Excuse me, Nelson pushes past them into the main room.
The search doesnt take long. The flat is tiny, a bed-sitting room, thin slice of kitchen and a shower room. The girls sit on the bed, arms round each other, staring at them. In the corner of the room, behind a laundry basket, Clough holds up a plastic bag.
Baby clothes.
Nelson goes to look. The bag contains an outfit of clothes suitable, according to the label, for a child of between twelve and eighteen months. A pink and white striped dress and pink tights.
Its a present for Poppy.
Whens her birthday?
March. But its not a birthday present, I just thought shed look sweet in them.
Youre a very devoted nanny, says Nelson.
Yes. Justines chin tilts up. I love them.
The search yields nothing, not even a dodgy cigarette end or a tab of E. Nelson turns to face the two girls, one blonde, one dark, huddled together like a picture of persecuted innocence.
Justine, can you take me through what happened yesterday evening? From the time that you arrived at The Rectory to the time you left.
You dont have to answer, says Maddie, her fathers daughter.
Its OK, Mads. Justine sits up straighter. Donna rang at about four. She asked if I could help with bedtime, make tea, that sort of thing.
Was this something that had happened before? You getting called in on your day off?
Yes, says Justine. Donna finds it hard to cope with the three of them. She hasnt got any routines, you see. Shes not used to it. Her voice is neutral.
What about Patrick?
Patrick? Now something like a sneer does cross Justines face. He was shut away in his office, working apparently, but when I went in to offer him some coffee he was on level fifteen of Angry Birds.
Angry Birds?
Its a computer game, Boss.
So you helped Donna with the bedtime routine?
Yes. I made the kids some tea and played with the little ones for a bit. That let Donna spend some time with Bailey. He gets a bit jealous sometimes. She did his homework with him – ridiculous, a kid that age having homework – but at least he had her full attention. Then Donna and the boys watched some TV. I gave Poppy her bath and put her to bed. Then I went home.
When you put Poppy to bed, did you notice anything different.
No. I put her in her cot and put on the nightlight – it wasnt dark, but it plays a tune and it helps her sleep, Then I kissed her goodnight and went downstairs.
Nelson makes a note to ask about the nightlight. Was it still on when Donna went to check on her daughter?
What about the window? he asks. Was it shut? Locked?
Justine stares at him. It was certainly shut because I pulled the curtains. It was still light outside. I dont know if it was locked.
Had Poppy ever tried to get out of the window?
No. She wasnt an inquisitive child, not like Bailey. That boy is into everything. She hadnt been walking that long.
Nelson looks at Clough. OK, Justine. Thats it for now.
Justine stays sitting on the bed but Maddie gets up, as if to make sure that theyre really going. Just one thing, says Nelson at the door. Do you know anyone who might call themselves The Childminder?
Justine blinks at him. What?
Someone left a note saying they had Poppy. It was signed The Childminder.
Justines face is as white as a sheet. Whiter, in fact, than the rather dubious linen exposed on her bed.
How horrible, she whispers.
Does it mean anything to you?
No.
On the way downstairs, Nelson wonders whether to share his fears with Clough. But, not for the first time, his sergeant surprises him. As they get into the car, he says, She talked about her in the past tense.
CHAPTER 22
Ruth wakes knowing immediately that its Sunday. Its not that she can hear bells (Norwichs famous fifty-two churches are well out of earshot) or that she hurries to dress in her Sunday best for church (though, in South London, her parents will be doing just that). Its more that the day has its own atmosphere – less exciting than Saturday, less depressing than Monday. Sunday mornings, in particular, have a mood of their own, easy as the song says. After lunch Ruth will still experience that old Sunday afternoon dread – a heady mix of undone homework and uniform drying by the fire, cosy and sad at the same time. Shell get the Dread even though she doesnt have to go to work tomorrow. Summer School is over and the holidays have officially started. But as soon as the Sunday evening programmes come on the television – costume dramas, antiques and the countryside – the Dread will descend.
