see,’ Gully said slowly. ‘So if there had been a sudden change of plan . . .’
Jamie-Lee nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, she would have told us, and definitely contacted her course tutors, since it would need to be something pretty catastrophic for her to miss any of her classes.’
‘Catastrophic?’
‘
Dead
was an exaggeration, I know, but it would still have to be something serious. I mean, something out of her control, which is preventing her from getting in touch with us.’
Gully kept the rest of her questions brief. Jamie-Lee Wallace didn’t strike her as someone who was readily prone to panic; instead she came across as pragmatic, the kind who provided an ear for other people’s problems. From Gully’s experience, people like that only sought help when they genuinely felt there was trouble.
‘What happens now?’ Jamie asked.
‘I’ll go back to the house with you, find out whether any of the other housemates can provide any more information.’
‘They can’t.’
‘I still need to ask, and I’ll need access to her room. Who has a key?’
‘The landlord, I suppose.’
‘No one else?’
‘I don’t know – maybe Rob. He’s Matt’s dad, and he sorted out the lease, so he has all the details.’ Jamie suddenly looked defeated. ‘I should know these things myself, as I’m the one who always organizes any repairs. But I just ask Rob, as I don’t even know the landlord’s name.’
It took less than five minute to drive from the police station to King Street. The road was narrow, lined with townhouses that had been restored or replaced over the past few hundred years. There was only one gap available between the parked cars, so Gully pulled up to the kerb and glanced back at Jamie-Lee, who sat directly behind the front passenger seat.
‘Okay?’ she asked.
Jamie-Lee nodded. Then silently they moved towards number 42A.
It was a pretty but tired-looking cottage with dust-covered rendered walls and windows that looked slightly out of alignment. The front door opened and a figure appeared in the doorway, glancing in their direction then withdrawing quickly. Gully had just enough time to catch sight of a dark jumper and a mop of sandy hair over untamed sideburns. ‘Who was that?’
‘Oslo. He’s gathering everyone together in the main room.’
The hallway was decorated with palm-leaf embossed paper that had been painted over in a shade of dark mulberry. No lights were on, but the furthest door on the left-hand side of the short corridor was ajar and a shaft of bright daylight shone through it. Gully could hear the low murmur of voices and followed Jamie towards them.
As she entered the room, the tiled floor gave way to thin carpet and the walls turned an even gaudier shade of raspberry. She couldn’t escape the thought that the choice of décor had resulted from shopping in the bargain bin. All six of the students now faced her, three male and three female, and, at first glance it was hard to imagine a more mismatched bunch.
Gully introduced herself, then chose a chair on the longer side of the kitchen table, before inviting the others to sit. Instead of just picking any available seat and sitting down, the housemates manoeuvred their chairs until they all faced her directly as a group.
Gully had managed to lodge their first names into her brain, as well as jotting them down in her notebook. She’d even written them on the page in the order that corresponded with where they were now sitting. Meg was sharp featured, with her hair dyed a completely uniform shade of corn-blond. She sat on the far right next to Phil, who already displayed the spreading physique of a middle-aged man, and a receding hairline to go with it. Meg tilted her head closer to his and whispered something, the whole time keeping her black-lined eyes fixed on Gully and, as she spoke, his gaze followed suit.
Jamie and Libby occupied the middle two seats with Matt and Oslo further along. Libby was small framed and
Jamie-Lee nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, she would have told us, and definitely contacted her course tutors, since it would need to be something pretty catastrophic for her to miss any of her classes.’
‘Catastrophic?’
‘
Dead
was an exaggeration, I know, but it would still have to be something serious. I mean, something out of her control, which is preventing her from getting in touch with us.’
Gully kept the rest of her questions brief. Jamie-Lee Wallace didn’t strike her as someone who was readily prone to panic; instead she came across as pragmatic, the kind who provided an ear for other people’s problems. From Gully’s experience, people like that only sought help when they genuinely felt there was trouble.
‘What happens now?’ Jamie asked.
‘I’ll go back to the house with you, find out whether any of the other housemates can provide any more information.’
‘They can’t.’
‘I still need to ask, and I’ll need access to her room. Who has a key?’
‘The landlord, I suppose.’
‘No one else?’
‘I don’t know – maybe Rob. He’s Matt’s dad, and he sorted out the lease, so he has all the details.’ Jamie suddenly looked defeated. ‘I should know these things myself, as I’m the one who always organizes any repairs. But I just ask Rob, as I don’t even know the landlord’s name.’
It took less than five minute to drive from the police station to King Street. The road was narrow, lined with townhouses that had been restored or replaced over the past few hundred years. There was only one gap available between the parked cars, so Gully pulled up to the kerb and glanced back at Jamie-Lee, who sat directly behind the front passenger seat.
‘Okay?’ she asked.
Jamie-Lee nodded. Then silently they moved towards number 42A.
It was a pretty but tired-looking cottage with dust-covered rendered walls and windows that looked slightly out of alignment. The front door opened and a figure appeared in the doorway, glancing in their direction then withdrawing quickly. Gully had just enough time to catch sight of a dark jumper and a mop of sandy hair over untamed sideburns. ‘Who was that?’
‘Oslo. He’s gathering everyone together in the main room.’
The hallway was decorated with palm-leaf embossed paper that had been painted over in a shade of dark mulberry. No lights were on, but the furthest door on the left-hand side of the short corridor was ajar and a shaft of bright daylight shone through it. Gully could hear the low murmur of voices and followed Jamie towards them.
As she entered the room, the tiled floor gave way to thin carpet and the walls turned an even gaudier shade of raspberry. She couldn’t escape the thought that the choice of décor had resulted from shopping in the bargain bin. All six of the students now faced her, three male and three female, and, at first glance it was hard to imagine a more mismatched bunch.
Gully introduced herself, then chose a chair on the longer side of the kitchen table, before inviting the others to sit. Instead of just picking any available seat and sitting down, the housemates manoeuvred their chairs until they all faced her directly as a group.
Gully had managed to lodge their first names into her brain, as well as jotting them down in her notebook. She’d even written them on the page in the order that corresponded with where they were now sitting. Meg was sharp featured, with her hair dyed a completely uniform shade of corn-blond. She sat on the far right next to Phil, who already displayed the spreading physique of a middle-aged man, and a receding hairline to go with it. Meg tilted her head closer to his and whispered something, the whole time keeping her black-lined eyes fixed on Gully and, as she spoke, his gaze followed suit.
Jamie and Libby occupied the middle two seats with Matt and Oslo further along. Libby was small framed and
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