'Can't think of anything I'd like more,' said Pascoe.
She called, 'Jed. Visitors,' up the stone stair which rose at one end of the long low-beamed room, then went out into the kitchen.
For a few moments there was no sound. Then, just as Mrs. Hardcastle returned bearing a tray with glasses and a pot jug, footsteps clattered down the stairs and a young man erupted into the room.
He had nothing of his father's wariness or mother's calm, but emanated nervous energy even when he stood still, which was not often. He was slightly built, dressed in a black T-shirt and the kind of tight-fitting jeans which gave a male profile once only enjoyed by aficionados of the ballet. What happened if you got excited? wondered Pascoe.
'Yeah?' said the youth staring defiantly at Clark.
'Nice to see you, too, Jed,' said the sergeant. 'Couple of questions we'd like to ask. About Saturday night.'
The youngster's stare had moved round to Pascoe, who was drinking his lemon barley and finding it as cool and refreshing as a thirsty cop could desire.
'Who's this? Your minder?'
Trying too hard to sound big, thought Pascoe. Especially for a boy who hadn't run any farther from the estate office than home. It had been his intention to stand back and let Clark's local knowledge have room to play. But with the weak it was often familiarity that gave strength, and Clark's most effective interrogatory weapon, which seemed to be a clip round the ear, could hardly be used in present company.
He stepped closer to the youth and said pleasantly, 'I'm Detective Chief Inspector Pascoe. I'm making inquiries into the disappearance of a young girl yesterday morning. How old are you, Jed?'
'Seventeen, just turned.' He shot an enigmatically accusing glance at his mother, then went on. 'You gonna send me a card or something?'
'No,' said Pascoe equably. 'Just want to check you're an adult in the eyes of the law. That way we don't need to bother your parents to accompany you down to the station. Sergeant, bring him.'
He turned away. Mrs. Hardcastle looked like he'd just condemned her son to death. Her husband stood in the doorway, his features working angrily. Even Clark looked shell-shocked.
Pascoe halted his progress to the door, turned back, and said, 'Of course, if you answer a couple of questions here, we may not need to trouble you further. Who actually did the spraying? It's always interesting to see if the stories match. Was it you or Kittle?'
It worked. The boy said, 'You been talking to Vern? What's he say?'
Pascoe smiled enigmatically and said, 'Well, you know Vern.'
'What the hell's this mad bugger on about?'
Hardcastle senior had found his voice at last.
Pascoe said, 'I'm talking about the words BENNY'S BACK!, sprayed by your son and his mate on the old railway bridge and various other sites around the village. And in view of the fact that Lorraine Dacre went missing yesterday morning, I'm interested to know why he sprayed them.'
'It had nowt to do with that,' protested the boy. 'We did it Saturday night. We knew nowt about the Dacre lass then.'
'So why'd you do it?' demanded Pascoe. 'Just got an urge, did you? Thought it would be funny? Maybe seeing those words put the idea of taking the girl in someone's mind. Maybe it put it in your mind or Vernon's mind…'
'No!' screamed the boy. 'I did it 'cos I've had it up to here with Benny fucking Lightfoot. He's been around this house all my life. Take a look around, see if you can find a picture of me or our June. No, there's nowt but our Jenny who got took by Benny Lightfoot all them years ago. We even have a cake for her on her birthday, candles and all, can you believe that? Well, it were my birthday on Saturday and I tret myself to a long lie-in and I got up at dinnertime, thinking there'd be presents and cards like, and a special meal, and what did I find, I found bugger all! I found Mam sitting there trembling and Dad raging like a mad thing and you know why? She'd been out and seen Benny Lightfoot! My birthday, and all I get is-He's back, Benny's back! So I took off out and later I was having a few beers with Vern and he said, 'Well, if he's back, let's tell the whole fucking world, see if we can't spoil some other fucker's birthday.'
'So you decided to do some spraying? Good thinking,' said Pascoe.
The youth was trembling with the emotion of his outburst, but his mother looked to be in a worse state.
She said, 'Oh, Jed, I'm sorry… I'm really sorry…'
Pascoe said, 'Mrs. Hardcastle, I need to ask-' but Clark had moved past him, almost shouldered him aside, and taking the woman by the arm, he said, 'I'll see to this, sir,' and steered her into the kitchen.
Interesting, thought Pascoe.
He turned to the elder Hardcastle and said, 'Did you see Lightfoot, too, sir?'
'No!' spat the man. 'Do you think I'd have seen him and not tore his throat out? But I always knew he'd be back. I've been saying for years, it's not over, not yet, not by a long chalk. Them as thought they were safe, they all looked church solemn and said how sorry they were, but all the time they were thinking, Thank God it was yours not mine, thank God I've got away safe. It's Elsie Dacre's kid that's gone, isn't it? Elsie Coe as was. She were a girl herself back then when it happened and I recall her dad saying he'd see nowt happened to his lass even if it meant keeping her in shackles. But it has happened, hasn't it? It has!'
'We don't know what's happened, sir. But we need to look into every possibility.'
He turned to the boy. No defiance or even anger there anymore, just a lost child's face with tears swelling at the eyes.
Hardcastle was right. Whatever the truth about Lightfoot's return, it hadn't been over, not for this boy and his runaway sister, because it would never be over for their parents.
He said gently, 'You've been very silly, Jed, and I may need to talk to you again. Meanwhile, hadn't you best get back to work?'
The boy nodded gratefully, then pushed by his father without a word.
Happy families, thought Pascoe.
He went into the kitchen. Clark had had his innings. He found the sergeant sitting close to Mrs. Hardcastle at a long kitchen table, scrubbed almost white by generations of strong country women.
At sight of him Clark stood up and said, 'Thanks, then, Mrs. Hardcastle. I'll be in touch. Take care.'
Pascoe let himself be steered out of the house. In the yard he stopped and said mildly, 'Right, Sergeant. Now persuade me that I shouldn't be back in there, questioning Mrs. Hardcastle for myself.'
'She's told me all she knows,' said Clark.
'Tell me, then.'
'She went out on Saturday morning to gather some bilberries. Bilberry pie is a favorite of Jed's and she wanted to make one for his birthday. The best place for them round here is high up the far side of the dale where it gets the morning sun. She went over there, and went higher and higher and finally got to the ridge. She says she had a fancy to look down into Dendale 'cos she'd heard about the village showing up again with the drought, but she'd not cared to take a look so far. And when she did look down she saw more than she bargained for. She saw Benny Lightfoot down there, wandering around close by where Neb Cottage used to be.'
'So what did she do?'
'Just stood and looked till he looked up the fellside toward her. He were a good way off, but she says she saw him smile. Then she dropped all her berries and turned and ran down the fell all the way home.'
'When she says he was wandering around, she means walking? On his feet? Not floating over the ground?'
Clark took a deep breath and said, 'She's not daft, sir. She's been through what would have broke a lot of women, but she's still got all her wits.'
'And her eyesight? Has she still got that?'
'I've not heard her complain. And she doesn't wear glasses.'
'Perhaps she should. How old did Lightfoot look?'
'Sorry?'
'Was he the same age as last time she saw him, or did he look fifteen years older?'
'Don't know, sir. Didn't ask.'
