‘Oh – I see. Damn. I thought we might be working together.’ Julian flashed a smile at her. He lowered his voice, confidentially. ‘They called me in, to give them a hand.’

Mariana guessed what he was talking about, but she felt a sense of dread all the same. She didn’t want it confirmed, but had no choice.

‘It’s Tara Hampton. Isn’t it?’

Julian gave her a slight look of surprise, and nodded. ‘That’s right. She was identified just now. How did you know?’

Mariana shrugged. ‘She’s been missing for a day or so. My niece told me.’

She realised her eyes had filled with tears, and she quickly wiped them away. She fixed her gaze on Julian. ‘Any leads yet?’

‘No.’ Julian shook his head. ‘Not yet. Soon, hopefully. The sooner, the better, quite frankly. It was horribly violent.’

‘Do you think she knew him?’

Julian nodded. ‘It seems likely. We usually reserve that level of anger for our nearest and dearest, don’t you think?’

‘Possibly.’ Mariana mulled it over.

‘Ten to one it’s her boyfriend.’

‘I don’t think she had a boyfriend.’

Julian checked his watch. ‘I’ve got to meet the chief inspector now, but you know, I’d be happy to discuss this further … perhaps over a drink?’ He smiled. ‘Good to see you, Mariana. It’s been years. We should catch up—’

But Mariana was already walking away. ‘Sorry, Julian – I have to find my niece.’

13

Zoe’s room was in Eros Court – one of the smaller courtyards, consisting of student accommodation built around a rectangular lawn.

In the centre of the lawn stood a discoloured statue of Eros clutching a bow and arrow. Centuries of rain and rust had aged him considerably, turning him from a cherub into a small, old green man.

All the way around the courtyard, various staircases led off to the student rooms. A tall grey stone turret stood in each corner. As Mariana approached one of the turrets, she glanced up at the third-floor window and saw Zoe sitting there.

Zoe hadn’t seen her, and Mariana stood there, watching her for a moment. The arched windows were latticed, with diamond-shaped panes of glass set in lead; the small panes broke up Zoe’s image, fracturing it into a jigsaw of diamond shapes – and, for a second, Mariana assembled another image from the jigsaw: not a twenty-year-old woman but a girl of six, silly and sweet, red-faced, with pigtails.

Mariana felt such concern and affection for that little girl. Poor little Zoe – she had been through so much; Mariana dreaded having to hurt her further and break this terrible news. She shook her head, stopped procrastinating, and hurried into the turret.

She climbed the old, circular, warped wooden staircase up to Zoe’s room. The door was ajar, so she went inside.

It was a cosy little room – a little messy at present, with clothes strewn on the armchairs and dirty cups in the sink. There was a writing desk, a small fireplace, and a cushioned seat in the bay window, where Zoe was sitting, surrounded by books.

When she saw Mariana, she let out a little cry. She leapt up and threw herself into Mariana’s arms.

‘You came. I didn’t think you’d come.’

‘Of course I came.’

Mariana tried to take a step backwards, but Zoe wouldn’t let go, and Mariana had no choice but to submit to the hug. She felt its warmth, its affection. It was so unfamiliar to be touched like this. She realised how happy she was to see Zoe. She felt quite emotional, suddenly.

After Sebastian, Zoe had always been Mariana’s favourite human being. She went to boarding school in England, and so Mariana and Sebastian had unofficially adopted her – Zoe had a bedroom in the little yellow house, and would stay over with them over half-term and during holidays. She was educated in England because her father had been English; Zoe, in fact, was only a quarter Greek. She had her father’s fair colouring and his blue eyes – so it didn’t particularly show, this quarter Greekness; Mariana used to wonder how and if it would one day manifest itself – that’s if it hadn’t been smothered by the great wet blanket of an English private school education.

Zoe eventually released Mariana from the hug. And, as gently as she could, Mariana broke the news about Tara’s body being identified.

Zoe stared at her. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she took in the news. Mariana pulled her back into her arms. Zoe clung to her as she wept.

‘It’s okay,’ Mariana whispered. ‘Everything’s going to be okay.’

