looking for work,’ I heard her say, scampering after him like a puppy, a feat for someone so tall and thin. ‘Do you know if they have any vacancies?’
A warm jet of air shot through my nose. What, love? I nearly called out. Safety flautist? Piping the workers out of danger to a laid-on buffet? It’s an industrial chemical plant, for God’s sake, with 30,000 employees, not a cultural centre with walk-in café.
Still, Mark seemed happy to say he’d have a word with Pamela in personnel, that there might be something on the admin side.
It was the most I’d heard him say in a while. And it was only when they’d both gone that I realised I’d never given her any teabags.
7
Katie
Transcript of recorded interview with Katie Edwards (excerpt)
Also present: DI Heather Scott, PC Marilyn Button
HS: Hi, Katie. Thanks for coming in to talk to us. I know this is a difficult time. We’re just trying to build up a picture of everything that’s happened over the past few months, all right? Does that sound OK?
KE: Yeah. No worries.
HS: Would you like a cup of tea or anything?
KE: I’m OK, ta.
HS: OK. All right. So, first of all, can you tell us anything about your mother’s state of mind, going back to the end of June this year?
KE: She was depressed. That’s why I took a year out.
HS: You took a year out because of your mother?
KE: Don’t tell her. Don’t tell her, will you?
HS: Of course not. Can you tell us why you wanted to keep that from your mum?
KE: (Pause) It was before June. She was bad last year – not as bad, but bad, like, you know? I was meant to be going in the October, a month after Kieron, but I just felt really heartless leaving her. But I didn’t want her to know I knew how bad she was, like, so I said I wanted to do a gap year, and to be fair, I was meant to be doing psychology but I was thinking of changing and going into stage management or stage make-up or something on that side, so I wanted to be sure before I took out a big loan. So yeah, I was worried about her. But can I just say, she didn’t kill those people. My mum’d never kill anyone.
HS: All right, Katie. Let us do our job. I promise we’ll get to the truth for you. I’m going to ask you where you were on the following dates, is that OK?
KE: Of course. Ask me anything you like. It wasn’t her, though. I’m telling you. It just wasn’t.
8
Rachel
As I said to Ingrid, I work behind the bar at the Barley Mow. I’ve been a barmaid for about three years, but I’ve done everything. You name it, I’ve had a go at it. More careers than Barbie, me. Mark used to tease me that I’d be an astronaut before I was done – when he used to tease me, that is. I’ve been a shop assistant, supermarket shelf stacker, restaurant receptionist, childminder, waitress. Before I had Kieron, I was a line manager over in a paper-ware factory on Astmoor Industrial Estate – party cups, napkins, tablecloths and the like. It had to be me that gave up work. I never suggested Mark be a stay-at-home dad in the same way I never suggested he wear a tiara to the pub, if you know what I mean.
Then, when the kids were little, I looked after some of the other kids along with mine. That way, I made a bit of cash on the side and I always had plenty of mum friends. We used to go to the park together and to the soft-play centre, where we could drink coffee and natter safe in the knowledge that the kids wouldn’t hurt themselves on anything sharp. Kieron was mad for the coloured ball pit, used to cry when we left, bless him.
Once my own kids became more independent, I got a cashier job in the Co-op, but then I saw they were hiring in the Barley Mow. I love talking to people and you don’t get decent conversation if someone’s just paying for milk and a packet of sausages, so I went in and asked at the bar and got the job on the spot. I suppose my favourite jobs have always involved dealing with people, which is maybe why I thought I could read them so well. University of Life type