Sophie Kinsella - Twenties Girl

“Several times!” she says airily. “The first time was for dancing in the village fountain one night. It was too funny.” She starts to giggle. “We had some mock handcuffs, you know, as part of a fancy dress costume, and while the policeman was hauling me out of the pond, my friend Bunty locked her handcuffs round him as a lark. He was livid!”

She’s in paroxysms of laughter by now. God, she’s annoying.

“I’m sure it was hilarious.” I shoot her a baleful look. “But, personally, I’d rather not go to jail and catch some hideous disease, thank you.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have to if you had a better story.” Her laughter stops. “I’ve never seen such a ninny. You weren’t credible or consistent. At this rate they won’t even proceed with the investigation. We won’t have any time.”

“Time for what?”

“Time to find my necklace , of course.”

I drop my head down on the table with a clunk. She doesn’t give up, does she?

“Look,” I say at last, raising my head an inch. “Why do you need this necklace so badly? Why this one particular necklace? Was it a present or something?”

For a moment she’s silent, her eyes distant. The only movement in the room is her feet, swinging rhythmically back and forth.

“It was a present from my parents for my twenty-first birthday,” she says at last. “I was happy when I wore it.”

“Well, that’s nice,” I say. “But-”

“I had it all my life. I wore it all my life.” She sounds suddenly agitated. “No matter what else I lost, I kept that. It’s the most important thing I ever had. I need it.”

She’s fidgeting with her hands, her face tilted down so all I can see is the corner of her chin. She’s so thin and pale, she looks like a drooping flower. I feel a pang of sympathy for her, and am about to say, “Of course I’ll find your necklace,” when she yawns elaborately, stretching her skinny arms above her head, and says, “This is too dull. I wish we could go to a nightclub.”

I glare at her, all my sympathy gone. Is this the gratitude I get?

“If you’re so bored,” I say, “we can go and finish your funeral if you like.”

Sadie claps a hand over her mouth and gasps. “You wouldn’t.”

“I might.”

A knock at the door interrupts us, and a jolly-looking woman in a dark shirt and trousers puts her head around it. “Lara Lington?”

An hour later, I’ve finished giving my so-called “statement.” I’ve never had such a traumatic experience in my life. What a shambles.

First I forgot the name of the nursing home. Then I got my timings all wrong and had to convince the policewoman it had taken me five minutes to walk half a mile. I ended up saying I was training to be a professional speed walker. Just thinking about it makes me cringey and hot. There’s no way she believed me. I mean, do I look like a professional speed walker?

Then I said I’d been to my friend Linda’s before visiting the pub. I don’t even have a friend called Linda; I just didn’t want to mention any of my real friends. She wanted Linda’s surname, and I blurted out “Davies” before I could stop myself.

Of course, I’d read it off the top of the form. She was DC Davies.

At least I didn’t say “Keyser Söze.”

To her credit, the policewoman didn’t flicker. Nor did she say whether they would proceed with the case. She just thanked me politely and found me the number of a cab firm.

I’ll probably go to jail now. Great. All I need.

I glower at Sadie, who’s lying full length on the desk, staring up at the ceiling. It really didn’t help having her in my ear the whole time, constantly correcting me and adding suggestions and reminiscing about the time two policemen tried to stop her and Bunty “racing their motors over the fields” and couldn’t catch up with them; it was “ too funny.”

“You’re welcome,” I say. “Again.”

“Thank you.” Sadie’s voice drifts idly over.

“Right, well.” I pick up my bag. “I’m off.”

In one quick movement, Sadie sits up. “You won’t forget my necklace, will you?”

“I doubt I will, my entire life.” I roll my eyes. “However hard I try.”

Suddenly she’s in front of me, blocking my way to the door. “No one can see me except you. No one else can help me. Please.”

“Look, you can’t just say, ‘Find my necklace!’” I exclaim in exasperation. “I don’t know anything about it, I don’t know what it looks like…”

“It’s made of glass beads with rhinestones,” she says eagerly. “It falls to here…” She gestures at her waist. “The clasp is inlaid mother-of-pearl-”

“Right.” I cut her off. “Well, I haven’t seen it. If it turns up, I’ll let you know.”

I swing past her, push the door open into the police-station foyer, and take out my phone. The foyer is brightly lit, with a grubby linoleum floor and a desk, which right now is empty. Two huge guys in hoodies are having a loud argument while a policeman is trying to calm them down, and I back away to what looks like a safe corner. I get out the minicab firm number DC Davies gave me and start keying it into my phone. I can see there are about twenty voice messages on there, but I ignore them all. It’ll just be Mum and Dad, stressing away…

“Hey!” A voice interrupts me and I pause midway through. “Lara? Is that you?”

A guy with sandy hair in a polo neck and jeans is waving at me. “It’s me! Mark Phillipson? Sixth-form college?”

“Mark!” I exclaim, suddenly recognizing him. “Oh my God! How are you doing?”

The only thing I remember about Mark is him playing bass guitar in the college band.

“I’m fine! Great.” He comes across with a concerned expression. “What are you doing at the police station? Is everything OK?”

“Oh! Yes, I’m fine. I’m just here for a… you know.” I wave it off. “Murder thing.”

“Murder?” He looks staggered.

“Yeah. But it’s no big deal. I mean, obviously it is a big deal…” I correct myself hastily at his expression. “I’d better not say too much about it… Anyway, how are you doing?”

“Great! Married to Anna, remember her?” He flashes a silver wedding ring. “Trying to make it as a painter. I do this stuff on the side.”

“You’re a policeman?” I say disbelievingly, and he laughs.

“Police artist. People describe the villains, I draw them; it pays the rent… So how about you, Lara? Are you married? With somebody?”

For a moment I just stare back with a rictus smile.

“I was with this guy for a while,” I say at last. “It didn’t work out. But I’m fine about it now. I’m in a really good place, actually.”

I’ve clenched my plastic cup so hard, it’s cracked. Mark looks a bit disconcerted.

“Well… see you, Lara.” He lifts a hand. “Will you be OK getting home?”

“I’m calling a cab.” I nod. “Thanks. Nice to bump into you.”

“Don’t let him go!” Sadie’s voice in my ear makes me jump out of my skin. “He can help!”

“Shut up and leave me alone,” I mutter out of the corner of my mouth, shooting an even brighter smile at Mark. “Bye, Mark. Give my love to Anna.”

“He can draw the necklace! Then you’ll know what you’re looking for!” She’s suddenly right in front of me. “Ask him! Quickly!”

“No!”

“Ask him!” Her banshee voice is coming back, piercing my eardrum. “Ask-him-ask-him-ask-him-”

Oh, for God’s sake, she’s going to drive me insane.

“Mark!” I call, so loudly that the two guys in hoodies stop fighting and stare at me. “I’ve got this tiny favor to ask you, if you have a moment…”