Rose raps the heavy door-knocker once and the door is opened a moment later by Becky Iordanou, a slim, friendly woman with dark eyes and black hair in a ponytail.
‘Come on in,’ she says.
They follow her through to the kitchen. Becky must have been tidying up because the surfaces are all gleaming and the table neat. The three women talk in very low tones, with a constant ear for any movement from upstairs.
Gwen has been questioned at the property and Anton is back down at the station again.
‘She became hysterical when we brought up the bruises,’ says Becky. ‘Said it was unthinkable that we could suggest they’d harm Gregory. She got into such a state she started hyperventilating and took some time to be calmed down. She’s had to go and lie down for a bit.’
‘What’s your own feeling about these two?’ says Moony. ‘Having spent a bit of time with them now.’
Becky sighs and rubs her head thoughtfully. ‘Well,’ she says, ‘we all know what liars people are when their backs are against the wall. But, I don’t think she could have hurt the kid, to be honest.’
‘Hmm,’ murmurs Rose. ‘That was my instinct too.’
‘And him?’ says Moony. ‘Anton Fuller?’
Becky grimaces. ‘He’s not a very likeable man,’ she says quietly. ‘There’s no doubt who rules the roost here. But my gut tells me he hasn’t done anything to Gregory. He’s upset, but it’s almost as if he is quite embarrassed by all this as well.’
‘I thought that too,’ says Rose with distaste. ‘Perfect children don’t go missing or have illicit phones.’
There’s a squeaking of floorboards from above and a distinctive thump and rattle that suggests a toilet being flushed.
‘I’ll go see how she’s doing,’ says Becky. ‘And I’ll get the kettle on when I get back down. She hasn’t eaten at all but seems able to drink tea, which is something I guess.’
Moony lightly taps her fingers on the table. One of her many silver rings gently chimes against the wood. Rose has the feeling again of the odd sense of weight around them. It’s not about architecture; not walls and joists and roof tiles and floorboards. It’s something heavy and charged about the air here. A sense of something paused, waiting. Watchful, maybe.
A murmur of quiet voices outside and Gwen comes into the room, with Becky behind her. She looks understandably terrible, with red-rimmed eyes and greasy hair limp around her face. She’s in one of her shapeless dresses with a long purple cardigan, which she pulls around her large frame as if she is cold, despite the fact that the heating is on quite high in the room.
‘Hi, Gwen,’ says Rose, getting up. ‘This is my senior colleague, DS Sheila Moony.’
Moony gets up. Gwen holds out a limp hand and Moony, to Rose’s surprise, grasps it with both of hers.
‘I know this is a horrific experience,’ she says, firmly holding the other woman’s gaze, ‘but I want to reassure you we’re doing everything we can to return him home safely to you.’
Gwen’s eyes fill with tears. Rose has never seen Moony like this and to be frank, hadn’t realized she had the capacity to come across as so compassionate. She is a constant source of surprise.
‘Now then, Becky will make you a cup of tea,’ she says, gesturing to a chair and taking a seat herself. Gwen meekly sits, then worries at her pink nostrils with a crumpled cloth handkerchief.
‘Gwen,’ Moony continues, ‘I’d like to know what you know about the history of this house?’
Gwen gives her a startled look. ‘Why are you asking me that?’ she says. ‘What a funny question.’
‘It’s simply that we’re aware Gregory was very interested in this,’ says Moony patiently, ‘and we need to ascertain if it has anything to do with his disappearance. I can’t stress strongly enough that everything is worth sharing at this point. Anything at all that we can use towards getting your son back here. Do you understand? Even if it sounds strange or unusual to voice out loud. I know your husband doesn’t like you talking about these things but he isn’t here right now. You said something to my colleagues before Gregory disappeared about a poltergeist?’
Gwen nods once, lips pursed tightly in an attempt to stop the tears that are brimming on her lower lids.
