Part 6 (2/2)

After that the pages hadn't been written on. Instead they'd been filled with flowers and hearts and sketches of a girl Lorne herself, presumably dressed in bikinis and high-heeled boots. Zoe flicked through the remaining pages. There was nothing else of any interest. She closed the diary, and as she did, she noticed a small pocket on the back. When she inserted her nail she found a tiny object in there. An eight-milligram camera chip.

She sorted around on the desk until she found the camera it belonged to, plugged in the chip and began clicking through the photos. Lorne was pictured here, right in this bedroom. From the awkward position it looked as though she'd taken them herself using an automatic timer. In the first three she was dressed in a bikini standing full length. But it was the fourth and subsequent shots that made Zoe sit down on the bed, dismayed. Lorne appeared dressed in suspenders, stockings and a basque, poised coquettishly on the floor, legs crossed. In the last two she had taken the basque off and was looking provocatively into the camera, her tongue held lightly at her glossed lips.

Zoe clicked through them twice, a huge wave of sadness coming over her. Why would a nice middle-cla.s.s girl like Lorne do something like that? Lots of reasons, of course maybe it was nothing more sinister than an impressionable schoolgirl trying to ease herself into her own s.e.xuality. Or maybe to impress a boyfriend. But it could also be nastier than that. An old ghost came to Zoe then, going pitter-patter around the corners of her mind thinking that it could be because Lorne had learned to dislike herself early. Maybe when she realized her brother was the star in their mother's eyes she'd begun struggling to find a way to escape. Zoe knew what that felt like. Maybe that was what these photos were about.

Outside, the noise of Mr Wood's chainsaw cut through the silence. She took the card out of the camera and held it in the palm of her hand, trying to decide if the photos were important the portal to a whole separate side of Lorne that no one was mentioning. Whether they were connected to her modelling dream and just how desperate she had been to make that dream come true. No, she told herself, probably lots of teenage girls had photos of themselves like this, hidden somewhere from Mum and Dad. It would be better just to leave them in the diary, taped out of sight, never to be seen again. Or destroy the chip.

Or treat it as an investigative lead.

She raised her eyes to the window, saw the frondy leaves of a silver birch moving gently against the blue sky. Some time pa.s.sed. Thirty seconds. A minute. Then she got to her feet and shoved the card into her back jeans pocket. 'Sorry, Lorne,' she murmured. 'But I'm not sure. Not yet.'

16.

Downstairs in the conservatory, Pippa was sitting with the liaison officer. She had a diary open on her lap and seemed to be going through her plans for the next month or so. Maybe they were discussing funerals, press conferences. Outside, Mr Wood was still thras.h.i.+ng the life out of the tree. When Pippa heard Zoe come down she stopped talking. She closed the book and came through into the hallway. 'All finished?'

'Just one or two questions.'

'That's OK. I want to help.'

'Lorne had a big circle of friends?'

'A big circle? Oh, G.o.d, yes. I couldn't keep up with it. From the moment she hit fifteen and I gave her a phone and keys to the house I only ever saw her when she brought people back here. They're a nightmare, teenagers, absolute nightmare. Sometimes you just want to crawl under a ...' She trailed off. As if it had just dawned on her that there'd never be another teenager to make her life a misery. 'Yes, well ...' She rubbed her arms convulsively and glanced back at the kitchen. 'Yes. Anyway, did you want some more coffee?'

'That's OK,' Zoe said gently. 'I've had enough to send me to the moon and back. Can I ask you, though, about her friends? Were they mostly from the school?'

'No.' Pippa shook her head. 'No, not really. They were from all over. She was always talking to people. And I think with the way she looked she she had lots of boys who recognized her. I don't know where she gets it from not me, that's for sure.'

'But not one special boyfriend?'

'No.'

'Can I ask you the million-dollar question?'

'What? Was she a virgin? Is that it?'

'Someone's going to have to ask it eventually. It's not that she's in the defence stand here. It's just that we need to build a better picture.'

'Yes, I know. I've already been told by the-' She glanced back to where the liaison officer was sitting, studying his laptop. 'I know it's an important question. He said it would be, said it could be relevant.' She put her finger to her forehead and kept it there, as if she was concentrating very hard on something. Like keeping her balance. 'I don't know, is the honest truth. If you wanted me to put money on it I'd say no. But please don't tell other people that. I don't want it gossiped about.'

'You don't remember anyone with the initials ”RH”, do you?'

'No. Doesn't ring any bells. Why?'

'Just wondering. What about the name Zeb Juice? Does that mean anything to you?'

Pippa gave an exasperated sigh. 'Yes, I'm afraid so. Zebedee Juice. It's an agency in George Street.'

'An agency?'

'Modelling. I told you Lorne was under the impression she'd be the next Kate Moss, so when the agency agreed to see her I was worried very worried. As you can imagine.'

'What sort of modelling do they deal with?'

'What sort? Well I don't know. The usual, of course. Fas.h.i.+ony stuff. Catwalk.'

So not the kind of modelling in the pictures. Zoe felt better to hear that. 'What happened when she went to the agency?'

'They told her she wasn't tall enough. They weren't interested, thank G.o.d.'

'You were pleased?'

'Of course I was pleased.' Pippa sounded faintly annoyed. 'What mother wouldn't be? It was a ridiculous dream.'

Zoe didn't answer that. Outside the conservatory four magpies had appeared on the lawn and were hopping around, making feints at each other. One for sorrow, two for joy. Three for a girl, four for a boy One for sorrow, two for joy. Three for a girl, four for a boy. She could still see the big brother outside, sitting awkwardly on the bench. The one who'd got it all right in his mother's eyes.

'Is that all? Is that all you need?'

'For the time being. Yes, it is. Thank you.'

She felt in her pocket for her car keys and was halfway out of the door when Pippa said suddenly, 'I was at school with you, wasn't I?'

Zoe turned back slowly. 'I didn't like to point it out.'

'You were good at games and you were clever. Really clever. You used to win all the quizzes. Did you go to university? Everyone said you would.'

'University? No. I dropped out. Travelled the world and ended up back here. Broke my father's back financially, putting me and my sister through school, and look what I did to repay him.' She gave a rueful smile. 'Went into the cops.'

'I didn't know you had a sister.'

'No,' she said slowly. 'She went to a different school softer than the one we were at. The sort that turns out good wives.'

'How come you went to different schools?'

'Oh, you know,' she said evasively. 'We couldn't get on somehow. Like you said amazing how you combine the same genes and get two totally different people.'

'And you?' Pippa said. 'How about you? Did you have children?'

'No.'

Pippa took a breath to reply and in that second, in the slight pause, Zoe saw the cracks. The human being in there. As if the terrified Pippa Wood, the one who wouldn't know where to begin or end dealing with this horror, had peeped out of her eyes. It was a flash, just a fleeting moment, a panicked, screaming Pica.s.so face, a terror that Zoe was going to answer, Oh, yes. I have a beautiful daughter. Just like Lorne. Except mine's alive Oh, yes. I have a beautiful daughter. Just like Lorne. Except mine's alive. It was basic human envy the envy that the sick, the grieving and the old have for the young and the healthy. And the living. Then the look was gone, and the calm mask was back.

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