Page 54 of Worse Than Murder
‘No. They were bright and attentive. They listened and did their work.’
‘Did they have friends?’
‘Yes. The whole class was friendly. There was no bullying.’
‘None at all?’
‘No. It was a fun group of children.’
‘What about Lynne and Jack, the twins’ parents? What did you think of them?’
‘I… they seemed nice enough. They were interested in the girls when it came to projects and parents’ evening, that kind of thing.’
I adjust myself on the sofa. It’s not very comfortable. ‘In the run up to Celia and Jennifer going missing, did you notice anything different about their behaviour?’
‘In what way?’
‘I don’t know. Something that might stand out.’
Damien looks away and frowns as he thinks. ‘I… No. I don’t think so. Actually, yes. Jennifer fell down in the playground. She ran and tripped, nothing major, but she kept saying for a couple of weeks that her arm was hurting. I looked at it; I had basic first aid training and, when I pressed it, looking for a bruise, she cried out in pain. She’d only grazed it when she fell.’
‘Was she bruised?’ I ask.
‘No. But she was clearly in pain.’
‘Did you mention it to her parents?’
‘No. School broke up for the summer holiday a couple of days later.’
‘Where were you on the day the girls went missing?’ Tania asks.
‘I was on holiday in Cornwall.’
‘Oh. Nice. On your own?’
‘Yes.’
‘Isn’t that a bit odd?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘A twenty-four-year-old going on holiday on his own? At that age I had loads of friends. We were always going away together.’
‘Maybe I wasn’t as confident as you were at that age,’ Damien says, slightly acidic.
‘On the day in question, 11 August,’ I begin. ‘Can you remember exactly what you were doing?’
‘Am I a suspect?’
Tania opens her mouth to say something, but she has a confrontational style of questioning, and I think Damien needs a gentler hand. I jump in first.
‘We’re trying to establish where the main people in Jennifer and Celia’s life were at the time they disappeared.’
‘I’ve already said. I was in Cornwall.’
‘On the day they disappeared, 11 August, can you rememberexactlywhere you were?’ I ask again, slowly.
‘No. Can you remember where you were on 11 August 1992?’
