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Ava and Ash swap looks and shake their heads. When was the last time they went in there? Invitations are rare.
Bevan steps closer to Ava. ‘You – you and your brother – you’re the ones who saw her last, is that right?’
Ava tucks her hair behind her ear, looking at Ash.
Behind her, my father hands a cafetière to Mother as if it’s infected. ‘You’re taking this very seriously,’ he says, ‘for a girl who has gone gallivanting off to Glastonbury.’
I want to slap him.
‘Yes, Glastonbury,’ says my mother, staring at the cafetière.
Bevan blinks. ‘Glastonbury security will be contacted. I’m going to the study. Croft, photo please. Frances, come with me.’
‘Are we, like, prisoners?’ says Ash.
Bevan pauses at the door. ‘If you’d like to appear helpful, it would be best for you to remain in this room.’
Tristan walks over with his hand outstretched. ‘Tristan.’
Bevan looks at his hand for a moment before shaking it briefly. I realise there’s little chance she doesn’t already know who he is.
He smiles. ‘We’ll do everything we can to help,’ he says.
‘Perfect,’ says Bevan.
Father clears his throat. ‘Within reason. I realise time is of the essence, but if you plan to interview us, we’ll have to wait for our lawyer.’
I feel as though I’m being picked up by the crest of a wave, the sea floor dropping away from me.
37
NOW
My father goes on. ‘I’m afraid it might take her some time. She’s coming from Bristol.’
Three hours. Without traffic.
Ash smirks and I take a second to register that while Ava starts worrying a cuticle. ‘Dad, what?’ she says, looking over at Tristan, as if it were he who had said it.
Tristan goes to stand behind Ava at the table, resting a hand on her shoulder. ‘Father, I’m sure this isn’t necessary.’ He looks at me, his hazel eyes glinting with a silent promise to stand up for me.
‘The police have their protocols, and we have ours,’ says Father.
‘Are you very practised in being interviewed by the police, Mr Beaufort-Bradley?’ Bevan asks.
‘Perhaps if I were, I would consider it unnecessary.’
‘Father, what are you doing?’ My blood beats in my ears.
He gives me an apologetic smile. ‘This is how we do things.’ He looks more powerful suddenly, the wrinkles showing fortitude rather than age.
‘I-I’m not waiting for a lawyer.’ My mind is racing. Will he get in the way of the search too? Would they need a warrant without his consent? Why doesn’t he want to be questioned without a lawyer?
‘Your brother is in the public eye now,’ says my mother, and my father squeezes her shoulders. She’s good at knowing what to say when his attention isn’t directly on her.
‘Grandad, it’s fine,’ says Ash. ‘We followed Jenna to make sure she was okay. We tried to get her to come back to school but she told us to go away. That’s it.’
Ash thinks his grandfather is trying to protect them. Is that what’s going on? Why would Father think they needed protection?
