‘I think it’s important to get to know your neighbours,’ said Michelle, as she opened her dark blue front door and ushered Nancy inside.
Nancy looked around at a house that looked both familiar and unfamiliar. The two houses had been identical when they were built in the second half of the nineteenth century but Nancy shared number 99 with three other flats. Michelle and her husband lived in 101 alone.
‘There’s so much space,’ said Nancy wonderingly. ‘It makes me feel like I live in a little rabbit hutch.’
‘I know,’ said Michelle. ‘It’s unfair. When Dylan and I bought this place thirty years ago, we thought that we had finally found a bit of London where nobody wanted to live and then over the next few years prices doubled and then doubled again. I sometimes think of Harry and Olga and their baby all squeezed together in their flat.’
Nancy walked around the large front room, looking at the pictures on the wall, the books on shelves, the large sofas. It made her own existence seem chaotic and improvised. She thought of their packing cases and the possessions that she and Felix had haphazardly acquired before they met and pooled them. Everything in Michelle’s house looked like it had been bought for a reason and put in the place that was perfect for it. When she sat down at the table, she rubbed her hand along it. Michelle came through carrying a tray with coffee and two mugs and a small jug of milk.
‘I want all of this,’ said Nancy. ‘It makes me feel calm and safe.’
‘You can come here any time you want. Now that the children have gone, it feels like too much for just Dylan and me.’
‘Careful what you ask for. I might take you up on that.’
Michelle poured coffee from the cafetière, and Nancy took a cautious sip.
‘Just as a matter of interest,’ said Michelle casually, ‘I saw the police car parked outside yesterday. Do you know what they were here for?’
‘We called them,’ said Nancy.
‘Really? What about?’ She held up her hands before Nancy could reply. ‘Don’t tell me if you don’t want to. I don’t want to interfere. But if it was about Kira…’
‘They’d talked to the rest of the house, but they hadn’t talked to me. I thought they needed to.’
Michelle raised her finely shaped eyebrows. Nancy realised she sounded as if she had felt left out of all the drama.
‘I think they need to look into it a bit more,’ she added.
There was a silence. Michelle was frowning in puzzlement.
‘Why?’ Michelle asked at last. ‘Why should you think that? You never even met Kira.’
‘I did. Shortly before you all came round for drinks. On the street. She said some things to me.’
‘What things?’
‘She seemed in trouble. Or troubled.’
‘There you are then.’
‘Where are we?’
‘She seemed troubled and then she took her own life.’
‘I’m not sure she seemed depressed though.’
‘People who kill themselves don’t always seem depressed. They may not even be depressed.’
‘Are you a doctor?’
‘Not that kind of doctor. I’m an academic and psychology is my subject. Not exactly that kind of psychology. But I still can’t see why you needed to speak to the police.’
‘I just felt they should know.’ Nancy’s coffee was tepid. She pushed it away. ‘In case.’
‘In case what?’
‘Just in case.’ Nancy looked at Michelle with a new interest. ‘How well did you know Kira? Was she a friend?’
‘A friend? I don’t know about that. We met in the street, we said hello and chatted. She’s sat where you’re sitting and drunk from that cup.’
‘What was she like?’
‘She was a young woman who had arrived in London and was having fun. Maybe it all became too much for her.’
‘Did she have a partner?’
‘Nancy,’ said Michelle. ‘Do you think it’s a good idea for you to dwell on Kira?’
She picked up her mug and held it in both hands, looking at Nancy over its rim with her bright, clever eyes.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Dylan told me how upset you were.’
Nancy remembered the way he’d hauled her upstairs.
‘I’ve never seen a dead body before.’ Nancy suddenly noticed something about Michelle’s expression. ‘Has Felix been talking about me?’
‘How do you mean?’
Nancy felt a familiar tide of anger rise in her. Her cheeks burned.
‘What’s he said?’
‘Nothing really,’ said Michelle lightly. ‘Just that you’ve been having a difficult time. Was that the word?’
‘Yes,’ said a voice behind Nancy. She swung round, startled, to find Dylan standing right behind her. For a big man, he was remarkably quiet on his feet. ‘I think difficult was the word.’
Nancy put down her mug and stood up.
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Absolutely fine.’
‘Good,’ said Michelle soothingly. ‘But if there’s anything we can do to help you through this…’
‘Who else has he been talking to?’
‘It wasn’t like that. He just has your best interests at heart.’
‘Has he talked to everyone in the house?’
‘No need to get so het up,’ said Dylan cheerfully, and Nancy felt a spurt of pure hatred go through her.
Michelle frowned reprovingly at him, then put a hand on Nancy’s arm.
‘Don’t take any notice of my husband.’
‘I’ll let myself out,’ Nancy said.