Deep Wate - Sarah Epstein Page 0,71

revealed my cover story.

‘It was all I could think of. I needed somewhere on the train line in case anyone saw us at the station.’

‘So your dad thinks I like cricket now?’ Raf said, a slightly worried look on his face. ‘Amir’s really into it and even Mum and Min watch it, but the cricket gene skipped me altogether. It’s so bloody boring.’

‘I know. Don’t worry about it.’

‘What if your dad asks me the rules and stuff? Or who won what match or whatever?’

‘He won’t.’ I glanced at Raf, arching an eyebrow. ‘Why does it matter so much what my dad thinks of you?’

Turning to the window, his sunlit reflection mumbled, ‘It just does.’

He’s yawning now as we walk up the steps of St James station, the green and cream wall tiles and questionable smell reminding me of a toilet block in dire need of a scrubbing.

‘Missy said eleven o’clock,’ Raf says. ‘Why did we have to leave so early?’

‘Be prepared, Raf,’ I tell him. ‘You were a Scout. Isn’t that the motto?’

‘Yeah, but there’s being prepared and then there’s being two hours early like weirdo stalkers.’

‘We are one hour early,’ I point out, ‘and that gives us the advantage. We can scope out the scene and find a good spot to wait and watch for her.’

Raf yawns again, rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair as we step out of the station and into the sunshine. ‘If I’d known it was a police stakeout I would have brought doughnuts.’

I smile and shake my head at the way he’s glancing up and down the shopping precinct on Elizabeth Street. ‘Now you want a doughnut, don’t you?’

‘Yep,’ he says sadly, finding nothing except designer clothing stores.

Another text comes through from Sabeen.

Tell me when you get to Hyde Park.

She’s stuck helping out in the basement at Shallow Vintage Wares, so she’s insisted on constant updates. She was all set to cancel on Tom and Bernie so she could come with us today, especially since she’s still feeling doubtful about Bernie. We told Raf about the polaroids, but he thinks our suspicions are way off base. I really hope they are. In the end Sabeen’s guilty conscience got the better of her. ‘Rose called me to ask if I prefer strawberry jam or raspberry,’ Sabeen told me. ‘She’s baking scones to bring down to the shop at lunchtime because she knows they’re my favourite. How can I possibly abandon them now?’ I assured Sabeen she’s worth her weight in gold and promised we’d keep her informed.

Raf and I curve around to the left beside the train station, following a wide paved pathway towards the Archibald Fountain. The hexagonal pool must be twenty metres across, and there are currently dozens of people sitting on it, standing alongside it, or walking around the perimeter, not to mention those wandering up and down the nearby walkways through Hyde Park. I try to take in everything all at once, my senses on high alert. I forget for a moment that we’re early, and I’m supposed to be looking for somebody in a bright red coat.

‘We need to stand back a bit,’ Raf says, leading me across to the nearest patch of manicured lawn. There are eight wedges of grass surrounding the fountain in a circular shape, some with park benches and flowerbeds. Raf heads towards an empty seat.

‘Too far,’ I say, tugging the back of his jacket. ‘Here will do.’ I sit on the pathway’s stone kerb. My view of the fountain is momentarily obstructed by a walking tour group. Once they move I’m able to survey the scene from our new vantage point.

‘Listen,’ Raf says. ‘Maybe don’t get your hopes up.’

I turn to him, eyebrows raised.

‘I’m just saying—’ he scans the crowd, up and down, left and right, ‘—this might be a dead end.’

‘Why’d you bother coming then?’ I ask, unable to keep the sulk out of my voice.

Raf pulls a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. ‘I was worried about you coming alone.’

‘A-ha! So you do think someone will turn up.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Maybe’s better than not at all though, right?’

Raf holds my gaze for a moment before slipping his sunglasses on. ‘Maybe is what my mums used to say when we’d ask for things and they couldn’t bring themselves to say no.’

We’re quiet for a while, people-watching, listening to the constant drone of city noise. The sun is warm on the top of my head, and Raf leans back, turning his face up towards