Jane swallowed and pushed the Hermès scarf back underneath the other scarves, then placed the shawl on top and closed the drawer. She was shaking as she took off the bolero and put her shirt and jacket on. Many women wore Hermès scarves, she reminded herself, trying to dismiss it as a coincidence. She wanted to have another look at the scarf and was about to open the drawer when Natalie came into the room.
‘Have you decided?’ Natalie asked, holding a jug of custard in her hand.
‘Yes, it’s the bolero.’
‘Good. Now, come and have some pie. It’s ready on the table, and I’ve made the custard.’
Jane picked up the bolero and followed her into the lounge where they had eaten at her small, drop-leaf dining table.
‘Gosh, I don’t know if I can manage anything else… I’m so full.’
‘Don’t be silly! Sit down and have another glass of wine.’
Jane sat quietly opposite Natalie, watching as she sliced the apple pie and proffered the custard jug.
‘Just a really small piece for me, honestly…’
Natalie gave her a thin slice and took a larger piece for herself.
‘I didn’t make the pie, but it’s from a fabulous deli on Hampstead High Street.’
Jane thought back over her time with Natalie. The coincidence of bumping into her at the hospital, her repeated calls to the flat, her determination to meet up after not seeing each other for years. But here was Natalie cooking dinner for her, offering her apple pie, surely there was nothing sinister going on? But as she struggled to eat a small mouthful of pie, doubts niggled away.
‘It’s delicious… tastes just like it was home-made.’
Her head was spinning as she tried to think of a way she could leave. She was feeling sick to her stomach.
‘Would you like some coffee?’ Natalie asked, pushing her half-eaten dessert away. She lit a cigarette. ‘Or perhaps we could have a walk on Hampstead Heath, then maybe have coffee when we come back?’
‘Actually, I really need to call my parents just to double-check everything’s OK. They’re leaving for Harwich this afternoon to go on their cruise. Can I use your phone?’
‘Sure. Let me start clearing up the kitchen and then we can set off. Hampstead Heath and Parliament Hill’s not far from here, and sometimes there are a few shops open on a Sunday.’
Jane watched as Natalie stacked the dirty dishes and carried them out to the kitchen. She quickly crossed over to the phone and dialled, knowing that her parents would have already left.
‘Hello, Daddy,’ she said to the dialling tone. ‘It’s Jane. Just checking everything’s all right before you leave?’
Natalie was in the kitchen when Jane returned.
‘I’m so sorry, but I need to go. One of the locks on my mother’s suitcase has broken and they can’t close it. I’m going to have to pick up one of mine and drive it over there now. They’re in a real flap and they’ll miss the ship if I don’t go.’
‘Oh, no…’ said Natalie ‘I was hoping we could have a lovely evening together, and go to a nice pub.’
‘Well, let me see how I get on. I can always come back afterwards.’
Natalie held up the bolero as Jane headed towards the front door. ‘Take this with you, just in case you can’t get back… It’s Good Friday at the end of this week.’
‘Right… Gosh, sorry. My parents can be rather needy sometimes, but I’d hate them to miss their cruise…’
‘Don’t worry. Just call me if you can make it back afterwards.’
Jane hurried out to her car and climbed inside. She sat in the driver’s seat for a few minutes, telling herself that she was being an idiot and was probably just being paranoid after the Pearl situation. She started the engine and drove home, worried that she had drunk too much wine to be driving. By the time she arrived at her flat she was a nervous wreck.
Letting herself in Jane tried to work out whether she had been jumping to ridiculous conclusions about the Hermès scarf she’d seen at Natalie’s. She lay on her bed and closed her eyes, trying to recall exactly what was in the statement she had read from the witness. Something was nagging her. The scarf that the woman in the phone box had been wearing had been described as possibly Hermès style, with red setter dogs on it, which was obviously different from the one in Natalie’s drawer, which had horses’ heads and horseshoes. But perhaps the witness had been mistaken? When she’d first seen it in Natalie’s drawer, she’d thought for a moment the pattern had been dogs — that’s why she’d pulled it out.
Jane thought through her all of her interactions with Natalie. She wavered constantly between refusing to believe that any connection could be possible, to questioning all their conversations. Eventually she decided that perhaps she needed to talk to DCI Church.
Jane rang the Dip Squad but Church wasn’t available; however, Stanley would be in later that afternoon and he would know where Church could be contacted. Jane replaced the receiver and, almost as if she were on automatic pilot, went back out to her car. Desperately trying to remember the exact address, she drove to Kilburn.
Jane passed Dexter’s road twice before she recognised it. She drove down it slowly until she found his building. She told herself that if Dexter was not in she would just go back home and call Stanley again. Maybe by then she would have come to the conclusion that she was just being paranoid.
Her stomach was churning as she rang the bell for Flat 2. There were no names listed, but she remembered that he lived on the second floor. She rang the bell three times and was just about to turn away when the main front door opened.
Dexter was barefooted, wearing only a pair of tracksuit bottoms.
‘Jane!’
‘Sorry to disturb you… I just needed to talk something over with someone, and DCI Church wasn’t available. If I’m interrupting you I can—’
‘No, come in.’
Jane followed him up the stairs and along the landing to his flat, where the door had been left wide open.
‘I was just going to have a shower, but sit down. Do you need a drink? You look a bit shaken.’
‘I am rather shaken, actually… no, I don’t want a drink. I just need some advice. I might just be adding two and two to get five, or whatever the saying is.’
Dexter sat opposite her on one of his big comfortable sofas, as Jane sat perched on the edge of the other sofa, clasping and unclasping her hands.
‘So, what’s the problem? I heard about your flatmate being arrested…’
‘It’s not about her… It’s about someone else I befriended, and… er…’
Jane stuttered her way through the story of how she had met up with Natalie again years after they had been at the training academy together, and that Natalie had failed the course and was now working in a bank.
Dexter held up his hand.
Do you want to get to the reason you’re here, Jane?’
‘Her name is Natalie Wilde.’
‘That’s a good Irish name.’
‘What?’
‘Oscar Wilde… Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.’
Jane took a deep breath and explained that she had seen the headscarf with the Hermès label and the horses’ heads in Natalie’s drawer, and that she wondered if it could possibly be the same scarf that had been described by the woman who gave a statement, regarding the suspect in the phone box at the time of the Covent Garden explosion.