Thirty-Nine

Kieran had been experiencing the most fraught evening of his life.

After leaving the village, he had driven to Ruth’s flat in town. Taking the stairs two at a time, he got to her door and opened it with his own keys, fully expecting to find Ruth and Theo there, despite her refusal to answer the phone.

But the flat had been in darkness. Switching on the lights in each room, he found no evidence of Theo there. Opening the wardrobes, he found Ruth’s suitcases and clothes all apparently still in place. There was no note, no clue to where she had gone. He picked up her phone and rang the surgery, and was rewarded only with a recorded message for emergencies. He riffled through Ruth’s telephone book, and rang Dr Godber, who spent a long minute bitterly complaining that Ruth had not turned up for evening surgery. Kieran gave the man his own mobile number with a request that he phone him should he hear of Ruth’s whereabouts—or from Ruth herself.

In desperation he rang the Priory again, to hear that same dead empty tone. He speculated wildly that Ruth might have taken Theo to the hospital, perhaps assuming that Lin had gone back there when she could not be found at the Priory. The ward sister answered his call.

‘Dr Carmichael?’ she repeated, obviously confused. ‘And your son? No, I’m sorry …’

Then he had rung Harry.

Just for a second he considered telling Lin that Theo was missing; then he realized that it could do no earthly good. Lin was sick enough, worried enough already. What she didn’t know about couldn’t possibly harm her.

Kieran walked about Ruth’s flat in an impotent fury, steeling himself to stay there in case she should suddenly arrive home. Perhaps she had taken Theo to the cinema, or out for a meal? He waited, on a knife edge of anxiety, until the last pub and cinema would have closed.

At last he sat down on the couch, and put his hand out to the phone to call the police. It was half past eleven.

Before he could lift the reciver, it rang.

‘Ruth?’ he said.

‘No,’ said an elderly female voice. ‘Who is that?’

Christ, he thought. That’s all I need: some confused old woman taking up the line.

‘You’ve got a wrong number,’ he said.

‘Is that Dr Carmichael’s flat?’

‘Yes. But the doctor isn’t on call.’

‘I don’t want her actually. I wanted Lin Gallagher.’

Kieran stared at the receiver. ‘Who is this?’

‘My name is Edith Channon. I wanted to speak to Lin.’

‘How did you get this number?’

‘She left me a list of numbers. This was the second on the list.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Kieran said, ‘I don’t know you. This is Lin’s husband.’

There was a pause. ‘I see,’ she said. ‘And is Lin there?’

‘No, she’s in London.’

‘London? What on earth is she doing there?’

‘I really don’t know. Look, if you could just ring back later, I have to make an important call now.’

‘Not more important than this one,’ came Edith’s peremptory reply. ‘It’s about her little boy.’

Kieran’s impatience vanished in an instant. ‘Theo?’

‘Yes. They were staying in my upstairs flat until Lin went into hospital …’

Light dawned on Kieran at last. ‘You’re the lady in Hampton. The lady with the doll shop?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Is Theo all right?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Is Theo all right?’

‘I don’t think so, dear. No, I don’t think so. Is Lin out of hospital?’

‘Yes. Look—’

‘She ought not to be, you know.’

God, was she never going to shut up?

‘Please tell me where Theo is,’ Kieran said.

Something in his tone must have struck Edith. He heard sympathy in her reply. ‘I will, dear,’ she said. ‘But I need something of his. There isn’t a scrap left in the flat. And I need something … a toy, a piece of clothing. A shoe would be rather good.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Kieran said. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘I’m going to find him,’ Edith said, palpably summoning her utmost patience. ‘But I can’t do it without your help.’

Kieran struggled to hold on to his temper. ‘If you know where my son is, tell me,’ he said. ‘I’m not in the bloody mood for playing games, Mrs Channon. If you don’t tell me, I’m ringing the police.’

There was an offended silence, during which he could hear Edith taking a long, deep breath. ‘Ring them by all means,’ she said, ‘and you can tell them whatever you know. I doubt if that’s much.’

‘It isn’t,’ Kieran muttered under his breath, ‘you mad old witch.’

If she heard him, Edith took no notice.

‘And then get in your car and drive over here,’ she told him. ‘And please don’t forget the shoe.’

On his way to Edith’s, Lin rang.

Kieran answered the mobile, pulled into a lay-by, heard Lin’s barely restrained panic … and then the burring of the disconnected line.

For a moment he rested his head on the steering wheel.

‘What the bloody hell is going on?’ he whispered, before restarting the engine.