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Everyone looks at each other and Bevan says, ‘Thank you, Ava.’
Ava stands hesitantly, looking confused, wondering what she did to offer herself.
‘Just go,’ says Mina, shooing her after Bevan.
My father stares at me. ‘What’s going on, Frances?’
I’m about to tell him, but should I? ‘Detective Bevan got a call and then she came in here.’ It’s not a lie.
There’s no room by the fire so I sit at the table. Mina gets up and moments later presses a mug of hot chocolate into my hands, but still she doesn’t meet my eye.
No one talks. Shouldn’t we be trying to figure out what’s going on?
‘Can anyone think of anything that might be useful?’ I say. ‘Do we know about any new friends, any plans to go anywhere?’
‘Your daughter is at Glastonbury with that sordid little girlfriend of hers and you’re risking the reputation of this family, your brother’s career, over it,’ says my father.
I feel like I’m being squeezed in a vice. ‘How am I risking any of that?’ I whisper.
‘Don’t be so naïve.’
‘Ash,’ says Croft, standing by the door now.
‘Me?’ He stands. I can see him wondering if Bevan’s choice of first interviewee was quite as random as it seemed.
‘You don’t have to,’ says Father, and Ash looks at him, then at me.
It’s the first time he’s looked at me properly all day and the thought that he’s been lying to me and to the police about Jenna being bullied, and that he might be about to change tack and refuse to speak to Bevan…
I don’t know if he can see all the emotions on my face, but he goes white. ‘It’s fine,’ he says, his voice hoarse, and walks out.
Father tuts. ‘Tristan,’ he hisses, and my brother jumps after his son. Father shoots Ava and Mina a look, just to let them know he didn’t miss that Ava didn’t have a chaperone.
‘What should I have done, Father?’ I ask.
‘Unlike our local constabulary, we are not without resources,’ he says.
I feel my forehead creasing. ‘If you’re able to assist the police, please, you’ll do anything to help, surely?’
‘You can’t change tracks once the train has left the station.’ He stares me down.
You can, actually. But my stomach turns. He’s right about one thing. We are a family of considerable resource. My father and Tristan could’ve helped, before I went to the police. They could’ve gone straight to Georgia. But would that be legal? If she hadn’t wanted to speak, what could we have done to make her?
None of it makes sense. Nothing ever makes sense with this family.
I stare into the flames and press my cuts, concentrating on the cold sharp pain.
‘I’d like your phones, Ash and Ava,’ says Bevan, coming back in behind Ash and Tristan.
‘I’m afraid not,’ says Father. ‘You’ll need a warrant.’
Ava gasps.
‘Father!’ I clench my fists.
Croft leans against the table with a sigh. ‘We only need a warrant if Ash and Ava refuse to hand them over voluntarily.’
‘They’re my phones,’ says Father. ‘The contracts are in my name. You’ll need a warrant.’
