13

EARLY THE FOLLOWING morning, with dawn still scarcely discernible beyond the window, Charlotte and Derek said their farewells in the kitchen of Ockham House after a breakfast neither of them had had much stomach for. Both looked as they felt – tired, edgy, uncertain whether what they had agreed to do was for the best, unwilling to express their doubts in case they were too abundantly shared. At any minute, Frank would come in and announce the Land Rover was as ready as it would ever be to commence its thousand-mile journey to Galicia. Very soon, each would have to take their leave of the other. Yet neither could bring themselves to admit the enormity of the moment. Afraid to say too much, they were in danger of saying too little.

‘You should have flown,’ Charlotte remarked with a nervous smile. ‘It’s far quicker. And you could have left later.’

‘I agree. But Frank refused point blank. He says planes frighten him.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘So do I, but … Well, it seems we have to humour him.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ She felt responsible for the position Derek found himself in, but she could see no way of extricating him from it. She would gladly have gone herself, but circumstances had conspired to prevent her. It was not her fault Derek was to go in her place. Yet she could not help wondering if he thought it was. ‘It’s still not too late … I mean, I’d quite understand if you …’

‘Pulled out? No, I shan’t be doing that.’ His gaze conveyed more than his tone. It hinted at the real reason why he was determined to do something he clearly believed was unwise and ill-judged. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we tread carefully every step of the way.’

‘And you’ll keep in regular contact?’

‘I’ll phone at seven o’clock each evening without fail. All you have to do is be waiting at my house when I call.’

‘I will be.’ It was an essential precaution, since Chief Inspector Golding had virtually admitted they would tap her telephone. ‘If you seem to be getting nowhere …’

‘I won’t hesitate to tell you if I think we should inform the police. After all …’ His words trailed into silence and fused with a self-mocking smile.

‘After all, you would inform them now?’

‘Probably. But I could be wrong. So could Frank. Delgado might not be the guilty party. Despite what Kilmainham said, he might be dead. We could easily be wasting our time.’

‘You don’t believe that any more than I do.’

‘No.’ He looked away. ‘I suppose I don’t.’

‘Tell me your plan again.’

‘Contact Delgado. Put it to him that he’s responsible for Sam’s abduction. Offer him the document. Explain why he can’t have everything he wants. Threaten him, if necessary, with exposure. Negotiate terms for an exchange: the document for Sam. And maintain a calm and businesslike front. Hope we’re right. And pray we’re successful.’ He grinned ruefully. ‘A piece of cake, wouldn’t you say?’

‘No. I wouldn’t.’

‘No.’ His grin froze. ‘Neither would I.’

She stepped towards him. ‘Derek, I …’ Even as she began to speak, she sensed his eagerness to respond, his absurdly repressed desire to please her. Affection for him – for all his characteristics that were so like her own – swept over her. But, before she could yield to them, Frank Griffith entered the room.

‘I’m ready.’ His announcement was bleak, his glance at them unsympathetic – or, more likely, unaware.

‘Let’s go, then,’ said Derek.

‘Before you do—’ Charlotte began.

‘No more words,’ said Frank. ‘There have been too many already.’ His face was blank and hard, the lines as stark upon it as the crevices in a cliff. ‘I’ll wait for you outside.’ With that he turned and walked out, leaving Charlotte and Derek smiling at each other in bemusement.

‘I’d better be off,’ said Derek. ‘If we’re to be at Dover in good time for the ferry—’

It was impossible, in the end, to let him go without some acknowledgement of what she felt. Rushing forward, she kissed him and was glad when he kissed her back and encirled her with his arms. ‘Be careful,’ she murmured. ‘Please be careful.’

‘That’s what I told you once. Do you remember what you replied?’

‘“Being careful won’t help Sam”?’

‘Exactly. Nevertheless, I will be. Very.’

‘There’s something else, though. Another reason why you should be. I—’

‘Don’t say any more.’ He pressed his fingers gently against her lips. ‘Frank was right. There have been enough words. Many more and I shan’t be able to go through with this. But I must. We both know I must. So …’ He stepped back and released her. ‘Goodbye, Charlotte. Don’t wish me luck. I’m very much hoping I won’t need any.’

Ten minutes later, Charlotte was alone, oppressed as much by doubts about the wisdom of what they had decided to do as by the knowledge that now there was nobody she could confide in. If their plan was to succeed, she would have to keep her own counsel as the days ebbed away towards 11 October and whatever it might bring. She would have to pretend she was as helpless as everybody else to save Samantha, while contending silently with the possibility that she was wasting their only chance of doing so. And there was another secret she had to protect now, one she would have shared with Derek if he had not stopped her, one that preyed guiltily on her mind as the solitary morning slowly passed and drove her ultimately to pick up the telephone and dial a well-remembered number.

‘Bourne End 88285.’

‘Hello, Ursula.’

‘Charlie? Well, this is a surprise.’ A veil of sarcasm fell across Ursula’s voice. ‘What do you want?’

‘I thought I should … Well, I just wanted to know how you were.’

‘How do you think?’

‘Look, I—’

‘Can you tell me this won’t be the last week of Sam’s life, Charlie?’

‘No … Of course I can’t. I only wish—’

‘So do I. But wishes aren’t enough, are they? What else do you have to offer?’

‘Well … Nothing, I suppose.’

‘Then leave me alone. It’s all I ask.’

‘But Ursula, isn’t there—’ The burr of a dead line interrupted and left her more certain and ashamed than ever that if it came to a choice, as conceivably it might, Derek’s safety mattered more to her now than Samantha’s. But, by letting him go with Frank, she had ensured that the choice, if it did arise, would not be hers to make.