‘Who was that?’

Bella Fisk’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t see why you’d want to know.’

‘Was it Veronica Ellison?’ asked Frieda.

‘You know already, so why ask me?’

‘She was upset.’

‘Only until she hooked up with Al.’

‘Al.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘You mean Al Williams?’

‘You’re beginning to spook me a bit. What are you looking for? Why does it matter any more? Nothing’s going to bring him back.’

‘Just some answers,’ said Frieda. Her brain was working furiously. Veronica had been with Sandy, then with Al. Al was married to Bridget, who had been one of Sandy’s closest friends and the person he turned to when in difficulty. What did it mean? And did Bridget know? She remembered when she’d first seen both Bridget and Al, at the party in memory of Sandy, and how they had both comforted Veronica after her little speech. But Bella was talking and she forced her attention back towards her. She was saying something about the small world of academia and how incestuous it could feel: her with Sandy, Veronica with Sandy, Veronica with Al …

And then she stopped because the door had opened. A man walked in, wearing black jeans and a leather jacket. He nodded at Bella and came over and sat at the table. Bella introduced him.

‘This is Carla,’ she said. ‘She used to be a friend of Sandy’s. I told you about Sandy.’

He shook Frieda’s hand. It was almost enclosed by his. ‘It’s the first time I’ve known anyone who was murdered.’

‘Did you know Sandy?’

‘Well, I know someone who knew him.’

‘You make it sound like it’s funny,’ said Bella, and she got up and walked through a door at the back of the room.

‘Sensitive subject,’ said Tom, watching her go. He turned back and looked at Frieda with interest. ‘Bella mentioned Sandy, but she never mentioned you.’

‘This is the first time we’ve met.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’d lost touch with Sandy. I wanted to meet someone who’d worked with him.’

‘So what do you do, Carla?’

‘I’ve been working as a nanny.’

‘Is that fulfilling?’

‘It’s a temporary thing.’

‘Interesting,’ said Tom. ‘Now then, Carla, would you like to meet for a drink some time?’ He asked her as though he were offering her a bag of crisps.

Frieda couldn’t stop herself turning in the direction Bella had gone. Did it make sense to feel hurt and protective on behalf of someone she didn’t know? ‘Er, we’re having a coffee now,’ she said, carefully.

‘You know. A drink.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘It never hurts to ask,’ said Tom, cheerfully. ‘Win some, lose some.’

‘Bella left the room about thirty seconds ago.’

‘Oh, Bella?’ Tom looked as if he had entirely forgotten her. ‘That’s just a thing.’

There didn’t seem anything left to say. Tom went over to the counter and bought a large cappuccino. He and Bella returned to the table together. Tom sat back, drank his coffee and gazed benignly at Bella and Frieda as if they were two old friends. Frieda just wanted to get away, but there was one more question she needed to ask.

‘Did Sandy seem at all nervous? Scared, even?’

‘Why would he be scared?’ said Tom.

‘He was murdered,’ said Frieda. ‘And I was asking Bella.’

‘But why are you asking?’

‘He was a friend. I’m concerned.’

‘Bit late for that,’ said Tom.

‘I know,’ said Frieda, getting up.

‘He seemed fine,’ said Bella, quickly. ‘He was working hard. But he was all right.’

‘I’ll pay for this,’ said Frieda.

‘I already paid,’ said Tom. ‘You can pay the next time.’

Frieda was getting used to hanging around playgrounds. This one was in Parliament Hill Fields, by the running track. Frieda could see her, pushing a toddler on the swing. There were too many people around and this time there was no hiding her identity. They moved to the roundabout. Frieda looked at her phone. There was another message from Josef. She’d deal with that later. How long were they going to be? Finally the pair emerged from the playground and made their way along the railings, then to the left, across the railway bridge. Frieda shadowed them and when they reached the street she saw that there was nobody around. She walked quickly up and touched the woman on the shoulder. She looked round.

‘Kim,’ she said.

Kim’s expression moved from shock to bafflement. ‘Frieda?’ she said. ‘What on earth …’ And then the bafflement turned to outrage. ‘How did you even find me here?’

‘Lizzie told me where you’d be,’ said Frieda.

‘She wouldn’t talk to you.’

‘I didn’t say it was me.’

‘Are you crazy? Are you completely fucking crazy?’ She took her phone from her pocket. ‘I’m calling the fucking police.’

‘Wait,’ said Frieda.

‘Why?’

Kim was holding the little boy by the hand. He wore a blue T-shirt with a space rocket on it. Frieda knelt down, so that they were face to face. ‘What’s your name?’ she said softly.

‘Robbie,’ he said.

‘Hello, Robbie. I’m just going to talk to Kim for one minute, OK?’ She stood back up. ‘Did Lizzie know about you?’

Kim’s eyes flickered. ‘What do you mean, about me?’

‘About you and Sandy, when you were working for her.’

‘You bitch.’

‘Put the phone away, Kim. I want to talk to you for one minute and then I’ll go. But if you won’t talk to me, I’ll have to talk to someone.’ Frieda put her hand on Kim’s shoulder. ‘Look at me, Kim. I’m someone who has nothing to lose. You need to believe that. But if you answer my questions, I’ll go. Do you understand?’

‘It didn’t mean anything.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘It just happened.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It was after you’d split up.’

‘How long did it last?’

Kim looked surprised. ‘Last? We only did it twice. Well, once, really. The first time he couldn’t properly –’

‘I don’t need to hear that. How did it end?’

Kim’s face had gone very red. ‘It was stupid. I had a crush on him and we both knew it was a mistake. He wasn’t in a good place.’

‘Was he frightened?’

‘Frightened? No. He was just a bit down. He was nice in a way. He apologized. But you don’t really want to be apologized to when you’re both, you know …’

‘Who knew?’

‘Why would anyone know? I just felt I’d been stupid.’ Kim looked down at Robbie, who was weighing on her arm. ‘I didn’t think he would talk about it, but he must have told you.’

‘Sandy didn’t tell me.’

‘You mean he told someone else?’

‘What about friends?’ said Frieda. ‘Boyfriends?’

‘It wasn’t something I wanted to talk about.’

‘All right,’ said Frieda. ‘That’s all.’

She turned to go, but Kim put a hand on her arm. ‘Wait, can I ask you something?’

‘What?’

‘What are you up to?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Frieda. ‘One thing led to another.’

It wasn’t until the evening that Frieda got the letter that Karlsson had written to her. She called Josef and he said – in a loud whisper – that he would meet her at her place as soon as he could get away. She could hear loud bangs and people shouting.

When she got back to the house, Mira was cutting Ileana’s hair. Dark wet locks lay over the kitchen floor. There were two mugs of tea on the table, and the atmosphere was peaceable. Frieda put the milk she had bought in the fridge and then unpacked supplies: tea bags, coffee, cleaning stuff. ‘That looks good.’

Mira snipped her scissors in the air beside Ileana’s ear. ‘You next.’

‘I don’t think so. My hair is short enough.’

‘Not shorter. Just more style. Layers.’ She pointed the blades at Frieda. ‘Choppy.’

‘It’s very kind of you but –’

‘You buy food for us. We would like to make a return. It makes us feel better.’

Frieda was about to refuse once more, but what Mira said stopped her. Reuben always told her how bad she was at accepting gifts, asking for help, and it was true. Everyone wants reciprocity.