‘Can you tell us what the man looked like, Linda?’ Detective Hardcastle sat on the chair by the bed and leaned back, crossing his legs.
Linda didn’t want to think about the nasty man. It made all the horrible feelings come back. She slid further down under the covers, shook her head and winced – the large bump on her head hurt. Her ankle, raised on a hard pillow, was bound in brown calico. ‘My foot’s hot,’ she whispered to her mother.
‘Nurse?’ Ellen looked up at the young woman next to her.
‘It’s a simple sprain but the ankle requires support so it needs the bandage on and must be kept still and raised up for now.’ The nurse smiled sympathetically at Linda.
Her daughter looked so tiny. Ellen see-sawed between relief that she’d been found and rage at the person who’d done this to her. She clung on to Linda’s hand. She never wanted to let her out of her sight again. This was how she felt the first time she’d brought her home, she remembered; the journey on the train with Mary by their side, as always, she acknowledged. Mary. Always there when needed.
How many chances in life were possible? Ellen realised that, for the last two days, she’d unconsciously convinced herself that her luck had run out. That she’d gambled once too often with her daughter’s life.
Now she felt fiercely protective. When the policeman leaned towards Linda and said, ‘Okay, let’s try again,’ Ellen interrupted.
‘Do we have to do this now?’
‘Yes, the sooner we know what the man looks like, the sooner we can concentrate on who we’re looking for.’
‘You can leave this to us.’ Patrick slapped his clenched fist into the palm of his other hand.
‘We can’t.’ Detective Hardcastle exchanged angry looks with Patrick. ‘We have other reasons to find this man, as you may know.’ Turning slightly away from Linda he moved his eyes towards her with a small tilt of his head. ‘I just wonder when you were going to tell us you’d found her. And where.’ He waited, his eyes wandering over the three of them. They refused to meet his gaze. ‘If someone hadn’t reported seeing you going into the old camp we wouldn’t have known anything about it.’
Ellen shivered. The thought of the murdered boy had haunted her from the moment she’d heard about him. Her heart went out to the mother and she was almost ashamed of the relief that it was him and not her daughter; almost, but not quite.
‘Look, the description of this man could be the nearest lead we’ve had so far. I’ve got some men in the old camp now, looking for anything they can find that might identify this chap. In the meantime…’ He swung back in his chair and smiled at Linda, leaning on the bed. ‘Let’s start with his hair, eh sweetheart. Try to think what that looked like.’
Linda held her lower lip between the tips of her finger and thumb. It was cut and swollen from when the man had pushed the cup at her mouth. She reluctantly made the picture of the man in her head. ‘Like the curly horns of the big goat in the Billy Goats Gruff story, Mummy,’ Linda said. ‘Funny colour, like your blouse.’ It frightened her to think about him but that was how she remembered the man’s hair the first time she saw him, frizzing up around his head in the sunlight.
‘Hey, cheeky monkey, leave the colour of my blouse alone.’ Ellen leant over to tickle Linda’s chin.
Everyone laughed. It lightened the atmosphere for a second.
‘Orange? Ginger!’ A note of triumph in the policeman’s voice. ‘Good girl.’ He looked at each of them in turn. ‘Ring any bells?’
Ellen and Ted shook their heads.
Loud as a bloody church bell, Patrick thought. But he’d keep the information to himself. He’d be the one to kill the bastard.
‘Anything else?’
‘Funny nose.’ Linda pushed her nose to one side.
‘Broken nose?’ Again his gaze swept over them.
No response.
Linda touched her cheek. ‘His face was really red … here … bumpy.’ She touched the other cheek. ‘But not on this side.’ She thought for a moment. ‘No.’ She swopped sides again with her hand. ‘Just this side.’
‘Like a burn?’
She shrugged. ‘Mummy?’
‘She doesn’t understand,’ Ellen said.
‘That’s fine. Anything else?’
‘He had a ring on his finger.’ Linda held up her right hand. ‘This one.’ She pointed to her finger. ‘Big. And like this.’ She drew a square on the sheet. ‘Big,’ she repeated. ‘Dirty nails.’ Now she felt safe, now everyone was looking and smiling at her, as though they were all pleased with her, she felt braver. ‘And he was very smelly – stinky,’ Linda added.
She was beginning to enjoy herself and was a bit disappointed when the policeman said, ‘Well, I think that’s enough for now.’ He stood and smiled down at her. ‘You’ve done really well, Linda. I wish all our witnesses were as good.’ He patted her head. ‘See you again sometime, eh?’
‘Yes.’ She snuggled down under the covers and closed her eyes in pretend sleep.
The men moved away.
‘You sure this doesn’t ring any bells?’ Detective Hardcastle asked.
Again Ted shook his head.
‘Mr Howarth?’ He stared steadily at Patrick.
‘Nope, no bugger I know.’
The policeman looked as if he didn’t believe him. Nowt he can do, Patrick thought, but a hell of a lot I fucking can, if I ever manage to find him. He repeated his earlier thought to himself. I can kill the bastard.