She slowly guided Zoe to the bed and sat her down. When Zoe managed to stop sobbing, Mariana made them some tea. She washed out a couple of mugs in the small sink, and boiled the kettle.

All the time, Zoe sat upright in bed, her knees up against her chest, staring into space, not bothering to wipe away the tears that rolled down her cheeks. She was clutching her ancient soft toy – a battered black-and-white-striped zebra. Zebra had one eye missing and was falling apart at the seams – having been Zoe’s companion since she was a baby, suffering much abuse and receiving much love. Zoe held onto him now, squeezing him tight, rocking back and forth.

Mariana placed the steaming mug of sweet tea on the cluttered coffee table. She watched Zoe with concern. The truth was Zoe had suffered badly from depression as a teenager. She had frequent fits of crying, punctuated by low, flat, emotionless moods, too depressed even to cry – which Mariana found harder to deal with than the tears. It was difficult to reach Zoe during those years, although her problems were hardly surprising, given the traumatic loss of her parents at such a young age.

Zoe had been staying with them during that half-term, one April, when they received the phone call that would change her life forever. Sebastian answered the phone, and had to tell Zoe that her parents, Mariana’s sister and her husband, had been killed in a car crash. Zoe broke down, and Sebastian reached out and held her close. From then on, he and Mariana had doted on Zoe, probably a little too much – but having lost her own mother, Mariana felt determined to provide Zoe with everything she herself had longed for at a young age: maternal love, warmth, affection. It went both ways, of course – she felt Zoe gave back as much love as she received.

Eventually, to their relief, bit by bit, Zoe managed to turn the corner on her grief – as she grew older, she suffered from depression less; she was able to apply herself at school, finishing her adolescence in much better shape than she had started it. But Mariana and Sebastian both had been worried how Zoe would cope with the social pressures of university – so when she made a close friend in Tara, they were relieved. And later on, after Sebastian died, Mariana was grateful Zoe had a best friend to lean on. Mariana didn’t have one; she had just lost him.

But now, this new loss of Tara – the horrific loss of a good friend – how would it affect Zoe? That remained to be seen.

‘Zoe, here, drink some tea. It’s for the shock.’

No response.

‘Zoe?’

Zoe suddenly seemed to hear her. She looked up at Mariana with glassy eyes, filled with tears.

‘It’s my fault,’ she whispered. ‘It’s all my fault she’s dead.’

‘Don’t say that. It’s not true—’

‘It is true. Listen to me. You don’t understand.’

‘Understand what?’

Mariana sat on the edge of the bed, and waited for Zoe to go on.

‘It’s my fault, Mariana. I should have done something – that night – after I saw Tara – I should have told someone – I should have phoned the police. Then she might still be alive …’

‘The police? Why?’

Zoe didn’t reply. Mariana frowned.

‘What did Tara say to you? You said – she sounded crazy?’

Zoe’s eyes welled up with tears. She rocked back and forth in morose silence. Mariana knew the best approach was simply to be present, and patient, and let Zoe unburden herself in her own time. But there was no time. She spoke in a low voice, reassuring but firm.

‘What did she say to you, Zoe?’

‘I shouldn’t have told you. Tara made me swear not to tell anyone.’

‘I understand – you don’t want to betray her confidence. But I’m afraid it’s too late for that.’

Zoe stared at her. As Mariana looked into her face, her cheeks flushed and eyes wide, she saw the eyes of a child: a little girl, scared, bursting with a secret she didn’t want to keep, but was too afraid to tell.

Then, eventually, Zoe gave in.

‘The night before last, Tara came and found me in my room. She was a real mess. She was high on something, I don’t know what. She was really upset … And she said – she was afraid …’

‘Afraid? Of what?’

‘She said – someone was going to kill her.’

Mariana stared at Zoe for a second. ‘Go on.’

‘She made me promise not to tell anyone – she said if I said anything, and he found out, he’d kill her.’

‘“He”? Who was she talking about? Did she say who threatened to kill her?’

Zoe nodded – but didn’t answer.

Mariana repeated the question. ‘Who was it, Zoe?’

Zoe shook her head, unsure. ‘She sounded so crazy—’

‘It doesn’t matter, just tell me.’

‘She said – it was one of the tutors here. A professor.’