Georgie sits in the middle of the hospital bed. Her face is washed out, her lips still pallid, her black hair an indelible stripe down the starched white of the pillows she leans against. A thick white bandage in the middle of her forehead covers the stitches she needed for a gash to her head.
Jane Greenstreet sits to one side, her hands on Georgie’s arm, her chair pulled in as close to the bed as possible. Declan Greenstreet is on the other side, his expression dark. At the end of the bed stand DS Gordon and DC Hillier, who is suddenly conscious that, in comparison to the tiny girl, they look like giants, rearing up from the ground like leviathans.
‘Let’s sit,’ she says to Gordon, gesturing to the chairs on the other side of the room. They pull them over, sitting down primly together, outwardly relaxed.
‘How are you, Georgie?’ Gordon’s voice is level and kind. ‘Bit warmer now, eh?’
The little girl looks at her mother, who nods at her reassuringly. ‘Yes,’ she answers in a small voice.
‘You had us all really scared for a while back there.’ Gordon smiles at her and Jane. ‘But you’re safe now and that’s the main thing.’
‘Thankfully,’ Declan murmurs.
‘And now you’re feeling a bit better, we just want to ask you a few questions about what happened to you there, at the hotel. Find out how you came to be outside in that weather. Do you think you could answer some questions about that for me?’
Again, Georgie glances at her mother, who squeezes her hand. ‘It’s all right, darling. I’m here. Just try and think back to what happened. Tell the nice policeman.’ As she says this, though, Hillier catches Jane glancing at Gordon, sees how an unchecked glint of fear moves across her face while she thinks she’s unobserved. As quickly as it appears, however, it is gone.
Gordon settles in his chair, shoulders back, relaxed and easy. ‘Georgie, sweetheart. Have a think. Can you remember what you did with your mum and dad on New Year’s Eve? Were you having a nice time in the hotel?’
Georgie nods, her face serious, her brow crinkled with the effort of concentrating. ‘Yes. We went down to the beach but it was cold. So we came back up to the room where there was the fire and I went on the iPad for a bit. Mummy and Daddy had a drink and Charlie was having his nap. And then . . .’
‘That was when you remembered the kittens, wasn’t it?’ Jane cuts in. ‘Right during Charlie’s nap. The kittens in the kitchen?’
Hillier looks at Jane, willing her to keep quiet. They need Georgie to tell them in her own words what happened that afternoon. ‘Had you seen the kittens beforehand, Georgie?’ she asks.
‘Yes. They were so cute.’ She slides her eyes towards her mother. ‘Mummy and Daddy were talking and I didn’t want to play or watch the iPad any more so I went to find them.’
‘We said she could,’ Jane interjects, and it occurs to Hillier that she is embarrassed that they were drinking in the afternoon and letting their children run amok in the hotel unsupervised. Is that all it is – shame for a momentary lapse of attention? Or is there something else Jane Greenstreet is reluctant for them to discover?
‘We thought it would be safe, didn’t we, Declan? The kitchen is only just down the corridor from the lounge. I feel so bad about it now, of course,’ Jane says, her voice breaking, shaking her head.
‘Don’t you worry, Mrs Greenstreet,’ Hillier says, her face the picture of reassurance. ‘You aren’t to blame in the slightest. Why would you imagine anything could happen to Georgie in the hotel? It was a safe enough place.’
Jane looks down at the hospital blanket on the bed without answering, her fingernails white where she is digging them into her palms.
‘So, you wandered along to the kitchen,’ Gordon continues. ‘And did you see anyone in there?’
‘There was a man dressed in white. With hair like this.’ Georgie touches her shoulders.
‘Long hair? Longer than mine?’ Gordon asks.
‘Yes.’
Kaczka, thinks Hillier.
‘He showed me into the cupboard where they keep all the food. And there was the box with the kittens in.’
‘And did the man stay with you?’ Hillier asks, her heart-rate increasing a little.
‘No.’ The child shakes her head. ‘He gave me some milk to put down for the kittens and then he went outside and left me there to play.’
Hillier nods. ‘And then what happened, sweetie? How long did you stay there?’
‘Don’t know. One of the kittens was crying and they’d drunk all the milk. They needed more.’
‘From the kitchen?’
Georgie nods.
‘So you left the pantry. The cupboard.’
‘I picked the kitten up and came outside. But they were shouting in the kitchen. I didn’t want to get in trouble. And the man was gone . . .’
Hillier’s thoughts hover over the image of Kaczka’s face, questioning whether this means he’s out of the frame or whether he came back, after Georgie thought he’d left.
‘. . . So I wanted to find Mummy and ask her. But then I walked out of the door and I couldn’t find my way back. ’Cause I was in the room where we eat and I didn’t know which way to go.’ Georgie is crying now, tears falling down cheeks still raw and red from the ice storm.
Jane Greenstreet shifts abruptly on her seat, her hands picking at the bedclothes. ‘Is this really necessary? Georgie’s tired. She’s exhausted. Look at her. You’re upsetting her.’
‘It’s all right, Georgie,’ Gordon says. ‘I know it’s hard remembering. You were frightened, weren’t you?’
‘We do need to ask these questions, Mrs Greenstreet,’ Hillier puts in. ‘I’m sorry but it is important.’
‘I realise that,’ Jane says, her fingers now tight on Georgie’s arm. ‘But I don’t want her distressed any more than she already has been.’
Hillier says nothing. After a beat, Gordon nods at Georgie encouragingly.
‘The kitten was crying,’ the girl continues, ‘it jumped out of my hands and ran off and then the other ones came and followed it because it was miaowing, making this funny noise. I picked them up and I tried to find the first one but he was gone and then I was outside and it was cold and dark.’ She breaks off, her face crumpling in a sob. ‘And I just wanted Mummy.’
‘That’s enough,’ Jane says, getting to her feet. ‘I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Georgie is OK now. She’s safe and I won’t have her terrified in this way. It’s not on.’
‘Mr Greenstreet?’ Gordon turns and appeals to Georgie’s father.
‘You heard my wife,’ Declan adds. ‘Perhaps it’s better if you come back another time.’
Gordon and Hillier exchange glances.
‘Mr and Mrs Greenstreet,’ Gordon says. ‘It’s really in Georgie’s best interests that we find out what happened. If there’s someone out there who wants to hurt . . .’ His voice trails away as he takes in the child looking at him wide-eyed from the bed. ‘Well, maybe we can wait a little bit. Just until she’s feeling better.’ He looks at Hillier nonplussed.
‘Good,’ Jane says as she moves to the door and opens it for them. ‘What Georgie needs now is rest. She doesn’t need to be reminded of this . . . this terrible time.’
‘All right, Mrs Greenstreet,’ Hillier says, bringing herself to her feet. ‘As you wish. We’ll come back soon.’
She leaves the room after Gordon, closing the door behind them. Outside in the corridor, they look at one another.
‘Odd,’ Gordon says.
‘Odd?’ Hillier replies, a frown creasing her face. ‘Sarge, odd isn’t even the half of it.’