Saturday 3 May
Ruby rises early for breakfast, after a calm night’s sleep. She sits facing the window, at a table for one. The dining room looks like a throwback to Victorian times, with floral tablecloths, lace doilies and artificial roses gathering dust on the mantelpiece. She prefers modern interiors with no clutter, but produces a smile for the landlady when she appears from the kitchen. Ruby orders a full English, then sits back to watch the street come alive. When an Ocado van blocks her view, she wills it to vanish. She needs to complete her work soon. A long delay will make her easier to trace.
‘Did you have a nice time yesterday, dear?’ the landlady asks.
‘Great, thanks. I met up with an old friend. I’ve been admiring the lovely period details in your house this morning.’
‘Really? It looks commonplace to me.’
‘Not at all.’ Ruby smiles again. ‘The porch is typical of the era, like the sash windows and gables, full of style that modern homes lack. It’s incredibly well preserved, Iris.’
‘I’m so glad you’re enjoying your stay.’
The landlady finally leaves her in peace to enjoy her eggs, sausages and fried tomatoes. Ruby is surprised by her appetite. Last night’s events were unpleasant, but her dad taught her to separate feelings from facts. Denny Lang deserved to die for his disloyalty, even though he treated her like his favourite niece. She blinks away an image of his hands scrabbling at the window, unwilling to let it haunt her.
She applies herself to her meal, clearing half the plate before glancing outside again. When a brand-new Lexus pulls up outside number 7, she puts down her fork immediately. The driver is about fifty, with greying hair combed back from his tired face. Steve Pullen has probably been on another undercover job; the bastard will have lied his way into someone else’s confidence.
The cop’s wife is already waiting in the porch. All Ruby can see is a middle-aged man, several stones overweight, in a crumpled suit, yet Fiona Pullen looks delighted. She flings her arms round his neck before he’s put down his suitcase, then the couple disappear inside.
‘Bingo,’ Ruby mutters. ‘Welcome home, Steve.’
The landlady appears by her table. ‘Did you call me, dear?’
‘Just to thank you, Iris. Breakfast was delicious.’
‘How about some more tea?’
‘That would be great, if you don’t mind.’
When the old woman scurries away, Ruby memorises the registration number of Steve Pullen’s car, then relaxes in her chair. Now her chance has come, she can imagine the pleasure on her father’s face.