his car and drove through the still-empty streets into town.
At the hospital, a security man advanced to challenge him, recognized him, and called a greeting. Pascoe raised a hand but did not pause. Lightly he ran up the stairs, waved a hand at a surprised Sister, and went into the small room where Rosie lay.
Late last night he'd spoken to Ellie on the phone, told her what had happened, where he needed to be the following morning. Dalziel had assured him his presence would not be necessary. Pascoe hadn't argued, simply said he'd be there. Ellie had understood, told him to go home, get what rest he could, assured him that Rosie was doing marvelously well.
Last night Ellie's voice, her reassurance, had been enough. This morning he needed to see for himself.
Ellie had had her bed brought into the room so she could be at her daughter's side. She stirred as Pascoe entered but did not waken. He smiled down at her, then tiptoed past to Rosie's bed.
She had thrown the top sheet off and lay there curled with one fist pushed up against her chin, like Rodin's Thinker.
Think on, my love. But not too much. Not yet. Time enough to wrestle with life's problems. Time enough.
Gently he drew the sheet over her. It would be nice to kick off his shoes and lie down here with his wife and child, and wake with them in a little while. But there was work to be done. A debt to be paid. What had Ellie called him? Pious Aeneas, always on his way to the Lavinian shore.
How the gods must love irony to let the sight of those he loved most both tempt him from his duty and give him the strength to do it.
He brushed Rosie's brow with his lips, then stooped over Ellie.
A writing pad lay by her side, half hidden by the duvet. She still clutched a pencil in her hand. She'd started writing again. She was indomitable! For her, a huge crisis endured gave her strength to turn away and confront all the smaller crises put on hold. Indomitable!
Guiltily he peeked at the penciled scrawl. Suppose it wasn't a new book, but something intensely personal… but no, there were the reassuring words Chapter One. He read the opening lines.
It was a dark and stormy night. The wind was blowing off the sea and the guard commander bowed into it with his cloak wrapped around his face as he left the shelter of the grove and began to clamber up to the headland.
Ellie stirred. He looked down at her with love and admiration. Indomitable. A new tune, she'd said. I think we'll all be ready for some new tunes after this. And with typical boldness she'd chosen as her fanfare the corniest opening line in literature!
With a woman like this by his side, a man could go anywhere.
But first he had somewhere to go by himself.
He kissed her gently and went out of the room.
The breeze which had stirred the birch tree at dawn was stronger now, pulling at his hair, portending change. As he sped north he saw for the first time in weeks the smooth blue ocean of sky break against the far horizon in a faint spume of silver cloud.
The gate across the reservoir road was thronged with grim-faced policemen who checked his warrant even though they knew him. Today was by the book.
Despite his efforts at speed, his diversion had made him late and he saw the others waiting for him at the head of the mere. Greetings were short and muted. They watched in silence as he pulled on his boots.
Finally he was ready. At a grunted signal from Andy Dalziel, they turned their faces to the rising fell and went to keep their rendezvous on Beulah Height.
