Page 74 of The World Outside My Window

‘Mrs Parks, I’m DI Baker and this is PC Compton.’ The older officer, who is tall with the physique of a runner bean, introduces himself. ‘Lovely to meet you.’ He holds out his hand, which Laura shakes weakly. ‘Mind if we sit down?’

‘No, course.’

‘Tea?’ Ben asks, and they all nod.

DI Baker doesn’t beat about the bush. ‘Mrs Parks, as we mentioned this morning we have an update for you on the search for your husband, Jim Parks.’ Laura focuses on the smattering of dandruff on the officer’s collar. ‘I don’t know whether you were informed but last week we put out a call in the London area asking for anyone who sees someone matching your husband’s description to come forward. We used the photo you gave us.’

‘No, I didn’t know.’

‘Right, sorry about that, you should have been informed. Anyway, as I said, we hoped it might give us some new leads.’

Laura nods as Ben places mugs of tea in front of everyone. ‘Sugar’s here,’ he says, ducking out of the way and taking a seat next to Laura. She has an urge to hold his hand – just for a bit of comfort, although she knows that would be entirely inappropriate, so she reaches for her mug instead and wraps her hands round it to steady them.

The officer starts speaking again and she listens hopefully.

‘We had all the usual jokers trying it on, of course, sending in mistaken sightings or quite frankly ridiculous ones, and for a while we weren’t hopeful.’ He pauses to take a sip of his scalding-hot tea.

Come on, come on,Laura wants to scream.

‘But then yesterday we received a call that seemed to be genuine, and we have reason to believe it could be a sighting of your husband.’

Laura feels as though she might fall off the chair, and grips the sides of it to steady herself. Her head is swimming and the faces of the officers in front of her are blurred.

‘Laura, are you all right?’ Ben’s voice sounds as though it’s coming from miles away. She turns to face him, and realises he has his hand on her arm. She doesn’t pull away but her skin fizzes beneath his touch.

‘Sorry, I—’ She swallows down the lump in her throat. ‘I – where? Where was this sighting?’

PC Compton consults his notes. ‘Putney. South-west London,’ he adds, when she doesn’t respond.

She frowns in confusion. ‘What makes you think this is definitely Jim?’

PC Compton shuffles uncomfortably in his seat and glances at his superior, who gives him a nod.

‘There was actually more than one report, all in the space of a few hours,’ he admits, his eyes darting between Laura and Ben. ‘One of them took this.’ He picks up a pink folder that Laura didn’t notice before and produces a grainy photocopy, which he slides over to Laura. She picks it up and studies it.

The photo shows a shadowy image of a figure walking along a high street. It’s terrible quality, and the person has their back turned to the camera, head turned slightly to the left so you can make out one cheek and half an eye. The nose is a blur as though they were moving when the photo was taken. Whoever it is, is wearing a dark jacket with the collar pulled up. Laura looks up.

‘What’s this?’

‘We have reason to believe this might be your husband, Mrs Parks.’

Laura looks back at the photo, her heart thumping, and pulls it closer to her face, but the image blurs even more. ‘You think this is Jim?’

‘We were hoping you might be able to confirm that to us,’ the officer says.

Laura doesn’t know what to say. She thought the police were coming here with some concrete evidence about Jim’s whereabouts, one way or the other. Instead all they’ve brought is this grainy picture that’s almost impossible to make out.

‘Is this it?’ She feels anger rising in her. All the days and weeks since Jim’s disappearance, and all the months and years before that when she was trapped in her own home, barely living a life, come bubbling to the surface and it’s all she can do not to rage and throw things around, to scream at them to get out.

Instead, she closes her eyes, takes a few slow, deep breaths.

‘Mrs Parks?’

She opens her eyes but doesn’t speak.

‘Do you think this photo is of your husband, Jim Parks?’

‘How on earth am I supposed to know? It’s just a blur.’

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