'Right,' I said, not directly answering, Get in the car. I'd be glad for you to come, if you really mean it. But there's a good chance we won't be going back to Lambourn tonight. Would you mind that?'
For answer she slid into the front passenger seat and closed the door, and I walked round to climb in beside her.
As I started the engine and drove out of the gate she said, 'The Nerritys' horse won the Derby last year. Ordinand. Don't you remember?'
'Um…' No, actually, I didn't.
'It wasn't one of the really greats, she said assessingly, 'or at least no one thought so. He was an outsider. Thirty-three to one. But he's been winning this year quite well.' She stopped. 'I can't bear to think of that child,'
'His name's Dominic,' I said. 'Haul the map out of the glove compartment and find the fastest route to Chichester.'
She reached for the map. 'How old is he?'
'Don't know.'
We sped westwards through Sussex in the golden afternoon and came eventually to the Breakwater Hotel, right on the pebbly beach at West Wittering.
'Look,' I said, putting on brakes and pulling off my tie. 'Behave like a holidaymaker. Walk into the hotel slowly. Smile. Talk to me. Don't seem worried. OK?'
She looked at me with puzzlement turning to comprehension. 'Do you think… someone's watching?'
'Someone usually is,' I said astringently. 'Always take it for granted that someone is. Kidnappers post watchers to make sure the police don't arrive in huge numbers,'
'Oh.'
'So we're on holiday.'
'Yes,' she said.
'Let's go in.'
We climbed, stretching, out of the car, and Alessia wandered a few steps away from the hotel to look out to the English Channel, shading her eyes and speaking to me over her shoulder. 'I'm going in for a swim.'
I put my arm round her shoulders and stood beside her for a few seconds, then with me saying teasingly 'Mind the jellyfish' we walked through the hotel's glass entrance doors into a wide armchair-scattered lounge. A few people sat around drinking tea, and a girl in a black dress was moving to and fro behind a polished brown counter labelled 'Reception'.
'Hello,' I said, smiling. 'We think a friend of ours is staying here. A Mrs Nerrity?'
'And Dominic,' Alessia said.
'That's right,' the girl said calmly. She looked at a guest list. 'Room sixty-three… but they're probably still on the beach. Lovely day, isn't it?'
'Gorgeous,' Alessia agreed.
'Could you give their room a ring?' I asked. 'Just in case.'
The girl obligingly turned to the switchboard and was surprised at receiving an answer. Tick up the 'phone,' she said, pointing to a handset on the counter, and I lifted the receiver with an appropriate smile.
'Miranda?' I said. 'This is Andrew Douglas.'
'Where are you?' a small voice said tearfully.
'Downstairs, here in the hotel.'
'Oh… Come up… I can't bear…'
'On my way,' I said.
The girl gave us directions which we followed to a room with twin beds, private bathroom, view of the sea. Miranda Nerrity opened her door to us with swollen eyes and a clutched, soaking handkerchief and said between gulps, 'They said… the man in London said… you would get Dominic back… he promised me… Andrew Douglas will get him back… he always does, he said… don't worry… but how can I not worry? Oh my God… my baby… Get him back for me. Get him back.'
'Yes,' I said gently. 'Come and sit down,' I put my arm round her shoulders this time, not Alessia's, and guided her over to one of the armchairs, 'Tell us what happened. Then we'll make a plan to get him back.'
Miranda took a very small grip on things, recognising Alessia with surprise and pointing to a piece of paper which lay on one of the beds.
'A little girl gave it to me,' she said, the tears rolling. 'She said a man had asked her. Oh dear… oh dear…'
'How old was the little girl?' I asked.
'What? Oh… eight… something like that… I don't know.'
Alessia knelt beside Miranda to comfort her, her own face pale again and taut with strain, and I picked «p the sheet of paper and unfolded it, and read its brutal block-lettered message.
WE'VE TAKEN YOUR KID. GIVE YOUR OLD MAN A BELL, TELL HIM TO GO HOME. WE'LL TELL YOUR HUBBY WHAT WE WANT. DON'T GO SQUAWKING AROUND. TELL NO ONE AT ALL, SEE. IF YOU WANT TO SEE YOUR KID AGAIN DON'T GO TO THE POLICE. WE'LL TIE A PLASTIC BAG OVEK HIS HEAD IF YOU GET THE POLICE. SAVVY?
