Ruth laughs. Simon could always be funny, she remembers now. Its a bigger shock to know that her mothers actually proud of her, actually shows off about her to other people. Shes so used to thinking of herself as a disappointment to her parents that this new perspective will take some adjustment. To give herself time she asks Simon if hed like another cup of tea.
Ive made a pot, he says. It should still be hot.
A pot? Ruth didnt know that she actually owned a teapot.
Mum always makes a pot, says Simon now, half-laughing and half-defensive.
God, Simon. Its true what you said last night. You really do live on the edge.
Ruth pours her tea, thinking that this is easier than she thought, sharing the little cottage with Simon and the boys. Still, it probably helps that theyre sleeping in the garden and that its only for a few days. This reminds her of something. She goes back into the sitting room.
Do you think youd be able to look after Kate tonight, Simon? Ive got to go out. Its to do with work.
Simon looks pleased. Of course. Im glad to be able to help. What are you doing?
Well, theres this TV programme, you see …
When she woke up, Ruth had found a text message. Not from Cathbad but from Frank. Looking forward to seeing you tonight. Of course, the night filming at the castle. Ruth had looked down at her phone, feeling both pleased and slightly shocked that Frank could send such a message at such a time. But of course Frank doesnt know about her link with Judy even if he has heard about the abduction on the news. Looking forward to seeing you tonight. What an inappropriately cheery sentiment. And what does he mean by it anyway?
Simon, though, is impressed. So were going to see you on TV? Wow. Wait till I tell Mum.
Ill probably only be on screen for half a second, warns Ruth, but she too is rather pleased at the thought of more maternal approval.
Ill tape it and play it back on a loop, says Simon.
Ruth is about to say something – something about mothers and families and how nice it is, despite everything, to have the prospect of a day together – but Kate calls her and the moment is lost. Just as well, thinks Ruth, as she climbs the stairs. One of the few things she and Simon have in common is an extremely low embarrassment threshold.
Clough never thought that hed feel guilty about being in a pub but he does. He can just see how it would look: Callous copper in boozer while his colleagues hunt for missing baby. And its so early, barely eleven oclock. Even Clough, who holds the stations record for downing pints, doesnt feel like a drink at this hour. But Ted, who requested the meeting place, orders a pint of Guinness and a chicken and ham pie.
Are you sure? They do good beer here.
No, youre all right. I might have a pie though. However bad things are, Clough can always eat.
The pub is almost empty although the two old men in the corner look as if theyve been there for several days. Clough wonders if he should check them for signs of life. Ted, on the other hand, looks around him with every appearance of pleasure.
Great place, this. Hasnt been dolled up too much.
You can say that again.
Ted takes a long draught of beer. Despite himself, Clough feels his throat contracting. Maybe a half wouldnt hurt.
So, what did you want to ask me?
Im looking for a pub called the Tower or Towers. Do you know anywhere like that?
Ted leans back, thinking. Hes a big man, bald and burly with tattooed forearms. Clough has to admit that he doesnt look like an academic. If he had to place Ted hed say builder or farm worker. Or a criminal.
I dont think so, Ted says at last. Its not a very common pub name. Theres the Rook near Downham Market. I think that refers to the chess piece. He sees Cloughs blank expression and explains. The castle in chess is sometimes called a rook.
What about other towers? Church towers, water towers. That sort of thing.
Ted looks at him curiously. Is this about the little boy thats missing?
I cant tell you any more, says Clough. But its important.
There are a few towers around the city walls, the remains of the old fortifications. Cow Towers one of those. Then youve got the church towers like St Giles in Norwich. Cromer Church has a famous tower too.
Weve thought of all those, says Clough. I just wondered if you could think of anything … unusual.
Well, theres The Devils Tower, of course.
What?
Out Carrow way, by the bridge. Theres a famous painting of it. You must have seen it.
Dont go much on paintings myself.
No-one knows why its called The Devils Tower. It may be one of those devil-crossing-the-bridge stories. You know, the devil demands a forfeit for crossing the bridge. Sometimes its gold, sometimes its your immortal soul, sometimes its your first-born child.
Michael is Judys first-born, thinks Clough. Somehow he doesnt fancy his pie any more.
It looks bad, Harry. Surely you can see that.
