“Yes, she went with Jasmine, a Jamaican girl from the Boar Lane branch. Of course, nothing happened. I think she might have tried some drugs, though.”

“Why? What did she say?”

“She just hinted and did that, you know, that knowing sort of thing with her eyes, like she’d been there and the rest of us had only seen it on television. She can be quite unnerving like that, can Lucy.”

“Was there anything else?”

“Yes.” Once Pat was in full flow, it seemed there was no stopping her. “She once told me she’d acted as a prostitute.”

“She’d what?”

“It’s true.” Pat looked around to make sure no one was interested and lowered her voice even more. “It was over a couple of years ago, before Terry came on the scene. We’d talked about it in a pub one night when we saw one – you know, a prostitute – wondering what it would be like and all, doing it for money, just as a bit of a laugh, really. Lucy said she’d like to try it and find out and she’d let us know.”

“Did she?”

“Uh-huh. That’s what she told me. About a week later, she said the night before she’d put on some slutty clothes – fishnet tights, high heels, a black leather miniskirt and a low-cut blouse and she sat at the bar of one of those business hotels near the motorway. It didn’t take long, she said, before a man approached her.”

“Did she tell you what happened?”

“Not all the details. She knows when to hold back, does Lucy. For effect, like. But she said they talked, very business-like and polite and all that, and they came to some financial arrangement, then they went up to his room and… and they did it.”

“Did you believe her?”

“Not at first. I mean, it’s outrageous, isn’t it? But…”

“Eventually you did?”

“Well, like I said, Lucy’s always capable of surprising you, and she likes danger, excitement. I suppose it was when she showed me the money that tipped the balance.”

“She showed you?”

“Yes. Two hundred pounds.”

“She could have got it out of the bank.”

“She could, but… Anyway, that’s all I know about it.”

Jenny made some more notes. Pat tilted her head to see what she was writing. “It must be a fascinating job, yours,” she said.

“It has its moments.”

“Just like that woman who used to be on television. Prime Suspect.”

“I’m not a policewoman, Pat. Just a consultant psychologist.”

Pat wrinkled her nose. “Still, it’s an exciting life, isn’t it? Catching criminals and all that.”

Excitement wasn’t the first word that came to Jenny’s mind, but she decided to leave Pat to her illusions. Like most people’s, they wouldn’t do her any real harm. “What about after Lucy met Terry?”

“She changed. But then you do, don’t you? Otherwise what’s the point of getting married? If it doesn’t change you, I mean.”

“I see your point. How did she change?”

“She became a lot more reserved. Stopped home more. Terry’s a bit of a homebody, so there was no more clubbing. He’s the jealous type, too, is Terry, if you know what I mean, so she had to watch herself chatting up the lads. Not that she did that after they were married. It was Terry, Terry, Terry all the way then.”

“Were they in love?”

“I’d say. Dotty about each other. At least that’s what she said, and she seemed happy. Mostly.”

“Let’s back up a bit. Were you there when they met?”

“She says so, but I can’t for the life of me remember them meeting.”

“When was it?”

“Nearly two years ago. July. A warm, muggy night. We were at a girls’ night out at a pub in Seacroft. One of those really big places with lots of rooms and dancing.”

“How do you remember it?”

“I remember Lucy leaving alone. She said she hadn’t enough money for a taxi and she didn’t want to miss her bus. They don’t run late. I’d had a few drinks, but I remember because I said something about her being careful. The Seacroft Rapist was active around then.”

“What did she say?”

“She just gave me that look and left.”

“Did you see Terry there that night? Did you see him chatting her up?”

“I think I saw him there, by himself at the bar, but I don’t remember seeing them talking.”

“What did Lucy say later?”

“That she’d talked to him when she went to the bar for drinks once and quite liked the look of him, then they met again on her way out and went to some other pub together. I can’t remember. I was definitely a bit squiffy. Anyway, whatever happened, that was it. From then on it was a different Lucy. She didn’t have anywhere near enough time for her old friends.”

“Did you ever visit them? Go for dinner?”

“A couple of times, with my fiancé, Steve. We got engaged a year ago.” She held up her ring. The diamond caught the light and flashed. “We’re getting married in August. We’ve already booked the honeymoon. We’re going to Rhodes.”

“Did you get along with Terry okay?”

Pat gave a little shudder. “No. I don’t like him. Never did. Steve thought he was all right, but… That’s why we stopped going over, really. There’s just something about him… And Lucy, she was sort of like a zombie when he was around. Either that or she acted like she was on drugs.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just a figure of speech. I mean, I know she wasn’t really on drugs, but just, you know, overexcited, talking too much, mind jumping all over the place.”

“Did you ever see any signs of abuse?”

“You mean did he hit her and stuff?”

“Yes.”

“No. Nothing. I never saw any bruises or anything like that.”

“Did Lucy seem to change in any way?”

“What do you mean?”

“Recently. Did she become more withdrawn, seem afraid of anything?”

Pat chewed on her the edge of her thumb for a moment before answering. “She changed a bit the past few months, now you come to mention it,” she said finally. “I can’t say exactly when it started, but she seemed more nervy, more distracted, as if she had a problem, a lot on her mind.”

“Did she confide in you?”

“No. We’d drifted apart quite a bit by then. Was he really beating her? I can’t understand it, can you, how a woman, especially a woman like Lucy, can let that happen?”

Jenny could, but there was no point trying to convince Pat. If Lucy sensed that would be her old friend’s attitude toward her problem, it was no surprise that she turned to a neighbor like Maggie Forrest, who at least showed empathy.

“Did Lucy ever talk about her past, her childhood?”

Pat looked at her watch. “No. All I know is that she’s from somewhere near Hull and it was a pretty dull life. She couldn’t wait to get away, and she didn’t keep in touch as much as she should, especially after Terry came on the scene. Look, I really have to get back now. I hope I’ve been of help.” She stood up.

Jenny stood and shook her hand. “Thanks. Yes, you’ve been very helpful.” As she watched Pat scurry back to the bank, Jenny looked at her watch, too. She had enough time to drive out to Hull and see what Lucy’s parents had to say.

It was several days since Banks had last stopped in at his Eastvale office, and the amount of accumulated paperwork was staggering, since he had temporarily inherited Detective Superintendent Gristhorpe’s workload. Consequently, when he did find time to drop by the station late that afternoon, driving straight back after his interview with Geoff Brighouse, his pigeonhole was stuffed with reports, budget revisions, memos, requests, telephone message slips, crime statistics and various circulars awaiting his signature. He decided to clear up some of the backlog of paperwork and take Annie Cabbot for a quick drink at the Queen’s Arms to discuss her progress in the Janet Taylor investigation, and maybe build a few bridges in the process.

After leaving a message for Annie to drop by his office at six o’clock, Banks closed the door behind him and dropped the pile of papers on his desk. He hadn’t even changed his Dalesman calendar from April to May, he noticed, flipping over from a photo of the stone bridge at Linton to the soaring lines of York Minster’s east window, pink and white may blossom blurred in the foreground.