I lowered the page. 'How old is Dominic?' I asked.
'Three and a half,' Miranda said.
TEN
Miranda, twenty-six, had long blond hair falling from a centre parting and on other occasions might have been pretty. She still wore a bathing suit with a towelling robe over, and there was still sand on her legs from the beach. Her eyes were glazed behind the puffed eyelids as if too much devastated emotion had put a film over them to repel reality, and she made vague pointless movements with her hands as if total inactivity was impossible.
Out of habit I carried with me a flat container like a cigarette case, which contained among other things a small collection of pills. I took out the case, opened it, and sorted out a strip of white tablets in foil.
'Take one of these,' I said, fetching water in a toothmug and sliding a pill from its wrapper.
Miranda simply swallowed as instructed. It was Alessia who said, 'What are you giving her?'
'Tranquilliser.'
'Do you carry those round with you always?' she asked incredulously.
'Mostly,' I nodded. 'Tranquillisers, sleeping pills, aspirins, things for heart attacks. First aid, that's all.'
Miranda drank all the water.
'Do they have room service in this hotel?' I asked.
'What?' she said vaguely. 'Yes, I suppose so… They'll be bringing Dominic's supper soon…' The idea of it reduced her to fresh deep sobs, and Alessia put her arm round her and looked shattered.
I telephoned to room service for tea, strong, as soon as possible, for three. Biscuits? Certainly biscuits. Coming right away, they said: and with very little delay the tray arrived, with me meeting the maid at the door and thanking her for her trouble.
'Mrs Nerrity, drink this,' I said, putting down the tray and pouring tea for her. 'And eat the biscuits.' I poured another cup for Alessia. 'You too,' I said.
The girls each drank and ate like automatons, and slowly in Miranda the combined simple remedies of tranquilliser, caffeine and carbohydrate took the worst edge off the pain so that she could bear to describe what happened.
'We were on the sand… with his bucket and spade… making a sandcastle. He loves making sandcastles…' She stopped and swallowed, tears trickling down her cheeks. 'A lot of the sand was wet, and I'd left our things up on the shingle… towels, a beach chair, our lunch box, packed by the hotel, Dominic's toys… It was a lovely hot day, not windy like usual… I went up to sit on the chair… I was watching him all the time, he was only thirty yards away… less, less… squatting, playing with his bucket and spade, patting the sandcastle… I was watching him all the time, I really was.' Her voice tapered off into a wail, the dreadful searing guilt sounding jagged and raw.
'Were there a lot of people on the beach?' I asked.
'Yes, yes there were… it was so warm… But I was watching him, I could see him all the time…'
'And what happened?' I said.
'It was the boat…'
'What boat?'
'The boat on fire. I was watching it. Everyone was watching it. And then… when I looked back… he wasn't there. I wasn't scared. It was less than a minute… I thought he'd be going over to look at the boat… I was looking for him… and then the little girl gave me the note… and I read it…'
The awfulness of that moment swept over her again like a tidal wave. The cup and saucer rattled and Alessia took them from her.
'I shouted for him everywhere… I ran up and down… I couldn't believe it… I couldn't… I'd seen him such a short time ago, just a minute… and then I came up here… I don't know how I got up here… I telephoned John… and I've left all our things… on the beach.'
'When is high tide?' I said.
She looked at me vaguely. 'This morning… The tide had just gone out… the sand was all wet…'
'And the boat? Where was the boat?'
'On the sand.'
'What sort of boat?' I asked.
She looked bewildered. 'A sailing dinghy. What does it matter? There are millions of sailing dinghies round here.'
But millions of sailing dinghies didn't go on fire at the exact moment that a small child was kidnapped. A highly untrustworthy coincidence of timing.
'Both of you drink more tea,' I said. 'I'll go down and fetch the things from the beach. Then I'll ring Mr Nerrity…'
'No,' Miranda interrupted compulsively. 'Don't. Don't.'
'But we must.'
