‘Mr Perry, have you anything to add?’ she said, wasting her breath but it was important for the record to extend the invitation.
He shook his head.
‘Please wait a moment.’ She got to her feet.
‘You married?’ he said, grinning.
Rachel glared at him. Tosser.
‘You got a ring on. That’s just for show, innit? You’re a muff muncher, i’nt you?’
She wanted to slap his fat, smug face. As she reached the door, he said, ‘All right then, I did it, I shot him. And I set him on fire. I confess.’ The grin widened, showing his gums, and a bead of blood burst on the sore by his mouth.
Fuck me! Perry’s lawyer looked as shocked as Rachel was but the turnaround accounted for why Perry had been smiling like a loon.
‘We would like to get a new statement from Mr Perry in the light of this admission of guilt,’ Rachel said to the solicitor.
‘Go for it,’ Neil Perry said.
Rachel announced that they would begin again in half an hour. Which would just give her time for a fag, a very large coffee and a chance to talk to Godzilla and find out what the other twin was doing.
Elise suggested taking flowers too but flowers didn’t seem right to Janet. They could send some for the funeral if that’s what Vivien and Ken wanted, the card would be enough for now. She said this to Elise, who answered, ‘Just a card?’
‘You could include a note, something personal about Olivia, your memories, what a good friend she was.’
Elise’s face compressed and she turned away. They were in a café. Janet couldn’t get Elise to have anything to eat but she had drunk a milkshake and Janet had a coffee. She’d had far too much coffee in the last forty-eight hours, could feel her nerves singing with false energy. Hard to resist though. There was a television on in the corner, the sound muted, thank God, as the news began with Olivia as the top story. Pictures of Olivia were everywhere. Time and again Janet’s stomach turned over, still not desensitized to the image of the girl who’d been part of their lives in such a shocking context, still not ready to accept the reality of her death.
‘You don’t have to do it all today,’ Janet said. ‘We could drop a card round now and then you can send something more when you’ve had time to think about it.’
‘OK,’ Elise said quietly.
She chose a card without a message, rejecting all the condolence cards with pictures of doves and crosses and phrases that she said were tacky. The card had a white background, embossed with shells, almost abstract. Janet had a pen in her bag.
‘What shall I put?’
‘Keep it simple,’ Janet said, ‘maybe that you’re thinking of them?’