‘Patsie said you got on the bus about 9.45. What time did you leave the restaurant?’
Another shrug. ‘Nine? Just after? We just hung out for a while after that.’
Like teenagers do. Like I did.
‘Then Patsie got off the bus in Marston and Sasha in Cherwell Drive?’
‘Yeah. And I stayed on till Headington.’
‘And you got back home when?’
‘Dunno. Half ten maybe.’
I turn to Mrs Parker. ‘We were out last night,’ she says, flushing slightly as if I’ve accused her of chronic child neglect. ‘But we were back by 11.00. Isabel was in here raiding the fridge.’
The girl is looking at her iPad again.
‘Patsie said the bus was really crowded – a bunch of foreign exchange students, she thought.’
Isabel looks up at me. ‘Yeah, so?’
‘Did you see where Sasha went when she got off the bus?’ She looks back at her screen and I dip my head, trying to catch her eye.
‘Isabel!’ says her mother sharply. ‘This is important – your friend is missing.’
The girl looks at her, and then at me. I’ve seen that look before. And on better liars than this girl.
‘OK, Isabel,’ I say, ‘whatever it is, you need to tell me. Right now.’
She looks distressed. ‘But I promised –’
‘I don’t care. I need to know.’
She sighs loudly. ‘Look, I think Sash was going to meet her boyfriend, ’K? She’d told her mum she’d be sleeping over at Patsie’s but when we were at the pizza place she changed her mind. I reckon she was going to see him. She didn’t actually say that, but that’s what me and Pats thought. She made us promise not to tell her mum.’
I can’t say any of that comes as much of a surprise. But it doesn’t do anything to shift my unease.
‘Did she get a call or a text or something – just before she changed her mind?’
She shrugs. ‘Maybe. Yeah, actually I think she did.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘I told you, she never said. She wouldn’t even admit she had a boyfriend. But there was definitely something going on – she’s been super secretive for, like, days and days.’
There’s a flush to her cheeks now. Her mother smiles. ‘Don’t worry, darling. You’re doing really well, isn’t she, Inspector?’
‘Does the name Ashley Brotherton mean anything to you, Isabel?’
Her eyes widen. ‘No, should it?’
‘Or Faith Appleford?’
‘No.’
I sit forward a little. ‘Now, this is really important. I know you said before that you didn’t see what Sasha did after she got off the bus. Can you think about that again and tell me if there’s anything you remember now?’
I hold her gaze. She knows what I’m saying: I’m prepared to bet you lied the first time, but I’m giving you another chance.
The flush deepens and she