Nelson counts to ten, and when thats not nearly enough starts again. Its bad enough that he has to waste valuable time having a meeting with his boss but now Whitcliffe seems to be implying that the loss of Judys child is a public relations disaster for the force.
It is bad, agrees Nelson. Especially for Judy.
Indeed. Whitcliffe puts on his caring face. He is tanned and handsome from the Tuscan sun and Nelson is hating him more than ever.
But the fact is, Whitcliffe is already moving on, weve had two child abductions in a week and were no nearer to finding the perpetrator.
We got some leads, says Nelson. A description, the car, the babygro. They have traced the pink babygro worn by Poppy to a smart shop in Thetford. This is as far as their luck goes, the owner of the shop was unable to add much to their identikit. I think she was youngish. I think she had short hair.
Not enough, Harry, says Whitcliffe. What are your guys doing out there? I heard that Sergeant Clough had consulted a psychic.
Cursing Clough, Nelson says, That was a favour for Judy. Were not placing any reliance on anything the woman said. He prays that Whitcliffe doesnt look up and see the words tower, red heart, white lady on the whiteboard.
Im glad to hear it. What if the press got wind of it?
They wont. He crosses his fingers behind his back.
Well, we need to get out there and reassure the public that were doing our best.
Ill make another statement.
No, Whitcliffe starts fiddling with the silver paper-knife on his desk, always a sign that hes feeling uncomfortable. I think Tim should do it. You always look as if youre about to head-butt someone.
Fine by me.
No offence, Harry, but youre not exactly a TV natural.
None taken. Nelson doesnt give a toss about TV. He knows that he doesnt come across well and that Tim does. All that matters is that someone may be watching, someone who knows something about Michael. And if that person is influenced by hearing an appeal from a handsome policeman, lets get Tim into make-up at once.
We havent had much reaction to the parents TV appeal. We need to get them to do another one. The trouble was, Judy looked too calm.
Nelson grinds his teeth. She was trying to hold it together, for Gods sake. Cant you see that?
Whitcliffe smiles understandingly. Youre very closely involved, Harry. I respect that. But if Judy could just show a little more emotion for the cameras …
If she cracks up altogether, will people prefer that?
Of course not, says Whitcliffe. But people need to feel involved. They need to feel that they have a personal stake in finding Michael.
Weve had lots of volunteers for the search. Bloody rubberneckers, he adds to himself.
Thats good, says Whitcliffe. But we need a breakthrough. Times running out.
Does Whitcliffe think Nelson doesnt know this? If its the same person that took Poppy Granger, he says, theres a good chance that theyll be looking after him.
But crimes escalate, Harry. You know that. This person abducted a child and got away with it. Next time they take it further. I think we have to prepare ourselves for some bad news management.
Nelson looks longingly at the paper-knife.
Ruth and Simon have taken the kids to Yarmouth. The boys expressed a desire for amusements and Ruth felt that this was the nearest place that provided anything close to Thorpe Park or Alton Towers (two venues mentioned with enthusiasm). She was right in one way. Jack and George made approving noises as soon as the pier and rollercoaster came in sight. Kate, though, is another matter. As soon as she sees the flashing signs exhorting her to try the Silver Falls and the Wacky Racers and the Ride of Death, she starts to cry. Ruth had forgotten how much the place modelled itself on Blackpool.
Its OK, Kate, says George. Youre too little to go on anything really scary.
But Kate just stands in the middle of the Golden Mile and howls. Fellow holiday-makers regard her with mingled sympathy and irritation. The boys fidget with embarrassment. Jack puts on his dark glasses.
Whats the matter with her? asks Simon.
We went to Blackpool last year, says Ruth. She was frightened by something that happened on the Pleasure Beach. This doesnt really do justice to the horror of that day but Ruth cant bring herself to tell the whole story to Simon.
The word beach gives her an idea. Beyond the iron monsters of the roller coaster and the Waltzer and the bumper cars is the sea, miles of flat grey sand filled with more traditional seaside entertainments.
Come on sweetheart, says Ruth, Lets go and find some lovely donkeys.
Leaving Simon and the boys queuing up for the roller-coaster, Ruth and Kate go in search of donkeys. Soon Kate is swaying happily on a dun-coloured steed called Kevin and Ruth is running along behind, trying not to lose her shoes in the sand.