‘Could you maybe help us write a letter?’
‘I’ll do what I can to help, but the local police are your best bet for direct communication with the council. My current inspector worked at Tottenham CID before being moved to the Flying Squad — he might know an experienced detective there you could talk to. I’ll have a word with him when I’m back at the office.’
‘Thank you, Jane. I appreciate your help — and so will Rachel.’
‘I don’t want to appear nosy, but can I ask how you ended up in a flat on the Broadwater?’
‘It was the only place Haringey Council offered us. We hadn’t seen it and didn’t know what the estate was like when we accepted it.’ She pointed across the road. ‘The sorting office is that way.’
Jane could see a railway bridge with a sign saying ‘Bruce Grove,’ then as they walked under the bridge, the street sign for Moorfield Road on her left and the Bluebird cafe on the corner of the junction with Bruce Grove.
‘That’s the cafe Rachel uses — the bingo and snooker hall are just up there on the other side of the road.’
Jane could tell from its shape and size that it had once been a large cinema.
As they turned into Moorfield Road, Jane noticed a menu stuck to the inside of the cafe window and pretended to look at it so she could see the layout of the interior. The premises were a reasonable size, with a lino floor and nine square wooden four-seater tables and chairs laid out in three rows of three. The tables were covered in red and white check plastic tablecloths, and on each one there was a red squeezy tomato-shaped sauce dispenser, pepper and salt shakers and a bowl of sugar lumps. The cooking and serving area were at the far end, and the cafe was about three quarters full of tradesmen having their lunch. Next to the menu was a notice saying: STAFF REQUIRED — MALE OR FEMALE — REASONABLE HOURLY RATES — APPLY WITHIN OR CALL NICK ON 808-9611.
As Jane got out her pocket notebook to jot down the name and phone number, two workmen got up from their table and left. The enticing smell of roast beef, potatoes and vegetables wafted out from the open door onto the street. One of the men did a thumbs-up to Emma and said, ‘All right, luv?’ but she ignored him. Jane recalled Emma had said that she’d never been in the cafe, but it seemed as if the man had recognized her.
Jane looked at her watch. ‘It’s nearly two o’clock, so we’d better make our way to the sorting office if we want to catch Rachel when she leaves work.’
‘It’s just around the corner. I’ll nip in and tell her who you are first, if that’s OK with you?’ Emma said as they approached the building.
Jane started to make a drawing of the layout of the Bluebird cafe in her pocket notebook while she waited. A few minutes later she saw Emma come out of the sorting office with Rachel, and was instantly struck by the resemblance between them. The only difference was that Rachel’s shoulder-length hair had some grey streaks in it and she was wearing a Post Office uniform under her open black mac.
‘Rachel, this is Jane Tennison.’
‘I’m pleased to meet you. It hadn’t dawned on me you were twins,’ Jane said.
‘Born identical, but different now we’re older,’ Emma remarked.
Rachel, with her right hand closed in a thumbs-up position, brushed her thumb along her chin before holding her index fingers upright in front of her body. She moved her fingers towards each other, so they touched and then pointed them at Jane, who was unsure what she was signing, apart from ‘hello.’
‘Rachel said she’s pleased to meet you,’ Emma told her.
Jane smiled as she shook hands with Rachel, then spoke slowly, accentuating her lip movements.
‘I’m very... pleased... to meet... you too—’
Emma interjected. ‘It’s OK, Jane, you can speak normally — it’s actually easier for Rachel to understand what you’re saying if you do.’
‘I’m sorry, I hope you weren’t offended.’
Rachel shrugged her shoulders and did some sign language to Emma.
‘She said she can’t hear you — so no offence taken.’
Jane smiled awkwardly at the joke. ‘Are you happy to talk to me about the men you saw in the cafe on Monday who you thought were talking about a robbery?’
She looked anxious and did some more sign language to Emma, who translated.
‘I told her you were investigating a robbery. Rachel’s very nervous and doesn’t want to talk about it near the cafe or in the police station.’
Jane looked at Rachel. ‘That’s totally understandable. We can do it at your flat if you like?’
Rachel nodded.
‘My car’s just up the road. Where do you live?’
‘She lives with me on the Broadwater Farm.’ Emma turned away from her sister and looked at Jane. ‘While I was in the sorting office she told me the same two men were in the cafe this morning.’
Driving Rachel and Emma to Broadwater Farm, Jane knew that Teflon and Cam would think she was mad going there on her own and was worried about parking her car on the estate. But she knew that every time the sisters left their flat, they risked verbal or physical abuse, and if they didn’t let it stop them going about their business, neither would she.
As Jane approached the estate, Emma told her it might be best if she left her car in a side street and they walked to the flat.
‘Your car’s really conspicuous and it might get damaged or stolen if you leave it on the estate.’ Emma pointed to a street on the right. ‘Your car will be safe down there.’
‘As it happens, my boss thinks my car looks like a custard tart,’ Jane remarked.
Emma laughed, turned to Rachel and repeated what Jane had said, but she didn’t smile.
Jane checked the rear-view mirror and could see Rachel was frowning and looking out of the window. She looked forward as she spoke to Emma.
‘Can Rachel talk at all?’
‘Being deaf she can’t hear what she says, so her voice is very monotone and sounds like she’s got a really bad throat. At first she tried speaking, but got fed up with people looking at her as if she was mentally ill.’
Jane wondered if Rachel wasn’t born deaf but felt awkward asking Emma, as if she was talking about Rachel behind her back.
Jane felt nervous walking through the estate, but thankfully there were only a few people about, who didn’t pay any attention to them. The lift door at Tangmere House was still stuck open, and although the pool of urine in it had dried out, the smell was still overpowering. Rachel pinched her nose and pulled a face, implying how bad it was.
‘Sorry about the state of the lifts,’ Emma said.
‘It’s not your fault. Is there no caretaker to clean or repair them?’
Emma sighed. ‘They’ve been advertising for a new caretaker for months, but no one wants the job. The engineers do come now and again to repair the lift but as soon as they have, the kids break it again.’
Jane shook her head sadly. ‘I can understand why you want to move away from here.’
‘The flats have been poorly maintained by the council, there are water leakages, damp and electrical faults. We recently had an infestation of cockroaches and me and Rachel had to deal with it ourselves. The walkways that connect the blocks are dangerous. They provide easy escape routes, so people often get robbed on them.’
As they walked up the stairs Jane realized how lucky she was to have a place of her own in a nice part of London. She’d taken a liking to Emma and Rachel, and it seemed so unfair that they should have to live on a rundown and crime-ridden estate. She suspected that even if she did put a word in with the council on the sisters’ behalf, they probably wouldn’t be given preferential treatment.
As Emma unlocked the flat door Rachel held her open hands, palms up, towards Jane. She bent her fingers back and forth at the knuckles in short, repeated movements, then put the tips of her fingers together to form the shape of a roof.