‘We had a garden three times this size before Reggie died,’ she says. ‘This is all I can cope with on my own.’
‘It’s lovely, Mrs Pober,’ says Anna, taking a chair.
‘Oh, Pauline, please,’ she says, flapping off a wasp. ‘Do you want a drink? I have some cold Stella in the fridge.’
‘Er, no thanks, not while we’re on duty,’ says Baxter in martyred tones.
‘So how can I help you, Officers? You said on the phone it was about that terrible accident in Lanzarote all those years back?’
‘That’s right,’ says Anna. ‘We were wondering if there’s anything you could tell us – anything that wasn’t in the press.’
Pauline sits back and wipes a hand across her brow. ‘Well, it was a powerful long time ago. I’m not sure how much help I can be.’
Anna looks at Baxter, who makes it quite clear that pursuing this particular feral poultry is her responsibility, not his.
Oh well, she thinks, in for a penny.
‘Did you have any contact with the Wileys before the accident, Pauline?’
‘I remember they were on the same flight as us. We’d done a fair bit of travelling by then, Reggie and me, but you could see they were complete novices. They’d brought this huge bag of sandwiches to eat on the plane, and a thermos, would you believe! Of course, this was long before 9/11. Mrs Wiley was clearly very apprehensive about flying. They were a couple of rows behind us and I could hear her all the way – I don’t think she was talking to anyone in particular. Just wittering away to relieve the nerves.’
‘What about the girls – Sharon and Jessica?’
Pauline smiles. ‘That Jessica was a little love. As soon as the seat-belt sign went off she was up and down the aisle the whole time, dragging this huge teddy bear behind her. She kept going up to people and asking what their names were. Terribly sweet. You could see the parents doted on her.’
‘And Sharon?’
Pauline takes a deep breath. ‘Well, fourteen isn’t an easy age, is it? Exams starting and periods and all that.’
Baxter’s face is a sight to behold.
‘And you were at the same hotel as well?’
‘Yes, and we did spot them occasionally, but to be honest, we’d gone for the birdwatching, not the beach. Reggie could never stand sitting around doing nothing. I used to say he had a bee up his bum.’
Anna grins. ‘I know a few blokes like that myself. So you didn’t really see much of the Wileys?’
‘They definitely kept themselves to themselves. I got the impression they’d never been to a hotel before either. It was little things – like not knowing it was a buffet for breakfast, and what to do about tips. And I didn’t see either of the parents in a swimsuit all week, even on the sand – it was slacks and a shirt for him and a sundress for her. It was sad, really, thinking about it now. It was as if they knew they should be enjoying themselves but hadn’t the first clue how to actually go about it.’
‘What happened that day – the day of the accident?’
‘Now that I do remember – it’s not something you’re likely to forget, is it? The hotel had laid on a beach party. They did it every Friday. Games for the kids and ice cream, and then a barbecue for the grown-ups in the evening. All perfectly nice. Some of the children were playing with the inflatable dinghies and I remember seeing Sharon and Jessica together in one with an octopus on the side. It was all part of the theme, I suppose. Anyway, sometime later, one of the young waiters started asking where they were and it turned out no one had seen them for a least half an hour. And then, Lord, all hell broke loose. Mrs Wiley was screaming and Mr Wiley was shouting at the staff, and then someone said they thought they could see the dinghy out beyond the swimming area and Mr Wiley had torn off his shirt and run into the sea before anyone could stop him.’
She shakes her head, remembering.
‘A lot of the younger dads went into the water after him, and that was just as well, because he only got a few yards out before he was completely out of breath. Someone had to help him back. It was two of the waiters who got out to the dinghy. Only by that time both the girls were in the water.’ She sighs. ‘I guess you know the rest.’
‘How were the Wileys afterwards?’
‘What do you call those things that won’t die? Zombies. That’s it. Zombies. They looked like their whole world had caved in. Back then, you didn’t get the sort of support the travel companies offer these days, so those poor people just trailed about in the hotel till their flight home. Turning up to meals and not eating. Sitting in the lobby staring into space. It was pitiful.’
‘And Sharon?’
‘Oh, she was very shaken. I was there when they brought her back to the beach. She must have swallowed a lot of seawater because she was horribly sick. But after she came back from the hospital, I don’t think I saw either of her parents speak a word to her. Apart from once. There was some activity or other in the hotel – I’ve forgotten what – and Sharon must have wanted to take part, because suddenly, in the middle of breakfast, her father stands up and bellows at her that she should show some respect – that it’s all her fault and he wishes she’d died instead of Jessica. And then he threw down his napkin and walked out. That was the last time I saw them.’
She sighs. ‘That poor girl. That poor, poor girl. I often wondered how things turned out for her.’
There’s a silence, and then suddenly Pauline edges forward in her chair, looking at the two of them in open suspicion. ‘That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? I can’t believe I didn’t realize – Sharon – that’s the name of that woman whose daughter has gone missing. Daisy – that’s her, isn’t it? That’s why you’re here.’
‘Well,’ begins Anna, but Pauline’s still speaking.
‘You don’t think it was an accident at all, do you? You think she killed her sister, and now she’s killed her little girl – ’
‘We don’t know anything for certain, Mrs Pober,’ says Baxter. ‘It’s an ongoing investigation – ’
‘I know what that means, young man. It means you think she did it but you can’t prove it. And now you want me to help tip the balance against her.’
‘We just need to have all the information we can,’ says Anna gently.
Pauline gets to her feet, visibly trembling. ‘I think you’d better go now.’
It’s an uneasy exit for all three of them. At the front step, Anna turns to offer her thanks, but the door is already closing.
‘Mrs Pober? Can I ask one more thing – it’s not about Sharon, I promise.’
The door opens a little, just a little.
‘You said the beach party had a theme. Something to do with the decoration on the dinghy?’
Pauline nods, but she’s on her guard now. ‘It was the Octopus’s Garden.’
‘Like the Beatles song? So there were fish decorations, shells, seahorses – stuff like that?’
‘That sort of thing, yes. And the younger children could dress up if they wanted.’
‘Really?’ says Anna, taking a step closer. ‘It was fancy dress, was it? What was Jessica wearing?’
***
27 July 1991
Hotel La Marina, Lanzarote
The girl wakes early on the first morning of the holiday. Everyone else is still asleep. She slips out of the small roll-away bed she is sharing with her sister and dresses quickly, careful not to wake her parents. Her father is lying on his back, snoring, and her mother’s face looks fretful, even in sleep. She picks up her yellow flip-flops and closes the door quietly behind her. She hesitates for a moment, trying to remember which way the stairs were. There’s a lift too, but she’s never used one of those, and she’s frightened of getting stuck in it on her own. Her father made them walk up three flights when they arrived last night, huffing and blowing and stopping at every turn on the stair.