Blood Symmetry by Kate Rhodes Page B

child.
    We arrived at Denise Thorpe’s house in Wandsworth by half past ten. A plain three-storey box dating from the 1970s, its most striking feature was its proximity to St Mary’s Cemetery. Gravestones and weathered statues were visible through the railings ten metres away, sycamore trees guarding the entrance like sentinels. Their scarlet leaves were still so glossy it seemed unthinkable that soon they’d be littering the streets, brittle as cigarette papers.
    The woman who opened the door had a dreamy air, as if she’d just risen from a nap. Her frizz of mousy hair flew in all directions, oval face free of makeup. She was dressed in a black turtleneck and shapeless grey skirt, deliberately hiding her attractiveness. Angie and I waited in silence while she prepared tea in the kitchen. Her living room was the opposite of Clare Riordan’s stylish lounge. The shelves were full of holiday mementos; two long-haired cats curled on an armchair, beside a basket full of yarns and knitting needles. The place felt like the home of an elderly spinster, even though Denise was married and under forty-five. A packet of co-codamol tablets lay on the table: the strongest pain relief available over the counter. If she was taking them for a chronic illness, that might explain her distracted manner. Denisesoon reappeared, carrying a tray loaded with bone china and packets of biscuits.
    â€˜I wasn’t sure which you’d like,’ she said, ‘so I brought them all.’
    â€˜That’s kind of you.’ I smiled at her then pointed at a photo on her mantelpiece. ‘Is this your daughter?’
    Her face relaxed. ‘Emma’s studying law at York Uni. I’m glad she’s not here to face all this.’
    â€˜It must be hard for you too,’ Angie commented.
    â€˜I can’t seem to concentrate. It hasn’t sunk in yet.’
    My sympathy increased. If Lola had been taken, I’d be in pieces too. ‘How long have you and Clare been friends?’
    â€˜Since school. Everyone said we were chalk and cheese, but we shared a flat right through university. She even introduced me to my husband.’
    â€˜They worked together?’
    She nodded. ‘At the same hospital, years ago. Simon’s a psychotherapist. I’m afraid he’s upstairs with a client today.’
    â€˜That’s not a problem. Did you train for medicine like Clare?’
    She gave a vague smile. ‘I only practised for a year. I write exam papers for science students now. Clare’s always been the fearless one.’
    â€˜Does she confide in you?’
    She looked flustered, cheeks colouring. ‘We know each other’s secrets. Or I thought we did.’
    â€˜And you meet regularly?’
    â€˜Her house is ten minutes away. I drop by most weekends, or she brings Mikey here.’ Her eyes were welling. ‘Simon and I are the closest thing he has to a family. We offered to look after him, but they wouldn’t let us.’
    â€˜Mikey’s safest where he is for now. It’s possible the abductors targeted him too,’ I said quietly. ‘Can you think of anything he’d find comforting right now?’
    â€˜He loves helping Clare in the kitchen. It’s his favourite place.’
    â€˜Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.’ I put down my cup and saucer. ‘We think Clare was having a relationship with someone. It’s important we rule the man out. Do you know his name?’
    Her gaze slipped out of focus. ‘She told me not to speak about that.’
    â€˜It might help us find her.’
    â€˜Simon doesn’t even know.’
    â€˜But things are different now, aren’t they?’
    Her fingers gripped the handle of her teacup. ‘When she comes home, you mustn’t say I told you. She’d be so angry.’
    â€˜We won’t, I promise.’
    â€˜I’ve never met him, but his name’s Sam Travers. He lives in