while. Or persuaded Ben to go home.’
‘In hindsight we’d all do things differently,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything.’
‘I have no idea what the argument was about,’ he says. ‘I’d dropped Vivien off at the jeweller’s earlier that day and they seemed happy to see each other. They were holding hands.’
‘Did he leave her alone like that often?’
‘I don’t know. I doubt it. That was the only time he’s ever asked me to drive past to check on the house at night.’
He looks sideways at me again and his eyes linger on my face a moment before turning back to the road. His left hand rests on the handbrake, inches from my thigh. His fingernails are neatly trimmed and clean.
‘They were married a long time, Rose. All married couples argue. And if it’s any consolation, there was more affection between them than most other couples I’ve seen.’
‘That’s exactly what I told DS Cole.’
The smell of flowers has faded, now all I’m aware of is the subtle, masculine scent of Isaac’s aftershave.
‘Did you know Ben’s ex-girlfriend has been visiting him? I bumped into her the other night outside the house. Her name is Cleo Baker.’
Isaac nods. ‘I gathered.’
‘Had you seen him with her, before Vivien died?’
‘No.’
I stare at Isaac’s profile. He doesn’t show much of a reaction to what I’ve said. His calm demeanour, his inscrutability, which up until now I’ve found a comfort, is beginning to irritate me. I get the impression Isaac’s first priority is his loyalty to Ben, and that he’d rather protect Ben than tell me the truth.
‘I was wondering if Cleo might have been the cause of their argument.’
‘Rose, I really have no idea. I wouldn’t think so, but I really don’t know.’
I keep my eyes straight ahead of me, on the road, on the back of the black cab in front of us as we crawl down Wellington Road.
‘Do you think the police are allowed to just turn up like DS Cole did this morning,’ I say, ‘whenever and wherever they like?’
‘I suppose they are,’ Isaac says.
‘I don’t want to say anything stupid. I don’t want to give them any sort of ammunition if they’ve decided to dig into Vivien and Ben’s relationship.’
‘Ben doesn’t need you to protect him,’ Isaac says. His eyes are back on the road, both hands on the wheel. ‘We were out in Surrey together that morning, on a site survey. He’s not a focus of the investigation.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘But whenever I’m with DS Cole, I feel guilty. As though she’s accusing me of something, even though she doesn’t articulate it.’
‘Everyone feels that way when they’re being interviewed by a police officer. I had quite a grilling myself since I was the one who found her.’
Isaac clears his throat and then he falls silent. He looks across at me, only briefly. I sense he wants to say more. He is waiting for me to ask, to give him permission to continue. But I am not ready to know.
I turn to look out of my tinted window. London is so clogged up with traffic. I worry about Lexi growing up here; no fresh air, no respite.
‘I didn’t tell you the whole story at dinner the other night,’ I say. ‘When I said I brought up my daughter alone, perhaps I gave you the wrong impression, as though I was some kind of saintly, self-sacrificing single mother. I wasn’t. That’s part of my guilt.’
I hear myself sigh. I have such a strong urge to confess, for someone else to know my burden.
‘I fell pregnant with Vivien by mistake. I was in the final year of my basic nursing training and the timing could not have been worse. I’d been offered a place on a specialist training course and I was desperate to take it up. The training would mean I could carry out many of the same procedures as a neonatal paediatrician does – inserting cannulas, intubating the babies, that sort of thing. But the course was in Southampton and it would have been impossible with a baby to
‘In hindsight we’d all do things differently,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything.’
‘I have no idea what the argument was about,’ he says. ‘I’d dropped Vivien off at the jeweller’s earlier that day and they seemed happy to see each other. They were holding hands.’
‘Did he leave her alone like that often?’
‘I don’t know. I doubt it. That was the only time he’s ever asked me to drive past to check on the house at night.’
He looks sideways at me again and his eyes linger on my face a moment before turning back to the road. His left hand rests on the handbrake, inches from my thigh. His fingernails are neatly trimmed and clean.
‘They were married a long time, Rose. All married couples argue. And if it’s any consolation, there was more affection between them than most other couples I’ve seen.’
‘That’s exactly what I told DS Cole.’
The smell of flowers has faded, now all I’m aware of is the subtle, masculine scent of Isaac’s aftershave.
‘Did you know Ben’s ex-girlfriend has been visiting him? I bumped into her the other night outside the house. Her name is Cleo Baker.’
Isaac nods. ‘I gathered.’
‘Had you seen him with her, before Vivien died?’
‘No.’
I stare at Isaac’s profile. He doesn’t show much of a reaction to what I’ve said. His calm demeanour, his inscrutability, which up until now I’ve found a comfort, is beginning to irritate me. I get the impression Isaac’s first priority is his loyalty to Ben, and that he’d rather protect Ben than tell me the truth.
‘I was wondering if Cleo might have been the cause of their argument.’
‘Rose, I really have no idea. I wouldn’t think so, but I really don’t know.’
I keep my eyes straight ahead of me, on the road, on the back of the black cab in front of us as we crawl down Wellington Road.
‘Do you think the police are allowed to just turn up like DS Cole did this morning,’ I say, ‘whenever and wherever they like?’
‘I suppose they are,’ Isaac says.
‘I don’t want to say anything stupid. I don’t want to give them any sort of ammunition if they’ve decided to dig into Vivien and Ben’s relationship.’
‘Ben doesn’t need you to protect him,’ Isaac says. His eyes are back on the road, both hands on the wheel. ‘We were out in Surrey together that morning, on a site survey. He’s not a focus of the investigation.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘But whenever I’m with DS Cole, I feel guilty. As though she’s accusing me of something, even though she doesn’t articulate it.’
‘Everyone feels that way when they’re being interviewed by a police officer. I had quite a grilling myself since I was the one who found her.’
Isaac clears his throat and then he falls silent. He looks across at me, only briefly. I sense he wants to say more. He is waiting for me to ask, to give him permission to continue. But I am not ready to know.
I turn to look out of my tinted window. London is so clogged up with traffic. I worry about Lexi growing up here; no fresh air, no respite.
‘I didn’t tell you the whole story at dinner the other night,’ I say. ‘When I said I brought up my daughter alone, perhaps I gave you the wrong impression, as though I was some kind of saintly, self-sacrificing single mother. I wasn’t. That’s part of my guilt.’
I hear myself sigh. I have such a strong urge to confess, for someone else to know my burden.
‘I fell pregnant with Vivien by mistake. I was in the final year of my basic nursing training and the timing could not have been worse. I’d been offered a place on a specialist training course and I was desperate to take it up. The training would mean I could carry out many of the same procedures as a neonatal paediatrician does – inserting cannulas, intubating the babies, that sort of thing. But the course was in Southampton and it would have been impossible with a baby to
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