we supposed to confide in each other?’
Amber scoffs. ‘Get real.’
‘Yup, you’re right.’ Ruby starts to walk around the room. ‘I know you’ve always resented me, ever since the day I was born. You disapprove of everything I do, the people I mix with, how I live my life. You’ve never been a proper sister – somebody I could rely on. For years you didn’t give a shit about me. You only allowed me to look after Mabel so you could meet your lover.’
‘I don’t have a lover.’
‘You’ve hated every minute of being a mum.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Mum thinks you’re Little Miss Perfect and I’m the fuck-up, but actually it’s—’
Something inside Amber snaps. ‘Oh, shut up, for God’s sake. This isn’t about your jealousy or your relationship with Mum. It isn’t about us, Ruby. It’s about Mabel.’
Ruby swings round. ‘Yes, absolutely. You asked me over for an honest conversation, Amber, but you’re the one who’s lying, not me.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Day Seven without Mabel
Ruby squeezes Lewis’s arm as they stand in the front garden of number 74. ‘Thanks for being here,’ she says. ‘Means a lot to me.’
‘It’s important to be seen together,’ he replies. ‘A show of solidarity.’
‘Yes. I guess.’
It’s Saturday morning, the day of the reconstruction. Ruby has loaned her jacket and bobble hat to the police officer picked to play her role – a woman of her height with a similar hairstyle, although facially completely unalike. Ruby offered to do it herself, but DI Benedict was worried that she might get attacked by a member of the public on route. Feelings against her and Lewis are still running high on social media, and although they were both released without charge, the police haven’t yet publicly exonerated them. She is still being treated as a witness, but she feels increasingly like a suspect, Lewis even more so. That’s why they have to be here today. To tough it out; be as cooperative as possible and behave as if they’ve nothing to hide. It’s the truth anyway.
The front garden looks like a location shoot, littered with open metal boxes full of camera equipment, and hefty bearded guys muttering into their phones. Ruby and Lewis huddle in the downstairs neighbour’s porch, trying to keep out of the way. The garden offers a safe haven; neither public nor press can touch them here. Two uniformed officers are guarding the gate, and sections of the street and park have been cordoned off with fresh plastic tape. The media have been forced back and are pushing against the tape like paparazzi waiting for a celebrity to emerge from the house. Their distasteful excitement stings the back of Ruby’s throat, making her want to throw up.
She stamps her boots in the cold. She would rather be inside the flat, cradling a mug of coffee, but neither she nor Lewis is welcome there. Amber and George are holed up indoors, protected by bricks and mortar and the family liaison officer, who keeps popping in and out in order to talk to her colleagues, never missing the chance to throw them a furtive, almost hostile look. DI Benedict, the boss, is walking up and down the pavement, speaking earnestly into his phone with his hand cupped over the receiver. DS Ali Smart, to whom Ruby has taken a dislike for no rational reason, is sitting on the neighbour’s wall, making notes. In the park opposite, the rubberneckers are out in force, lining the route as if they’re about to watch a fun run or a cycle race. Several of them are clutching cups of takeaway coffee – the park café must be doing a roaring trade, Ruby thinks, curling her lip in disgust. Everyone seems to be busy but nothing is actually happening. It’s been like this for the past hour.
‘What’s going on?’ whispers Lewis, digging his hands into his pockets.
She shrugs. ‘Not sure.’
‘Nervous?’
‘Very. I hope I’ve remembered everything properly.’
When DS Smart asked her to detail the route she took last Saturday morning, Ruby struggled to disentangle the memory from the previous week. At first she told them that she’d gone to the farmers’ market stalls at the top end of the park, where she’d bought a wrap and a chocolate brownie. Then she sat on a bench and ate them, feeding a mouthful of brownie to Mabel. But when the police contacted the stallholder, he insisted he hadn’t been there last week. Suspicions were raised immediately and Ruby had to apologise for getting muddled. Even now, as she stands