Forget Me Never

needs MSG first.’
    Rolling my eyes, I followed him downstairs. Effie was by the door, about to head out. After laying down a few house rules, which Reece no doubt already knew and were probably said for my benefit, she disappeared, leaving us with Neve.
    Reece picked up the phone and ordered some chow mein, seaweed, sweet and sour pork, black bean beef and prawn crackers.
    ‘Yum,’ he said. ‘They give massive portions, this place. We’ll be stuffed.’
    ‘Like turkeys,’ said Neve happily.
    ‘Hooray,’ I said.
    Catching me looking at him, Reece said, ‘Look, I’ll come with you – purely because it’ll be more interesting than what I was planning on doing. Happy?’
    I supposed it was too much to hope that he’d agree with me. It was funny – since we’d started talking, the posh note in his voice had gone. He sounded more like the old Reece. Well, better him on my side than no one. I was normally good at doing difficult things by myself, but this was something I’d rather not face alone.

REECE
    Sophie left straight after we’d eaten. As soon as I was sure she was well gone I grabbed a cushion and gave it a good pummelling. When I’d let off enough steam I threw it on the carpet and switched the telly on to an angry rock radio station. Neve shrank back, looking worried. Quickly I turned the volume down.
    ‘I’m not mad at you, sweetie,’ I said. ‘It’s just teenager stuff. You wouldn’t understand.’
    Sophie was messing me about and I didn’t like it. She’d waltzed back into my life, assuming my help was hers for the taking. The stubborn part of me had wanted to say no – smack rejection in her face and see how she liked it. But I couldn’t help hoping the Danielle stuff was just an excuse for getting in contact.
    I was half annoyed I hadn’t given her a rougher time. I’d just been nice and helpful, two things I’m usually very definitely not. Perhaps it was unfair, but it felt like I’d been taken advantage of. I got how horrible it was for Sophie to lose Danielle, and what a struggle dealing with grief was – I’d gone through it with my dad. I also got how rubbish it was to be left questioning whether the death was as clear cut as everyone said. It just would have made all the difference to hear an apology for the months she’d ignored me.
    Naff all was going to happen with the police tomorrow. Shooting theories was one thing, and Soph was right in saying there were things that didn’t add up, but it was way too fanciful to seriously believe Aiden Anderson turning up had anything to do with Danielle jumping off that balcony. That would make it murder – a huge accusation. While I’d never say so to Sophie, I’d always thought Danielle was a bit of a fruitcake – shoving ice cream and sweets in our faces like we were Neve’s age. Acting like she adored Sophie one minute, then vanishing for months on end the next. But despite everything I had liked her, though I couldn’t say I really got her, not like Sophie did.
    I was far more curious about what would happen when we were done with the police. Would Sophie walk away from me again? Or would she want to make up? And where might that lead?

SOPHIE
    I spent most of the next morning in Save the Animals sorting through bags of donations, picking out the items we could sell. Doing something brainless is the best therapy sometimes.
    At two o’clock I met Reece outside Hendon Central station. He was holding a white paper bag and a bottle of lemon Lucozade.
    ‘Went to one of the Jewish bakeries,’ he said, mouth full. It was hard to make out what he was saying over the roar of the traffic. ‘Want a spinach boreka?’
    ‘Spinach? Gross! Why d’you always choose the disgusting flavours? The sweet ones are much nicer.’
    ‘Cos I don’t want you scoffing my lunch, that’s why. Hendon hasn’t changed much, has it? Same old dump.’ He swallowed. ‘OK, my stomach’s happy now. Let’s do this.’
    It was cool inside the police station, a welcome change from the baking heat. The foyer needed renovating; the plastic chairs in the waiting room looked like they belonged in a school, and the walls were a mucky cream colour I guessed had once been white. No wonder they were plastered with posters.
    The officer at the front desk gave us a sceptical look – probably already thinking we were time-wasters. ‘Can I help?’
    ‘Yeah,’ I said, wetting my lips. ‘Four months ago there was a suicide your Bournemouth colleagues