Necessary as Blood

the communal garden behind it by only an iron fence and gate. The communal garden, a long park with a terrace of houses on either side and high fences at the ends, was one of the great blessings of the house, and it had afforded both children and dogs many happy hours. A weathered wooden swing, courtesy of some previous neighbour, hung from one of the large trees near their patio garden.
    Toby banged out through the gate, followed by the dogs, which were riotous with freedom. While Toby climbed onto the swing, the dogs chased madly round in a circle. The sun had dropped behind the houses on the far side of the garden, and the light filtering through the trees was a soft, hazy gold. The air had cooled, and a breeze carried the scent of the night-blooming jasmine that Gemma had planted in a pot on the patio.
    Duncan came out through the dining-room doors, carrying two glasses of chilled white wine. ‘You left your phone in the kitchen. Betty just rang. She said she‘d be a bit later than she thought. I told her not to worry.‘
    Gingerly, Gemma lowered Charlotte to the patio and, when she sat down, Charlotte didn‘t climb back into her lap. Bob, her green plush elephant, had been left behind in the kitchen.
    Watching Toby and the dogs intently, Charlotte whispered, ‘Georgy. Teth.‘
    Kit came out, tucking his phone in his jeans pocket with one hand. In the other, he held a plastic tube filled with the dogs‘ favourite squeaky tennis balls. Squatting by Charlotte, he took a ball out and squeaked it for her in demonstration. She giggled. ‘Would you like to throw the ball for the dogs?‘ he asked.
    Charlotte looked up at Gemma, who nodded encouragement. ‘You go on, lovey.‘
    When Kit held out a hand, Charlotte took it, and together they went through the gate. She was hesitant at first, but Kit helped her toss the ball, and soon she was running with the boys and the dogs, squealing with glee. Her brown legs were still toddler-chubby beneath her pink shorts.
    Lights began to come on in the houses across the garden as Duncan sank down in the chair beside Gemma‘s and picked up his wine. ‘My God,‘ he said, watching the children. ‘She is lovely, isn‘t she?‘ There was a hint of apology in his tone. ‘You were right, you know,‘ he added softly. ‘I‘d hate to see her go to someone who didn‘t care for her properly.‘
    ‘I went to see Roy Blakely today,‘ said Gemma, seeing her opening.
    ‘Blakely?‘
    ‘Sandra‘s friend on Columbia Road. The one she left Charlotte with that day.‘ She glanced at him. ‘You didn‘t tell me I couldn‘t.‘
    ‘Cheeky.‘ He gave her knee a gentle pinch. ‘So what did you find out?‘
    ‘Gail Gilles was a lousy mother.‘
    ‘And you‘re surprised?‘
    Gemma shrugged. ‘Roy Blakely has known her since they were children. He wouldn‘t be very comfortable testifying against her in a family court, but he‘s not happy with the idea of her taking Charlotte, either.‘
    ‘Did he give you anything specific about the brothers?‘
    ‘No,‘ Gemma said, not disguising her disappointment. ‘But he told me that Sandra hadn‘t been getting on with her former dealer‘ — seeing Duncan‘s startled glance, she clarified — ‘art dealer, I mean. And so I, um, went to see her, too.‘
    ‘Unofficially?‘ Kincaid asked, raising an eyebrow. Gemma sipped her wine. ‘Unofficially.‘
    ‘And?‘
    ‘Her name is Pippa Nightingale, and she‘s... interesting. She seemed genuinely distressed by Naz‘s death, because she seems to think it means Sandra really isn‘t coming back. Guilty conscience over her falling-out with Sandra, it sounds like, although she still couldn‘t help sounding bitter over their disagreement. She felt Sandra didn‘t take her art seriously enough — more or less accused her of being an interior designer rather than an artist. And she heard the news about Naz from Lucas Ritchie. It seems they were all three mates from art-college days, although I think Pippa is a bit older.‘
    ‘Ah, Lucas Ritchie,‘ Duncan said meditatively. ‘Interesting bloke.‘
    Gemma turned towards him. ‘What? You met him? What‘s he like?‘
    ‘Very polished. Very credible. Sandra‘s art prominently displayed in his very posh club, which seems, on the surface, to be above board. And he seems, at least on first pass, to have an alibi for the day of Naz‘s death. As does Ahmed Azad, by the way.‘
    ‘Azad could have hired goons,‘ Gemma suggested. ‘So