But now, as she makes coffee and settles Kate with her toys in a patch of sunshine, it is purely easy. Ruth sits with her coffee at the table by the window and reads yester days paper. The rain has stopped and the marshes are steaming gently. Flint jumps onto the table and arranges himself, with geometrical precision, on the exact article that Ruth is reading. She pushes him off. Shell get dressed in a minute, catch The Archers omnibus and maybe take Kate for a walk. Nelson is coming to take her out in the afternoon. Then she needs to start getting the house ready for Simon and the boys. Oh God, this probably means going to the supermarket and buying pizzas and things like that. What do almost-teenage boys eat? Ruth recalls that Cathy is extremely fussy about food, dissecting meals for traces of forbidden substances like mushrooms and peanuts, much to her mother-in-laws irritation. Whoever heard of a child being allergic to mushrooms, Ruths mother was heard to mutter. Well, Ruth wont buy mushrooms. In fact, better to avoid vegetables altogether. Maybe theyll have a barbecue, eat burnt sausages by the light of a camp fire. Its possible, she supposes, but she cant quite see it happening. She wishes Cathbad were here. Hed light the fire in a trice and probably organise wild games on the beach into the bargain. Cathbad is one of those strange creatures universally acknowledged to be good with children.
Well, Ruth might not be a natural entertainer but shell try her best to be a good aunt for a few days. Maybe she should buy a kite or something. She wonders what happened to the old Monopoly board …
Your cousins are coming to stay, she says to Kate. Thatll be fun, wont it.
Kate carries on stacking bricks, obviously underwhelmed. From his vantage point on the table, Flint blinks at her. He certainly wont enjoy the addition of two large tail-pulling children. Hang on, isnt one of them asthmatic? Ruth is sure that everything in her house is coated with a fine layer of cats fur. Just as well theyre camping in the garden. Should she mow the lawn? Bob usually does it for her but hes still away in Australia. Oh well, they can have fun playing in the long grass.
Ruth sips her coffee and tries to get herself in a positive frame of mind. Shes looking forward to seeing her nephews, of course she is. Its just that she had been planning to get a bit of work done. She needs to check the proofs of her book. She still cant quite believe that shes become a person who has proofs, almost as if shes a real author. The book, The Tomb of the Raven King, was surprisingly easy to write. She finished it just before Christmas, pouring out the story of the buried king and also all the fevered emotions surrounding the discovery. It had been therapy, if you like. She hadnt had much hope of getting it published and had been amazed when the first publisher she contacted expressed interest verging on enthusiasm. She had travelled to London to meet her editor (her editor!), an extremely keen young man called Javier. Before long she had a contract, a book jacket (a moody shot of ruins in the mist) and a marked increase in respect from Phil. She still wont be able to believe it until she sees the finished book. Its due out in the autumn.
Still, the proofs can wait for now. Family is more important. Shell go upstairs in a minute and start sorting out bed-linen. After shes listened to The Archers of course.
But, at ten oclock, just as the jolly strains of The Archers fill the air, the phone rings. Its Michelle.
Hallo, says Ruth warily.
Hallo, Ruth. Just to say that Harry wont be able to make it this afternoon. Hes been called away on an urgent case. Youve probably seen it on the news.
Ruth hasnt seen or heard the news but she says that she quite understands. She knows that its very good of Michelle to ring her at all. Michelle sounds resigned, as if shes had to cancel such arrangements many times before. In her position, Ruth knows that shed soon come to resent the urgent cases that take priority over everything else. But then Ruth never will be in Michelles position.
After Michelle rings off (Love to Katie), Ruth turns on the TV, still with the Archers quarrelling bucolically in the background. A familiar face fills the screen. Detective Sergeant Tim Heathfield of the Kings Lynn Serious Crimes Unit, reads the caption, in solemn capitals.
… anything at all, Tim is saying, that might help us trace Baby Poppy. Shes a little girl, not much more than a baby, away from her mum and dad. She must be very scared right now. Please, if you have any information at all, call us on this number …
Ruth stares at Tims earnest face, feeling as if hes addressing her directly. And, as always, when confronted with an appeal like this, she immediately feels guilty. Does she know anything about this disappearance? Poppy, the name sounds strangely familiar. Poor little girl, and poor Nelson too. She knows that all policemen hate cases involving missing children, but for Nelson the reminders of Scarlet and Lucy must make it almost unbearable. She finds another news channel and learns that Poppy was taken from her bed in the middle of the night. Police are anxious to trace a woman seen pushing a pram in the vicinity of the house, if only to eliminate her from their enquiries.