Ellis Harper was sitting outside the Birdcage pub, a whisky glass perched on the table. It was a good people-watching spot, positioned on the corner of Columbia Road and Gosset Street and opposite a small park. Dog walkers, cyclists, joggers, all headed past in a variety of colourful gear. Judith had smiled at him from a distance of a few metres and held out her hand as she approached.
‘Is that Lagavulin?’ she asked, as she clambered onto the bench next to him, slipping on her sunglasses and pointing at his drink.
‘It is. You know your whisky then?’ Ellis picked up his glass and held it up, so the sun’s rays emphasised its amber tones.
‘A little. You can’t really mistake the odour of peat bog. I’m Judith Burton, in case you thought I was just some random woman with an unhealthy knowledge of whisky. Thank you for agreeing to meet.’
Ellis smiled. ‘Anything I can do to help,’ he said.
‘You don’t look like her,’ Judith said.
‘What?’
‘Rosie. You don’t look much like her.’ Judith shifted her glasses to the top of her head and squinted at him. ‘I suppose that’s not so surprising. I don’t resemble my sister, or at least I can’t see it.’
‘There you are then. Rosie got the brains. I got the looks.’
Judith laughed gently, her tinkling laugh, reserved for first encounters. ‘Although other people say they can see it, the resemblance.’ Judith looked around her. ‘What a fabulous pub,’ she said. ‘Your local?’
‘No. This is the closest to Ben…and Laura. That’s why I chose it.’
‘It’s very good of you to come and spend this time with your niece and nephew, provide them with support,’ Judith said.
‘My sister’s been killed. I couldn’t stay away.’
‘And Constance said you set up a meeting for her, with Ben. We’re very grateful.’
‘He wants to do his bit, to help his dad. I’m hoping you’re agreed that he doesn’t need to be a witness.’
‘We’re still not sure. I understand you have some concerns.’
‘He’s so young. They both are. And this is hard enough on them, without having to talk about things in public.’
‘Is that why you’ve stayed so long? Can your employer spare you all this time?’
‘I’m self-employed,’ Ellis replied, ‘which means I can stay around, to help Laura and Ben, as long as they need me.’
‘What do you do for work?’
‘Interior design. After the initial visit and measuring up, I do most of my work remotely. And I’m less than an hour away from most of my customers in Bucks anyway, if they really require the personal touch.’
‘But you’re staying here in London?’
‘At the house. At Rosie’s. Someone has to, now the police have finished with it. Otherwise who knows what might happen? Could get leaks or squatters even. And I suppose they’ll need help to sell it…eventually.’
‘Yes. I hadn’t thought of that. Were you and Rosie close?’
‘Is this an interview?’
Judith laughed, more full-throated this time. ‘Of course not. But every little bit of information helps.’
‘It doesn’t help Rosie.’
Judith waved to a young man collecting glasses and ordered two more whiskies, for herself and Ellis.
‘No, it doesn’t. So were you?’
Ellis shrugged. ‘My work took me overseas when I was younger and we lost touch.’
‘Overseas?’
‘Hong Kong.’
‘That must have been interesting.’
‘Sure, for a while. But it was good to come home too.’
‘Why did you go?’
‘I needed a change of scene. I’ve used things I learned out there too.’
‘I see. You know I’ve been thinking of sprucing up my apartment for a while and I love Oriental design. Maybe you could send me a few examples of your work. It will give me some ideas, if nothing else.’
‘Sure, no problem. I’ll choose a couple of the best.’
‘That’s very kind.’ Judith fished in her purse and handed Ellis a business card. He tucked it in the pocket of his jeans.
‘And when you returned from overseas, you saw more of Rosie?’
‘We were much closer, recently, as I was just up the road. And I love the kids; Ben and Laura. Rosie was so proud of them.’
‘Can I ask about your parents?’
‘Elaine is still local, living in Essex. She’s taking this so badly, but then how else would she? That’s also why I’m here. I go to visit her most days and it’s nearer. Dad passed away two years ago.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Unfortunately, the news about “Debbie” was out before he died. She didn’t even have enough respect to spare him that.’ Ellis sighed.
‘You don’t like Debbie much then?’ Judith said.
‘I should like the man who murdered my sister, caved her head in and then, what, coolly went off to run some football training?’
‘Before. You didn’t like her much before?’
‘Her, him. No. I didn’t like either of them very much. Rosie said that all people have two sides to their personality; their masculine and feminine sides – kind of yin and yang – and that Danny had spent forty years embracing one and now he wanted to devote time to the other.’
‘And what do you think about that?’
‘Total bollocks, that’s what I think. Look. He humiliated my sister, total and utter humiliation. Can you even begin to imagine what people were whispering behind their hands, and how embarrassing it was for her? He didn’t care. He wanted to flaunt himself around in stupid, skimpy clothes. But Rosie withstood all that. She shrugged it off and she was striding out on her own. But he couldn’t have that, could he? Total narcissist that he is. He couldn’t leave her alone. He had to come back and finish her off completely.’
‘You seem very certain.’
‘You don’t know him.’
‘The children don’t think that – Laura and Ben – and they know him.’
‘That’s because he’s brainwashed them.’
‘Is it right that they never liked Danny, your parents?’
‘Is that what he said?’ Ellis finished his whisky. ‘I don’t know what they really thought, but they always welcomed Danny, even though he was a bit of a lad, maybe not your first choice for your daughter, if you know what I mean. But Rosie had Dad wrapped around her little finger, so if she’d wanted to marry Hitler, he’d have probably given his blessing. It was only when he…when he dumped Rosie and went off with all this disgusting stuff…that’s when they told him what they thought. And I don’t blame them.’
‘No. You’ve made that very clear.’
‘Look, I didn’t say this to the other lawyer. I didn’t think it was right, when Ben was there. But Danny’s crying, saying how sorry he is that Rosie’s gone, how much he loved her. I’ve known him a few years, OK. So take it from me. Those tears you see. They’re all fake. He married her for the fame. It wasn’t enough for him to be a footballer. He used his celebrity status to find himself a really special wife. He never loved her. And he knew footballers’ careers were short and that he had to think to the next stage. It was all about what she could do for him.
‘And the photos they used to print of them gazing into each other’s eyes. Also fake. You watch him take a penalty, back in ‘96 or before. Even when he was in the youth team; he kept his cool. Most kids of that age are…what? Hot-headed, risk takers? Not him. And he’s the same now. He is…cold, emotionless, detached. Anything else is false, what he thinks the public wants to see, expects to see. That’s why he was rubbish as a coach. Sure, he was a skilful player, one of the best in the world, but he has no heart.’