The hair escaping from her baker’s-boy hat was the same shade as Kimberly’s, but beyond that he could see no resemblance. Anita’s appearance was one of deliberate chaos: over-accessorized and curly-permed, primary school teacher with a twist of Marc Bolan. She looked neither surprised nor fazed by the police presence in the house. ‘Is she upstairs?’ Gully nodded and Anita dropped her rucksack-sized handbag on to the settee, then plonked herself down next to it. ‘Does she know I’m here?’ Once more Gully nodded. ‘I can call her again.’ ‘No, she’ll come down when she’s ready, I’m quite sure.’ Anita looked directly at Marks and seemed to be assessing him in some way. He excused himself and disappeared back into the kitchen; as if on cue, Gully followed. Neither Anita nor Goodhew spoke. He was aware that Kimberly had been upstairs for some time, although probably less time than it seemed. On days like this, minutes ran at a different rate.
