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Back The Couple at Number 9: a Novel
Chapters (71)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Part One
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. Part Two
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. Part Three
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. Part Four
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. Acknowledgments
  68. About the Author
  69. Praise for Claire Douglas and The Couple at Number 9
  70. Also by Claire Douglas
  71. About the Publisher

He sighs. ‘Not at the moment. But, like I’ve said, we’re just trying to ascertain as much as we can at this stage about who was living at the property and when. We are also working hard to identify the bodies. Once we know who they were and when exactly they died, it will be easier to –’

They are interrupted by the gurgling sounds of liquid being sucked through a straw and they turn in time to see DC Worthing polishing off his takeaway milkshake. Lorna glares at him and he has the grace to look shamefaced. ‘I’ll meet you in the car, Guv,’ he says, scuttling out of the building.

Guv? Really? She rolls her eyes. DS Barnes notices because he says, deadpan, ‘He’s new. I think he’s watched too many episodes of The Sweeney.’

Her lips twitch but she refuses to laugh. He’s not getting off that lightly.

She shuffles her feet. One of her sandals is rubbing her recent blister. ‘So what happens next?’

He gives her a long look that she can’t read. She wonders if it’s pity. ‘We’ll be in touch.’

14

Saffy

WHEN WE GET BACK TOM IS STILL AT WORK SO MUM SAYS she’ll start on dinner and I take Snowy for a walk. It’s still warm, the sun flickering through the trees. As I stroll past number eight Brenda Morrison comes scurrying out, still in her sheepskin slippers. ‘Oi, I want a word with you!’ she says, scowling.

I stop and try to smile politely, turning towards her. I’ve never taken to Brenda, or her husband, Jack. Neither made us feel particularly welcome when we moved in. Not to mention them opposing the build. They’re always complaining about something: the position of our rubbish bin, the sound of the builders drilling, Snowy barking in the garden.

‘How are you, Brenda?’ I ask.

‘Not good. I’m fed up with those journalists coming over all the time. Last week there was one in our back garden, taking photos over our fence. It’s just not on. It’s making my Jack’s acid reflux play up.’

‘I’m really sorry – I hate them being here too.’

‘We’ve lived here nigh on thirty year and have never known the like.’

‘I don’t know what they’re hoping to achieve. There’s no new information and there might not be for some time,’ I say. DS Barnes said earlier about trawling through missing persons between 1970 and 1990 to try to identify the bodies. It could take months.