Echo

He says he's thirty-four but I suggest you take twenty years off that to get an approximation of his emotional age. My best advice is to ask a parent or a friend to sit with him while you ask him questions, otherwise he'll probably collapse again. Work on the basis that you're dealing with a juvenile, and you might get somewhere.'

'His mother's not answering the phone and, judging by the shrine she's made to her grandparents in the front room of their house, she's barking mad anyway.'

'Which would explain his delayed development.'

'What about a solicitor?'

The doctor shrugged. 'My professional opinion, for what it's worth, is that a solicitor will terrify him even more. Find a friend-he must have some-otherwise you'll end up with a false confession. He's the type, Greg, believe me, so don't expect me to stand up in court and say anything different.'

The telephone rang in the kitchen. A few seconds later Siobhan popped her head round the sitting-room door. 'It's for you, Michael. A Sergeant Harrison would like a few words.'

Deacon and Terry exchanged glances. 'Did he say why?'

'No, but he made a point of stressing that it has nothing to do with Terry.'

With a shrug in the boy's direction, Deacon followed the woman out.

'Michael seems to be developing quite a relationship with the police,' Penelope remarked dryly. 'Is this a recent thing?'

'If you're asking, is it my fault, then I guess it is, sort of. The old Bill wouldn't even know his name if it weren't for me. But you don't need to worry about him getting into trouble, Mrs. D. He's a good bloke. He don't even drink and drive.' He watched her out of the corner of his eye. 'He's been well kind to me, bought me clothes and such, taught me stuff I didn't know. A hundred other guys wouldn't've given me the time of day.'

She didn't say anything, and Terry plowed on doggedly.

'So I reckon it wouldn't do no harm to show him you're pleased to see him. I remember this old geezer I used to know-he were a bit of a preacher-telling me a story about a rich bloke who took half his dad's loot, spent it all on women and gambling, and ended up on the streets. He was really poor, and really miserable, until he remembered how nice his old dad had always been to him before he left home. Then he thought, why am I bumming crusts off strangers when dad'll give them to me with no questions asked? So he took himself home, and his dad was that pleased to see him he burst into tears because he thought the silly bastard had died years ago.'

Penelope smiled slightly. 'You've just related the parable of the prodigal son.'

'D'you get the point, though, Mrs. D? Never mind what sort of mess the bloke made of his life, his dad was over the moon to see him.'

'But for how long?' she asked. 'The son hadn't changed, so do you think his father would still be pleased to have him around when he started making a mess of his life again?''

Terry thought about it. 'I don't see why not. Okay, maybe they'd have the odd spat now and then, and maybe they couldn't live in the same house, but the dad wouldn't never be so unhappy as when he thought his son was dead.'

She smiled again. 'Well, I'm not going to burst into tears of joy, Terry. Firstly, I'm far too crabby to do anything so sentimental and, secondly, poor Michael would be appalled. He can't cope with weepy women which is why both his wives walked off with so much of his money despite the fact neither of them had children. Certainly Julia knew how to turn on the waterworks when it mattered, and I've no doubt Clara was equally adept. In any case, I think you'll find he already knows I'm pleased to see him, otherwise he wouldn't be talking as freely as he is.'

'If you say so,' said Terry doubtfully. 'I mean, you seem like too straight-up types to me and let's be honest, if I were looking for a mum-which I ain't,' he pointed out carefully, 'I'd as soon have you as the nurse out there who can't keep her paws off of me. Plus, she don't half talk a lot. Yabber, yabber, yabber. I reckon I heard her entire life history while I was looking for the gin.' He laid a gentle hand on the cat's head and drew forth another rumbling purr. 'What's a pickled egg, anyway? It sounded right horrible.'

Penelope was laughing as Deacon came back into the room and he was surprised to see how young she looked. He remembered a Jamaican friend telling him once that laughter was the music of the soul. Was it also the fountain of youth? Would Penelope live longer if she learned to laugh again?

'We have to go back to London,' he told Terry. 'I'm a bit hazy on the details, but Harrison says Barry's been arrested for acting suspiciously in Amanda Powell's garden. Barry won't say a word, and they want to know if I can shed any light on some photographs he has in his possession.' He frowned. 'Did he say anything to you about going to see her?'

Terry shook his head. 'No, but if he don't want to talk, that's his business. Don't see why we have to go stirring things up just because the old Bill says jump.'

'Except there's something very odd going on, and I want to know what it is. According to Harrison, they had to call in a doctor because Barry collapsed in a dead faint the minute they started asking him questions.' He turned to his mother. 'I'm sorry about this, Ma, but I do need to go. It's a story I've been working on for weeks. It's how I met Terry.'

'Ah, well,' she said with a sigh of resignation. 'It's probably for the best. Emma and her family are due sometime this afternoon, and I've no doubt there'll be a terrible row if you're still here when they arrive. You know what you and she are like.'

Nobly, her son bit his tongue. More often than not it was Penelope's stirring that had set her children at each other's throats. 'I'm a reformed character,' he said. 'I stopped arguing with my nearest and dearest five years ago.' He stooped to peck her on the cheek. 'Look after yourself.'

She caught his hand and held on to it. 'If I sell this house and move into a nursing home,' she said, 'there'll be nothing for you when I die, particularly if I live as long as the doctors say I'm going to.'

He smiled. 'You mean the threats of disinheritance if I married Clara were hogwash?'

'She was a golddigger,' said Penelope bitterly. 'I hoped they'd put her off.'

'They might have done if I'd ever repeated them to her.' He gave her hand a quick squeeze. 'Is this the only thing that's stopping you from moving?'