‘Right, Sophia. Did you manage to follow up from this morning?’
‘Here are the copies of Jane’s photo.’ She passed across a small pile of colour copies. ‘Pretty girl, wasn’t she? So full of life and energy.’
Ridpath picked up the top copy. ‘The more I look at this photo, the less I understand why she went missing. There seems to be no real reason, other than something bad happened to her. Or perhaps we’re not seeing the full picture, just looking at the surface; a young, pretty girl with her whole life in front of her.’
There was a moment’s silence between them, before he asked, ‘Anything from the school?’
‘I rang them. Luckily, the school secretary had worked there since the dark ages. She remembered the disappearance of Jane, caused a big stir in the school, she told me. Her form teacher is long gone, but the present day deputy head, a Mr Roscoe, taught her history. I’m interviewing him tomorrow at eight thirty before school starts. Want to come?’
‘No, you handle it. I’m up to my eyes in stuff. Make sure he understands we may call him for the inquest.’
‘Will do. It’s all a bit of rush, isn’t it?’
‘Anything else?’
‘I think so.’
‘Go on…’
‘Jane Ryder said she was going to a festival. I thought it might have been Glastonbury, since it’s such a rite of passage for her age group.’
‘But…’
‘Glastonbury didn’t start until June 24 in 2009. There were three music festivals taking place on the weekend she disappeared. One was the Download Festival at Donington Park between Derby and Leicester. A real headbangers’ convention this one, featuring Whitesnake, Mötley Crüe and a host of other heavy metal bands.’
‘Not a bad line-up.’
She grimaced and continued speaking. ‘Another was on the Isle of Wight, with The Prodigy, Neil Young, Stereophonics and Simple Minds. Much more my cup of camomile tea.’
‘Seems a long way to travel.’
‘That’s what I thought. The third was in Manchester at Platt Fields, the Mad Ferret Festival, set up by a bunch of students. It later became Parklife.’
Ridpath’s eyes tightened. ‘I think I know the festival. I may have even worked there.’
His mind went back to one of his first jobs as a probationary constable. It was the summer Polly was pregnant with Eve, and he was working all the overtime he could get to save up for the birth.
Had he worked in Platt Fields?
A festival kept coming back to him in flashes, like clips from a film. Hot sun shining in a cloudless sky. Him in his shirtsleeves and helmet. A briefing from a sergeant at the station. Vaguely remembered words; low key, be friendly, don’t arrest unless trouble, safeguarding not a police role, ignore drug taking unless evidence of dealing. Loud music played off-key and an endless, hot summer day, watching all the students having a great time.
He’d gone in the van with Sergeant Mungovan.
‘Got your sunscreen?’
‘No, Sergeant.’
‘You’re gonna need it. Here, borrow mine.’
Walking from the van to the positions on the outskirts of the park, just inside the festival’s hastily erected fence. The whistling of ‘Colonel Bogey’ by the students as the coppers marched along bringing a smile to his face.
The music, loud and boring, or soft and melancholic. He would have preferred to have listened to Bowie or danced to Northern Soul, but there was none. It was student music with all its lack of melody or harmony. Only The Streets were at all interesting, Mike Skinner prowling the stage like a young Bowie.
He’d earned a nice bit of overtime. He’d even volunteered for the next day, though it was his time off.
He never worked another festival afterwards, already being fast-tracked as detective material while Eve grew older and Polly went on to train as a teacher. Somehow, he missed out on the whole festival experience, never going to Parklife or even to Glastonbury.
Days he missed that he would never see again.
‘Didn’t Jane Ryder’s parents say she was going to be away for the weekend, returning on Sunday evening?’ said Sophia, interrupting his memories.
‘Yeah, so she could have gone to any of them.’
‘I’ll call and check if the names Mad Ferret, Donington or the Isle of Wight ring a bell.’
‘I don’t think they will. The father seemed distracted and the mother, well, her drugs…’ Ridpath didn’t finish the sentence. ‘The less we disturb the family these days, the better.’
‘OK, I’ll follow up on the festivals, see if I can find out more.’ She checked her watch. ‘Weren’t you supposed to be picking up Eve?’
‘Not until five p.m., for once I’m not rushing around. She has the school computing club today. They are coding some game or other. You know she helps me when I can’t work out stuff on the computer. It’s a bit embarrassing, if I’m honest.’
‘She can come round to my place if she wants, give my mum lessons.’
‘A new business for me: hiring my daughter out as a computer consultant. Not a bad idea.’ As he spoke, his mobile phone rang. It was Dave Connor.
‘Hi Ridpath, Hannah rang me. We have a hit on the DNA of one of the hands.’