Chapter 18

Juliet resisted the temptation to fix a third Bloody Mary. She remembered she’d meant to call Katrin and looked at her watch. 9 p.m. Not too late.

Katrin took a while to answer: so long that Juliet debated whether to abandon the call before she woke the baby.

“Hello?” The voice at the other end of the phone sounded hoarse and groggy.

“Katrin? Is that you? It doesn’t sound like you.” Juliet regretted this observation immediately. Katrin sounded as if she’d been crying.

“Yes, of course it’s me.” Katrin’s false little laugh was unconvincing. “Who did you think it might be?”

“Are you OK?”

“Yes, just a bit tired after my first day back. And I had a rather strange visitor, which put me off my stroke a bit.”

Juliet noted that she didn’t mention Tim.

“Are you all right, anyway?” Katrin continued, making the question sound like a challenge. “You seemed pretty down when I saw you today.”

“I’m fine. Just wondering what I’m doing with my life, that sort of thing,” said Juliet lightly.

“Join the club!” said Katrin with feeling. As if afraid she’d been disloyal, she added, “Missing Tim, probably.”

“He’s such high maintenance, I’m surprised you aren’t enjoying a few days without him.”

They both laughed.

“Did you have a reason for calling? Not that it’s not nice to talk with you.”

“Yes. I meant to call you before you left the office this afternoon. I’ve spoken to the woman I mentioned in Peterborough, the one in social services who’s helped girls whose families have tried to force them into arranged marriages. She says she can see you tomorrow morning. Apparently she’s away for the rest of the week. I said I’d ask you. I realise it may be too short notice. Is tomorrow one of the days you’re working?”

“Not supposed to be, but I agreed that I’d be flexible. Sophia can probably go to the childminder again tomorrow. I’ll have to check, but the childminder’s not fully booked up at the moment.”

“Don’t do anything you can’t cope with. If you think Sophia needs to be at home tomorrow, I’ll understand.”

“Waiting until next week’s not really on, is it? If this woman’s going to give us some clues about Ayesha Verma’s state of mind, I’ll need to talk to her as soon as possible. Where does she want to meet? In Peterborough?”

“Actually, she said she could come to see you tomorrow. She’s got a lunchtime meeting in Boston, apparently, and can make a detour.”

“Even better. Let me call Mrs Sims. I’ll let you know, either way. Shall I text you?”

“If you want to, but you can call again if you like. I’m completely at a loose end this evening.”