17 Evie

17

I've decided there are two types of people in the world – the overachievers and those who want to see all the overachievers die in a flaming car crash. I fall into the second category. Florence falls into the first one.

Cyrus is always telling me I should look for the best in people instead of trying to find faults, or calling them liars, even if they lie all the time. ‘Absolute honesty is an impossible ideal,' he says. But I don't care if most people are well meaning and have a desire to be good. They also lie and cheat and steal and rarely show remorse when they get caught.

Cyrus says I'm being a hypocrite, but I'm not being two-faced. I admit that I'm a liar. And I don't care if I'm unpopular. I'm not even sure that I want to be happy or in love. Love is for the birds and the bees and romantic comedies and soppy love songs and coming-of-age movies where the ugly duckling turns into a swan or the geek gets Invisalign braces and contact lenses and is suddenly beautiful. Voilà! Life is good. Hand me a bucket!

Ogilvy has a hard-on for Florence. I mean that literally. He keeps adjusting his crotch like he's turning a sausage on a barbecue.

Florence sits close to me.

‘Don't say anything unless I give you permission,' she whispers. ‘And if you're not sure, say, "No comment."'

Ogilvy leans forward, putting his palms facing up on the table like we're going to hold hands and make a prayer circle.

‘Perhaps you could help me, Miss Cormac. I can't seem to find any record of your existence. No birth certificate. No medical records. No charge-sheet. No social security file. I'm not even sure that Evie Cormac is your real name.'

‘Is there a question in there somewhere?' asks Florence.

‘I'm a ward of the court,' I say. ‘My identity is protected.'

‘You're no longer a child.'

‘The protection order is ongoing.'

‘Why?'

‘People aren't supposed to know who I am.'

‘Are you someone famous?'

‘No.'

‘A protected witness?'

‘No.'

‘Do you have a passport?'

‘No.'

‘Where were you born?'

‘I don't see why this is relevant,' says Florence. ‘You have Evie's name and address.'

‘Which could be fake.'

Florence gives him a mocking laugh. Ogilvy colours slightly and moves on.

‘You said that you'd met Finn Radford before.'

‘We didn't really meet. I was on a fishing trawler with my mother and sister and other migrants.'

‘How many?'

‘I can't remember.'

‘More than ten?'

‘Yes.'

‘Twenty?'

‘Yes.'

‘Thirty?'

‘No.'

‘What was the name of the boat?'

‘The Arianna II.'

‘That was twelve years ago, Miss Cormac. You seem very sure.'

‘My mother and sister died on the voyage.'

Ogilvy leans back. ‘That's a very serious allegation. You must have evidence – witnesses, letters, photographs – something that can corroborate what you're telling me.'

‘She was a child,' says Florence.

‘Exactly,' says the detective. ‘And children make things up.'

‘Angus Radford was the skipper of the trawler,' says Florence. ‘He's facing charges of deliberately sinking a small boat off the Lincolnshire coast. Seventeen people drowned.'

‘That doesn't make him sound like a people smuggler. Quite the opposite.' Ogilvy hasn't taken his eyes off me. ‘Did Finn Radford recognise you?'

‘Yes. I think so.'

‘Did he threaten you?'

‘He told us to leave.'

‘But you refused.'

Florence interrupts. ‘Excuse me, Sergeant, but you haven't offered one scrap of evidence to support any charges against my clients. A deeply troubled young man, with a history of alcoholism and depression, took his own life. Evie and Cyrus will sign statements to that effect. Unless you have something more, we're done here.'

She gets to her feet. Ogilvy tries to hold her gaze or to summon some killer one-liner that might restore his self-esteem but fails miserably. Florence is at the door.

‘Wait,' he says, before leaving the interview room. He returns a few minutes later with a typed one-page statement. I read the words. There's no mention of people smuggling or the sinking of the Arianna or why we visited Finn Radford. Does my signature make it the truth?

‘You were amazing,' I whisper to Florence, as we leave the room.

‘Did you notice anything unusual about that interview?' she asks.

‘How you torched him?'

‘He didn't have the recording equipment switched on.'