a name like that,â he said. He helped himself to three chocolate digestives, then paused. âIs it OK,â he said. âIâm starving.â
Claraâs smile was genuine this time. âMaybe I could make sandwiches?â
They exchanged glances. What was it about grief, Patrick wondered, that made you not want to eat and then suddenly ravenous.
âUm, no, itâs all right,â Charlie began.
âLook, Iâd like to. It would be kind of ⦠normal.â
Patrick picked up the tray again. âWeâll all help,â he said. âWhat else did the police take away?â
It felt strange, he thought, to be talking about âpoliceâ in the abstract, when he now knew it had been Alec that had carried out the search.
âThose two boxes, his computer, mobile phone, that sort of thing.â She shrugged. âTo be honest, I stopped watching after a while. I just couldnât bear it. They were hoping one of you would know the password to his email account, I think.â
âI know what it
was
,â Charlie mused. âBut he was always changing it. Usually to something stupid. I donât think he used it that much anyway, we all used to text or use
chat
online.â
âHe didnât mention anyone. Anyone else he might have been in contact with?â
âNothing.â Becky told her. âI wish he had.â
Patrick was thinking hard. âRob wasnât secretive,â he said. âI mean, he could never keep anything to himself, could he. Youâd tell him something and next minute heâd blurt it out, then get all defensive when he remembered heâd been meant to keep his mouth shut. Oh,â he added, seeing the sudden anxiety in Claraâs eyes. âI donât mean big stuff, I mean â¦â
âLike if someone fancied someone,â Becky explained. âYouâd never tell Rob, not unless you wanted everyone to know. He just didnât think.â
Clara nodded, recognizing the trait. âBut you think there was something. Something heâd been keeping back?â
Patrick nodded.
âYeah,â Charlie agreed reluctantly. âHe seemed edgy, impatient, got into rows with Becky and that wasnât normal.
Rob didnât like rows, they were too much bother.â
âBut you donât know what?â
Charlie sighed. âHe talked about his dad a time or two,â he said. âI mean, heâd talked about him before, about how he wondered who he was and sometimes ⦠sometimes he got really annoyed that you wouldnât tell him anything.â
âAnd he said something about a letter heâd found,â Becky added suddenly.
âFound?â
Becky looked embarrassed. She looked to the others for support.
âBecky,â Clara said patiently. âDo you honestly think anything you could tell me now would be worse than what I already know?â
Impulsively, Becky reached out and grasped Claraâs hand. âNo,â she admitted. âI donât suppose it would be. I just â¦â She laughed nervously, âGod thisâll sound stupid. I donât want anyone to think badly of him, you know?â
Clara patted her hand. âI know,â she said. âHave you told the police anything youâve not told me?â
They shifted uncomfortably. âNo,â Becky said. âWe told them Rob had said something about a letter.â
âI think thatâs what they came here looking for.â
âBut we donât know what letter. Rob didnât say where heâd got it, but he said â¦â She took a deep breath. âHe said heâd got pissed off because you wouldnât talk to him about his dad, he said he had a right to know. We think, we think he went through your stuff one day when you were out.â
âWe only think that,â Charlie added. âWe really didnât know.â
Clara nodded. She crossed