Becky places a cup of tea in front of her and makes a cup-to-mouth gesture at Rose and Moony, who both nod their acceptance. Rose finds herself hoping some biscuits will appear.
Gwen sips at the tea, her large hands with their rough, red knuckles grasping the cup like a lifeline, her eyes cloudy and lost in thought. After she has taken another couple of sips, she places the cup on the table and looks up, as if steadied.
‘I never wanted to live in a house where such a terrible thing had happened,’ she says. ‘But Anton insisted it would be good for us. He doesn’t really get on with public transport, you see,’ she says, a little apologetically now. ‘He could cycle to Beamishes from here and the price was a bit lower than other houses in the area, maybe because of what had happened here.’
She takes another sip of tea. Wonderful Becky lays a plate crammed with Rich Tea biscuits on the table. Rose doesn’t need to worry about taking one too quickly, because Moony reaches for one first. Even Gwen picks one up but only places it by her cup without a single nibble.
‘You were saying?’ Rose prompts.
‘We could only afford it at all because Mummy died and left us quite a bit of money,’ says Gwen. ‘Before then we had been living in quite a grotty flat in Wood Green. Mummy owned a bit of a country pile in Suffolk that was my childhood home and it was a total money pit. But after it was sold to developers there was some left over, which I used to buy this. If I’d had my way, we’d be out somewhere nice in the countryside where the air is clean.’
Rose can all too easily imagine the way she was steamrollered by Anton on such a major life decision as where to live.
‘So you knew about what happened to the Doyle family,’ says Moony. ‘Have you ever had any contact with Heather Doyle directly?’
‘Certainly not,’ says Gwen with a shudder. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘Okay,’ says Moony. ‘Do you know anything about the house before that period? Say, in the Seventies?’
‘Not at all,’ says Gwen with a frown. ‘Look, are you saying that there is something else bad that happened here?’ She pulls her cardigan around herself even more tightly and looks around as though expecting a malevolent force to suddenly appear. ‘Is that why things happened to us?’
‘We’re simply trying to find out more about what Gregory said,’ says Rose in an emollient tone. ‘He talks about this “boy in the wall” and we wondered whether you have ever experienced anything like that yourself?’
Gwen looks stricken. ‘Not me,’ she says. ‘But Gregory told me once that this … boy told him to do things. He couldn’t remember whether he had done them or not.’
‘Didn’t you get a psychiatric assessment at that point?’ says Moony. ‘Surely that was a cause for concern?’
Gwen flushes and looks hunted. ‘Well, Anton …’ She catches herself. ‘We thought it was best not to encourage him about all that. It wouldn’t have been good for … for him.’
Not good for bloody Anton and bloody Beamishes, thinks Rose. Poor little kid, dealing with all this on his own. She experiences a sudden, cold pain in her stomach at the thought of him lying in bed, so small and frightened.
‘Did he ever say anything about what he thought this boy wanted?’ says Moony. ‘Or describe him in any way?’
‘No,’ says Gwen. ‘It wasn’t like that. We tried not to encourage it, you see. I wish I’d listened more now if you think it has a bearing on everything.’ She stops speaking abruptly. ‘Does it?’ she says. ‘Really?’
‘We don’t know,’ says Moony. ‘But we have to take absolutely everything into account to help us find him right now.’
They talk a little longer but Gwen’s eyelids are beginning to droop and she doesn’t seem to have anything of much use to tell them. Moony gets an urgent call and says she’ll take it outside.
Rose decides to have one more look around Gregory’s bedroom.
She climbs to the top of the house and turns a corner into the room then crosses to the window to look down on the rectangles of gardens below.
The heavy feeling presses in on her again but she forces herself to take slow, deep breaths. She walks over to Gregory’s desk in one corner of the room and opens the small cupboard to books and toys, neatly piled and no longer used.
It is as she is standing up again that it happens.
It’s like something is lifting her off her feet, which sends her slamming head first into the wall.