‘Somehow I can’t imagine a few facts getting in the way of a good story.’

‘Is it?’

‘Is it what?’

‘A good story,’ he said.

While she walked Mona raised the plastic cup to her lips and blew across the surface of the coffee before taking a few fast sips. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s a very boring one.’

Gradually they were leaving the crowds behind and moving into the less populated part of the fairground. The noise levels began to drop, distant rattles merging with the tinkling of the music. They left the bright lights and moved into the gloom. Eventually they reached a perimeter wall where there was nothing more than a few shabby caravans, a scattering of metal and some long coiling cables that snaked back towards the centre of the fair.

‘So,’ she said, turning to look at him. ‘What’s on your mind exactly?’

‘You were going to explain why you’re using a false name.’

‘Why not? If you were Paul Farrell’s daughter, you’d hardly want to advertise the fact. I like to be my own person. It’s easier that way.’

‘You don’t get on?’

‘You could say that.’

‘Does he know you’re here?’

Mona scowled at him again. ‘I’m twenty-three. It’s none of his business where I am or what I do.’

Royston decided to go for it. Some opportunities only came around once in a lifetime and you had to grab them with both hands. ‘Oh, come on. You might have fooled the rest of them but you don’t fool me.’

Her eyes widened a little. ‘I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.’

‘Sure you do. You’re up to your necks in it, you and Sadie. Why else are you in Haverlea?’ Royston had no real idea where he was going with this; he was just following his instincts and hoping she’d believe he was more in the loop than he actually was. ‘I know all about Eddie Wise.’

Mona visibly flinched, but then quickly shook her head. ‘Eddie? What about him? You’ve lost me.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘And how do you figure that out?’

Royston had Emily Hunter’s party in the back of his mind, where Mona had been talking about fairgrounds and films. There was something niggling, a possible connection he still couldn’t grasp. ‘It’s obvious,’ he said. ‘Do I need to spell it out for you?’

‘You don’t know anything,’ she said smugly.

‘Anne Faulkner,’ he retorted quickly. ‘Now where have I heard that name before?’

Mona’s expression showed that he’d hit home. The smile that had been playing on her lips immediately disappeared. ‘You’re just pathetic, a grubby little journalist with a sewer for brains.’

‘Sometimes you need a sewer when you’re dealing with shit.’

She came up close to him, her eyes blazing. ‘You’re disgusting. You know that?’

‘I might be disgusting but at least I’m not —’

Royston never got the chance to finish his retort. Although aware of the sudden action, of the girl drawing back her arm, it was too late to dodge out of the way. As the hot coffee splashed all over his face he squealed out in pain.

‘Bitch!’ he yelped. ‘Fuckin’ bitch!’

With his eyes tightly closed he reeled back and stumbled, falling to his knees. He bent his head and covered his face with his hands, clawing at the burning flesh. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The crazy bitch had blinded him! Frantically, he tried to rub off the hot liquid. He needed cold water. Where was the water? He needed…

Royston was in too much agony to register the movement behind him. Beyond the sound of his own groans, his own agonising pain, nothing else existed. The blow, when it came, sent him sprawling across the concrete. With his nose pressed against the ground, he was faintly aware of the sweet smell of popcorn. A thumping raged inside his head and then there was only blackness.

47

It was a quarter to eight when Sadie arrived at the fair. She stopped by the turnstile, almost having second thoughts, but then a group of girls came up behind her and she had no choice but to push on through. Instantly she was aware of stepping into a different world. Gone was the calm, quiet order of the promenade, replaced by an almost physical assault on the senses, a swirling world of colour, sound and movement. Even the air smelled different.

She passed a candyfloss stall, the floss like sweet pink cotton wool, and walked on to the carousel with its distinctive barrel-organ music. The ride, probably viewed as too childish by the predominantly teenage crowd, was almost empty. There was something eerie about the painted horses going round on their own, their wide eyes staring into the dark. She gazed at them for a while, remembering the part in Strangers on a Train where Bruno rides on the carousel, watching his intended victim.

Sadie shuddered and turned away. She didn’t want to think about it, but suddenly it was all she could think about. Bruno had gone on to commit murder, to put his hands around Miriam’s throat and squeeze the life out of her. Bruno had been mad, sick in the head, obsessed with death – or, to be more precise, the death of his father. Just like Mona, she thought. It wasn’t hard to see why the girl identified so closely with the character.

As she walked on, Sadie breathed in the cool night air. Her heart was already starting to beat faster. How would Mona react when she told her straight that she wasn’t going to do it? There would be no journey to Hampstead, no hiding in the garden, no shooting of her father. And anyway, there was no longer a gun to do the shooting with.

Her thoughts took a sideways shift as she wondered again if Nathan Stone had got rid of the Beretta. Her fingerprints must be all over it. But he’d wipe it clean first, wouldn’t he? Just in case it was found. She was relying on him, but that might not be the smartest move. Still, there was nothing she could do about it now.

Sadie went past the Hall of Mirrors where groups of girls nervously giggled at their distorted reflections – fat, thin, tall, small – while probably adding to whatever neuroses they already had about their body shape. She could clearly recall hanging around the fair when she was younger, wanting to be cool but knowing that she wasn’t. She’d always had the wrong clothes, the wrong face, the wrong attitude. She’d been awkward and defensive, uncomfortable in her own skin. The boys’ eyes would roam over her, linger for a second and then quickly move on.

Sadie felt a rush of sympathy for that somewhat tragic adolescent version of herself. It was only when she’d gone to London that she’d found her confidence. Suddenly she was no longer a shy, cautious girl afraid of her own shadows; she had blossomed into someone who actually believed in herself. And then she’d met Eddie…

The thought dragged her back to the present. In her head, she went over what she was going to say to Mona. She had to be firm, determined. She had to hold her ground. And if Mona threatened to tell Joel or go to the police? Then she had to call her bluff – and act as though she meant it.

The Big Wheel loomed over the fair, a glittering circle of flashing lights. As she approached, Sadie looked around for Mona but couldn’t spot her. She glanced down at her watch and saw that it was now five to eight. She was early but only just. While she waited she tried to prepare herself. The problem was that it all felt so hopeless. Nothing could change what had already happened; Eddie’s murder couldn’t be undone and it would haunt her for the rest of her life.

The minutes ticked by. Eight o’clock came and went and there was still no sign of Mona. Sadie began to pace impatiently; now she was here she wanted it over and done with. Where was she? What was she playing at? Maybe she’d changed her mind, but somehow that didn’t seem likely. She wouldn’t have come all the way to Haverlea to back out at the last moment.