Page 8 of The Girl in Room 12

I’m on the other side of the road so I stop and watch for a moment. I’m not doing anything different to other people who have gathered on the pavement to gawp. There’s no sign pointing to me. The guilty one.

‘Horrific, isn’t it?’ I spin around and there’s a young man in jeans and a puffa jacket walking towards me. He looks around thirty, and his dark brown hair falls across his forehead. He pushes it from his eyes and stops beside me.

I need to answer him. Act normally. ‘Yeah, it’s terrible. So sad.’

‘Do you live around here?’ He’s not wearing gloves, and shoves his hands in his pockets.

I nod, but don’t offer him any information.

‘Did you know her?’ he asks.

I look across at the hotel. ‘No.’ My cheeks burn, even though what I’ve said isn’t a lie.

‘It’s just that you look upset. I thought maybe you knew her.’

A flush of heat passes through my body. ‘Who wouldn’t be upset? A woman’s been murdered in a hotel room.’

He nods slowly but doesn’t respond, and I feel the heavy weight of his stare.

‘Didyouknow her?’ I ask. Turning this back to him will detract from my guilt.

‘Nope.’ He smiles. ‘You have a nice day now.’

He walks off, heading across the bridge towards the high street, and I’m left feeling uneasy. It’s not just what he’s said, but the way he studied me so carefully, his eyes appraising me for too long. I watch him for a few moments, and he turns to look back at me. There’s no longer any hint of a smile on his face.

Whoever that man is, it feels as if he knows exactly what I’m doing here.

THREE

Putney Community Group

Public Group, 10.7K members

Oksana Thomas:I’m so sad to hear about the woman who was found dead in the River Walk. My heart goes out to her family. I hope they catch who did it.

Comments:

Lee Broomfield:Terrible. Wife was one of her clients. Said she was a lovely person. I can’t believe the CCTV wasn’t working. It had gone down and the engineer was due today. Otherwise I’m sure they’d have a suspect by now.

Renee Curtis:Not being funny, but what was she doing there in the hotel? Apparently she lived up the road. Bit weird. Think she was having an affair. Not saying she deserved what happened, so don’t have a go, but it’s a bit weird.

Ajay Khan:It’s someone who knew her. Has to be. The police will find him or her.

Nora David:Maybe she took her own life? Suicide is the number one killer of young people today. Terrible.

Ajay Khan:Don’t think it’s possible to strangle yourself and then climb into a bath unconscious, is it?

Nora David:No need to be nasty – I didn’t know that’s how she died.

Ajay Khan:It’s someone she knows, I’m telling you. Always is.

Sarah Brooks:Can everyone just stop commenting on her personal life? It’s disrespectful and none of us know anything about her. Just let the police do their job.

I leave work early and make my way to Poppy’s school. I’ll have a twenty-minute wait at the school gates, but at least I’m outside in the cold, brisk air. As much as I love the bookshop, today the air inside feels stifling, and Cole’s questioning gaze on me is too much to bear. Perhaps it’s paranoia, but it felt as though he was scrutinising everything I did.

There’s a group of three mums I recognise huddled by the gate. I don’t know their names – I’m always rushing to the shop after dropping Poppy so I can never linger long enough to strike up a friendship with anyone. Sarah – who I knew way before the girls started school – is the only mum I talk to here for longerthan a brief hello. And now it’s too late to forge friendships. Everyone huddles in cliques, closed to new members.

The three mums are so engrossed in their conversation that none of them look up as I approach. Even before I hear a word, I can tell what they’re talking about. Alice Hughes. As if her murder is something they watched a documentary about on Netflix last night. None of them look upset; instead, their bodies and eyes are alight with excitement. The pull of gossip. And it makes me feel sick.

---