life.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Rachel said, ‘you’ll meet someone else.’
‘How, where?’
‘At work maybe?’
‘And that went really well last time,’ Janet said dryly. Meaning Andy.
‘Dating sites, then,’ Rachel said.
‘No way!’
‘Some of them are all right.’
‘And what if you end up with some nutter who’s got a thing for spanking?’ Janet said.
‘You don’t like a good spanking?’ Rachel kept a straight face. ‘You and Ade never—’
‘Shut up.’
‘As long as you agree a safe word you’re fine,’ Rachel said.
‘How do people ever pick those?’ Janet said. ‘How do you choose something you might not say anyway?’
‘Have to be something daft, like pineapple.’
‘Pineapple?’ Janet laughed.
‘Or a weird phrase, “It’s foggy in Paris”.’
‘Too long,’ Janet said, ‘sounds like a spy novel. The kids had a safe word when they were little. If there was a change of plan and someone had to pick them up, someone they weren’t expecting, then they’d have this password. It was Pikachu for a while, then Ariel. And Taisie went through this phase when this girl was sort of stalking her. Wanted to be friends, dead clingy, and Taisie didn’t like her but didn’t want to be blunt so I’d get these phone calls: Maria wanted her to stay over, Maria wanted her to go back after school, and Maria was going ice skating, could Taisie go. She’d get herself that wound up and we were always trying to find out what Taisie really wanted to do, knowing that this girl was there listening. In the end we worked out this code. We’d say something like “How you feeling?” or “You up to it?” and if she said “Fine” then off she’d go. That was usually because there were a group of them going. But if she didn’t want to, she’d say, “I think I’m getting a migraine.”’
‘Does she get migraines?’ Rachel said.
‘Does she heck. That meant “Come get me now”. We’d ride to the rescue and no feelings were hurt.’
‘Did this friend get the hint?’
‘No. But they ended up at different secondary schools. Never seen her since. So, you and Sean, what’s your safe word?’
Rachel laughed. ‘You must be joking. No way does he get to tie me up and hit me. Other way round maybe.’
‘Dominatrix,’ Janet said.
‘You should try that with Ade, long black boots, fishnets—’
‘Shut up! We’re way past that.’
‘You’re blushing,’ Rachel said.
Janet just narrowed her eyes and pointedly put the radio on.
It started to rain as they entered the town; a mist of fine drops speckled the windscreen and blurred the view. The address they had was a few streets back from the seafront. Pale-blue painted walls and a stripy awning over the front door. SAT TV, Wi-Fi and Vacancies signs in the window. A B&B. One of many. All with vacancies, from what Rachel could see.
The woman who answered the door was in her sixties, on the fat side and wore denim trousers and a navy needlecord shirt with a small print of birds on it. Her hair was brown, dyed, Rachel reckoned, cut fairly short. Practical, easy to look after.
‘Judith Kavanagh?’ Janet said.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m DC Janet Scott from the Manchester Metropolitan Police and this is my colleague DC Rachel Bailey. Could we come in for a minute?’
The woman pulled a face, half-wry, puzzled to find the police on her doorstep but not alarmed, which was a more common reaction. Was she hiding any consternation? Probably not fair to cast her as a potential villain on first sight but Rachel understood that most victims were known to their killers. Though picturing Mrs Kavanagh with a gun and a can of petrol took some doing.
The property was bigger than it looked from the outside. ‘We’d better go through to the back,’ Judith Kavanagh said. They passed a residents’ lounge, dining room and kitchen and then went through a door marked private and into what served as her own living room. ‘Can I get you a
‘Don’t be daft,’ Rachel said, ‘you’ll meet someone else.’
‘How, where?’
‘At work maybe?’
‘And that went really well last time,’ Janet said dryly. Meaning Andy.
‘Dating sites, then,’ Rachel said.
‘No way!’
‘Some of them are all right.’
‘And what if you end up with some nutter who’s got a thing for spanking?’ Janet said.
‘You don’t like a good spanking?’ Rachel kept a straight face. ‘You and Ade never—’
‘Shut up.’
‘As long as you agree a safe word you’re fine,’ Rachel said.
‘How do people ever pick those?’ Janet said. ‘How do you choose something you might not say anyway?’
‘Have to be something daft, like pineapple.’
‘Pineapple?’ Janet laughed.
‘Or a weird phrase, “It’s foggy in Paris”.’
‘Too long,’ Janet said, ‘sounds like a spy novel. The kids had a safe word when they were little. If there was a change of plan and someone had to pick them up, someone they weren’t expecting, then they’d have this password. It was Pikachu for a while, then Ariel. And Taisie went through this phase when this girl was sort of stalking her. Wanted to be friends, dead clingy, and Taisie didn’t like her but didn’t want to be blunt so I’d get these phone calls: Maria wanted her to stay over, Maria wanted her to go back after school, and Maria was going ice skating, could Taisie go. She’d get herself that wound up and we were always trying to find out what Taisie really wanted to do, knowing that this girl was there listening. In the end we worked out this code. We’d say something like “How you feeling?” or “You up to it?” and if she said “Fine” then off she’d go. That was usually because there were a group of them going. But if she didn’t want to, she’d say, “I think I’m getting a migraine.”’
‘Does she get migraines?’ Rachel said.
‘Does she heck. That meant “Come get me now”. We’d ride to the rescue and no feelings were hurt.’
‘Did this friend get the hint?’
‘No. But they ended up at different secondary schools. Never seen her since. So, you and Sean, what’s your safe word?’
Rachel laughed. ‘You must be joking. No way does he get to tie me up and hit me. Other way round maybe.’
‘Dominatrix,’ Janet said.
‘You should try that with Ade, long black boots, fishnets—’
‘Shut up! We’re way past that.’
‘You’re blushing,’ Rachel said.
Janet just narrowed her eyes and pointedly put the radio on.
It started to rain as they entered the town; a mist of fine drops speckled the windscreen and blurred the view. The address they had was a few streets back from the seafront. Pale-blue painted walls and a stripy awning over the front door. SAT TV, Wi-Fi and Vacancies signs in the window. A B&B. One of many. All with vacancies, from what Rachel could see.
The woman who answered the door was in her sixties, on the fat side and wore denim trousers and a navy needlecord shirt with a small print of birds on it. Her hair was brown, dyed, Rachel reckoned, cut fairly short. Practical, easy to look after.
‘Judith Kavanagh?’ Janet said.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m DC Janet Scott from the Manchester Metropolitan Police and this is my colleague DC Rachel Bailey. Could we come in for a minute?’
The woman pulled a face, half-wry, puzzled to find the police on her doorstep but not alarmed, which was a more common reaction. Was she hiding any consternation? Probably not fair to cast her as a potential villain on first sight but Rachel understood that most victims were known to their killers. Though picturing Mrs Kavanagh with a gun and a can of petrol took some doing.
The property was bigger than it looked from the outside. ‘We’d better go through to the back,’ Judith Kavanagh said. They passed a residents’ lounge, dining room and kitchen and then went through a door marked private and into what served as her own living room. ‘Can I get you a
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