Page 46 of High Season
M Allard:And would you describe Nina as a truthful child?
E Drayton:Of course. She’s achild.Have you ever seen a child try to lie?
M Allard:What do you mean by that?
E Drayton:I have three children, Inspector Allard, and let me tell you, Nina’s the worst liar of all of them. She has this look on her face when she lies, like she’s waiting to get caught. You can spot it a mile off. Tamara, on the other hand, now, Tamara was different. She was always so smart, right from when she was tiny. She could tell little white lies, little fibs. Her dad always used to say she was manipulative, and I used to tell him he was mad. Kids can’t be manipulative. But he swore she was. Not like other kids—you know, kids lie and say they haven’t had any treats today so that they get a second bag ofsweets, or say that they’ve already brushed their teeth so that they don’t have to. Tamara wasn’t like that. Tamara’s lies were bigger. She—I’m sorry. It’s hard. Talking about her. But she was so clever, even when she was very young. Her dad didn’t like it, but I did. I’d look at her, and I’d find it so impressive. She’s going to be brilliant, I used to think. She’s going to have people wrapped round her finger.
M Allard:I know this is hard, Ms. Drayton.
E Drayton:You asked me about Nina, and I’m telling you. Nina doesn’t lie. Ninacan’tlie.
M Allard:And what were your impressions of Josie Jackson? I understand you knew her quite well.
E Drayton:Not well, no. Her mother worked for us. It’s not as if we knew her socially. But yes, she was strange. Quiet. Moody. Most teenagers are, of course, but Josie was worse than most. She was rude, too, one of those kids who talks back, thinks they’re smarter than they are. I only really gave her work because her mother’s been with us for such a long time. And Nina loved her, of course.
M Allard:She was at your house often?
E Drayton:A few days a week, in summer. Although she used to hang around a lot, even when she wasn’t working. That’s what I found so odd about her. I found her sneaking around the place a couple of times, did I tell you that? Just hanging around the house, when she had no business being there. Oh, she always had an excuse. Had always left something somewhere, or said she thought her mum was here when clearly she wasn’t. I used to find it strange, but I suppose I didn’t think much of it. God, I wish I had done now. I wish I’d challenged her.
M Allard:And were you aware of any relationship or rivalry between Josie and Tamara?
E Drayton:God, no. In fact, I always warned Tamara and Blake to stay away from her. The local kids around here—well. They’re feral. I didn’t want my children thinking people like Josie Jackson werefriends, just because they were often around. Blake used to mix with people like Josie sometimes, but not Tamara. In fact, Tamara actively avoided Josie, more or less. So, actually, yes, maybe there was—notarivalrybecause Tamara was worlds above Josie, of course. You couldn’t compare them. But a… I don’t know. A dislike? Maybe.
M Allard:Can you tell me more about that?
E Drayton:Look, really, the last person I want to be talking about right now is her. And to be honest you shouldn’t be talking to me again. You should be talking to Josie bloody Jackson. Because that bitch killed my daughter. And she needs to pay for what she did.
FIFTEEN
2024
Nic is already seated at an outdoor table when Josie arrives at the restaurant. There are white tablecloths, railings wound with ivy, waiters in buttoned-up shirts. Beyond the terrace, the sea is a hazy shade of gold. It’s a notoriously expensive place, the kind Josie’s mum would once talk longingly about visiting but could never afford. Not that Josie can afford it either. She had balked when Nic had suggested it.I’m kind of broke at the minute, she had texted him back. His reply had been swift:My treat x
“Hi,” she says when a waiter shows her to the table.
Nic stands, his chair scraping back against the ground. He looks different, in a pale blue shirt and chinos. Older. He leans in to kiss Josie on the cheek.
“You look great,” he says.
“Thanks.” Josie plucks at the lengths of the lilac tie-dyed dress that falls to her feet. “It’s actually Gabby’s. She lent it to me.”
She had only had a few going-out outfits from Paris. Figure-hugging black dresses, skin-tight jeans. City clothes. Nothing that had felt right out here.
Nic laughs. “Only round here,” he says, “could you go on a date with someone and she turns up in your ex-girlfriend’s dress.”
The waiter pulls out Josie’s chair and she lowers herself down. “She was pleased,” she says. “That we were going out tonight, I mean.”
It had pained her, how delighted Gabby and Calvin had been when she had told them. Gabby clapped her hands together, and Calvin’s shoulders seemed to soften, as if he had been holding a weight on them this whole time.
“Nic’s a good guy,” he said over and over, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. As if he was floored by the relief of someone good wanting his sister.
Nic nods.
“He worries about you, I think.”
“He’s got nothing to worry about. I’m good. Better than ever.”
The waiter arrives to hand Nic a wine list.
