Amy pressed the large, old-fashioned cream ceramic doorbell. Although she heard no sound, the black door immediately opened, fractionally at first, then wider. Erik stepped out.
“Amy,” Erik said, making an attempt at a smile. He still looked grave, his green eyes piercing hers. “Please come in.” He ushered her over the threshold.
She found herself alone with him in a shabby corridor, barely decorated with peeling white paint. There was a pink plush carpet which appeared to have been roughly hacked to fit the space available. Ahead, bare wooden stairs led upwards. To either side was a panelled oak door. Erik pushed open the left hand one, revealing a large living space with a sofa and other furniture. Everything was of good quality but mismatched. The pink carpet in this room did not quite stretch as far as the walls, revealing grey lino in the gaps. A blanket covered the front window, extinguishing any stray shafts of sunlight that might have filtered into the courtyard outside. Above, a bare light bulb illuminated the room.
“It’s not homely like your flat,” he apologised.
“It’s ten times as large,” Amy said. It was as clean and tidy too. As in Kat’s room in Fitzrovia, books were neatly stacked on shelves free of dust, and cut flowers arranged in a vase. She scrutinised Erik. Looking closer now, she noticed the family resemblance. He had Kat’s green eyes and slightly long nose. Even so, she could see from the lines at his mouth and forehead that he had a different personality from his sister. Erik was watchful and serious where Kat was happy-go-lucky.
“Do you take tea?” Erik asked. “It’s all I can offer you, I’m afraid. I was about to make a cup for Kat.”
“Where is she?” Amy asked.
Erik pointed to the ceiling. “She has a room upstairs. I rent the whole property from Marty Bridges, so there’s more than enough space for both of us.”
“Marty?” Amy was stunned. “He said he hadn’t seen you for years.”
Erik grinned. “He may have told you he hadn’t seen Kat for years. He certainly doesn’t know she’s here. But he would suspect she and I were in contact, I believe.” He added, “Marty called me earlier with a long story about Kat being chased by gangsters – and also by you.”
“I need to warn her,” Amy said. “Please let me see her.”
“When we’ve talked,” Erik replied. “I can warn her if I have to. But I want to understand first why she’s running away and won’t talk to the police.”
“Marty’s told you Kat’s in danger,” Amy said. “Do you appreciate how much? She knows a man called Jeb. He tried to murder Lizzie Clements, and he’ll kill Kat if he can. She owes his friends money.” Amy didn’t want to say more. She only had the knifeman’s word that Kat was a thief. “We’ve got to call the police,” she finished.
“That’s the last thing my sister wants to do,” Erik said. “According to her, Jeb is a friend who helped her out when she needed money. I’m not so sure. There were strings attached.”
“Like marrying illegal immigrants?”
“Precisely,” Erik said. “She has admitted to that. Jeb gave her a thousand pounds a time. I understand the police will take a dim view, although I don’t see why they should care. It’s a victimless crime. She’s staying here until she works out what to do.”
“Hardly victimless, Erik. Kat stole my identity to marry one of them,” Amy retorted.
“That, she did not say.” His green eyes were kind, concerned. “You think Jeb is a murderer,” he said. “What makes you so sure?”
“Almost too much,” Amy replied. “They found a knife with Jeb’s fingerprint in Lizzie Clements’ flat. A friend of his held a knife to my throat in London and came looking for Kat here. These people live in a darker world than you or I.” She remembered then that his parents had died in a foreign prison, and regretted her words.
“You must persuade my sister,” Erik said.
They heard footsteps and Kat waltzed into the room, looking as glamorous and carefree as ever. She was wearing a jade silk kimono, a garment Amy had often seen when they both rose languorously on a Saturday morning. “It’s so lovely to see you, Amy,” she breathed, air-kissing Amy in a cloud of perfume.
“Kat,” Erik said, “you must listen to Amy. She has bad news about Lizzie, and Jeb is involved. Also, if what Amy says is true, you have abused her trust and you owe her an apology.” He glanced at his sister expectantly.
“I didn’t think it was illegal to marry someone,” Kat said.
“But to use another woman’s name?” Erik asked.
Kat shrugged. “Surely it isn’t a big deal? You weren’t going to marry anyone else soon.”
Momentarily, Amy was lost for words. “Nor was Bronwen, I suppose,” she said, seeing from Kat’s eyes that she was right.
Kat clearly realised she’d overstepped the mark. “Amy, we’re all young girls,” she said hastily, “enjoying ourselves before we settle down. Who says any of us are the marrying kind?”
Their conversation was interrupted by the strains of Thriller deep within Amy’s handbag. She fished out the phone, and saw it was Ross calling.