‘His father . . .?’ asked Carole tentatively.
The girl let out a bitter chuckle. ‘What do you think? He scarpered soon as he knew I was up the duff. Not that I mind. I wasn’t in love or anything like that. He was quite fit but, anyway, he served his purpose.’
‘You mean you wanted to get pregnant?’
‘Too right I did. Always wanted to have something I could really call my own. Now I’ve got Kyle. Anyway, council wouldn’t have given me the flat if I hadn’t got the baby.’
Carole bit back various Daily Mail responses that were rising up towards her lips. ‘If we could talk about Marina . . .’
‘Sure. I liked her. That’s why I hope nothing bad’s happened to her.’
‘Her mother thinks she was murdered.’
‘I know. But there’s lots of things that can happen to girls of her age that aren’t murder.’
‘That would cause her to disappear?’
‘Yeah. I know plenty of girls down here in Brighton who just moved out of their homes. Mostly from a long way away, Scotland, the North. They just couldn’t stand the way their parents kept going on at them. Nobody knows where they are, but they haven’t been murdered. They’ve just started leading different lives.’
‘And you think that’s what happened with Marina?’
‘I think it’s more likely than her being murdered.’
‘You’re probably right. Susan – Marina’s mother – talked about her having a lot of sleepovers with her school friends . . .’
‘Nothing odd in that. We all did.’
‘Did she stay at your place?’
‘Coupla times. Look, I know what you’re going to ask next.’
‘Oh?’
‘Did she stay with me the night before she went missing?’
The girl was brighter than her appearance might suggest. ‘How did you know I was going to ask that?’
‘Because the police did too. It’s the obvious question to ask.’
‘You said on the phone you weren’t very impressed with the police’s enquiries into Marina’s disappearance.’
‘No, well, they just went through the motions. Don’t blame them really. Marina was sixteen, over the age of consent. If she wanted to move in with a boyfriend, well, that was her business, wasn’t it?’
Carole was very quick to pick up on that. ‘And is that what she did? Move in with a boyfriend?’
Donna Grodsky blushed. She’d said more than she intended. ‘I don’t know,’ she stuttered. ‘I mean, that’s what she said she wanted to do, but I don’t know if it was kind of just an idea or if she’d actually got someone in mind.’
‘Did you tell the police what she’d said?’
‘No, of course I bloody didn’t!’
‘Why not?’
‘Because she was my mate. Look, if she’s moved in with some bloke to get away from her mum, I’m not being much of a mate if I set the police off investigating that possibility, am I?’
‘And for the same reason you didn’t tell her mother?’
‘Of course I didn’t.’
They were interrupted at that moment by the arrival of Vin with their food. The portions were massive. Donna’s steak and accompaniments hardly fitted on her plate. And Carole’s baguette was served with chips, which she hadn’t expected. But they did look rather good chips.
Carole noticed that both their glasses were empty. ‘I don’t know if you . . .?’
‘Yeah. Vin, get me another large voddy and Coke. And same again for Carole.’
‘Oh, I’m not sure that I—’
‘Go on, get ’em, Vin.’ As the barmaid went off, Donna Grodsky demanded, ‘Why’re you looking at me like that, Carole?’
‘I’m not looking at you like anything.’
‘Yes, you are, and I know exactly what you’re thinking. Third double vodka and she’s meant to be in charge of a baby.’
‘No, I wasn’t—’
‘You don’t think I’m breastfeeding the little bugger, do you?’
‘No, I—’
‘Look, I’ll have you know this is the first drink I’ve had for three weeks. I can’t afford booze on the pittance of a handout the government gives me. So when someone offers me a drink, I’m not going to say no, am I? And it’s not like you’re not getting what you asked for. I’m answering your questions, aren’t I?’
‘Yes. I’m very grateful for—’
‘Then why’re you looking so bloody disapproving?’
‘I’m not deliberately doing it. I just think,’ Carole confessed, ‘that I’ve got the kind of face that does rather . . . tend to look disapproving.’
Donna Grodsky looked at her and then suddenly burst out laughing. ‘I think you’re right, you know. You’ve hit the nail bang on the head there. You were born looking disapproving, weren’t you?’ She looked down sharply to the buggy where Kyle was starting to move his little arms. ‘Better get a move on with the eating. He’ll be waking up in a few minutes. Then he’ll want to be picked up and have his bottle.’
‘Do you mind if we get on with the questions too?’ asked Carole.
‘Not if you don’t mind.’
‘Why should I mind?’
‘Well, my mum always told me – and I’m sure your mummy told you, and all – that it was bad manners for me to talk with my mouth full.’
Carole realized that she was being sent up. She grinned. Donna grinned back. Maybe there had started to be something of a bond between them.
‘The obvious next question,’ said Carole, ‘is whether you have any idea whether Marina really did have a boyfriend and if so, who he was.’
‘I agree,’ Donna replied through a mouthful of steak and onion rings. ‘That is the obvious question. And the answer is, I don’t know. Marina never gave me any name or anything like that. But I think I know the kind of boyfriend she would have liked to have.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Listen, Carole, I don’t know if you know about where Marina come from . . .’
‘Her mother told me about her being found in a rubber dinghy.’
‘Yeah, so you know the basics. Anyway, Marina was convinced that her real parents were Russian. That’s why she was drawn to me. As you might have deduced from my surname, I am not one hundred per cent through-and-through British. My dad was a Russian sailor, came home to see my mum between trips off round the world. Well, he did for a while. Then he buggered off, rather in the manner of Kyle’s Dad. Do you detect a pattern here, Carole?’
‘I’m not quite sure what you—’
‘It’s a pattern called men, that’s what it is.’
The baby in the buggy was beginning to twitch and make little grunting noises. Carole didn’t have the young mother’s undivided attention for a lot longer.
‘So are you saying that Marina had a Russian boyfriend?’
‘No, but I’m saying if she was looking for a boyfriend, she’d have tried to link up with Brighton’s Russian community.’
‘Is there much of a Russian community in Brighton?’
‘A bit, yeah. There is in most big cities. You know, they’ve got their social clubs, that kind of thing. Restaurants, pubs they go to.’
‘Did Marina know about these places?’
‘I’d told her a bit, yes. My mum knew about them, from when she and my dad . . . well, we’re talking some time back obviously. Probably the places she knew had closed, but other ones had come along. Anyway, Marina was fascinated by all this stuff. She was convinced that she really was Russian and, well, if any Russian boy had come on to her, she’d have let him do anything to her.’
‘And did any Russian boy come on to her?’
Donna Grodsky shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea.’
‘Did she mention any Russian boy’s name?’
‘She mentioned a few, but, look, I’m not going to remember them, am I? We’re talking over eight years ago.’