Unfortunately, Jim had other ideas. I had only been at home for a little while, running the bath and pouring myself a stiff Scotch, when the phone rang.
“Ange, would you mind if I came over?”
“No. Of course not,” I lied, thinking: “Shit! There goes my early night!” I turned off the bath taps, and decided on a shower instead. If Jim insisted on coming over I might as well make myself smell sexy.
It was a waste of time, really, because when he arrived he had only police business on his mind.
He settled himself in one of the easy chairs (that was a euphemism!) and put his feet up on the coffee table. “I want to run through this profile with you,” he said. “See if there’s anything we can use.”
“Yes, I had a nice weekend with Connie, thank you,” I said dryly. “Apart from the fact that she was taken suddenly ill in the car on the way home and she’s now an overnight guest in Solihull General Hospital.”
“Christ! I’m sorry, Ange. What the hell happened?”
I told him, in rather terse, shorthand sentences. He was quiet after I’d finished, then he said, “She’s quite something, that girl, isn’t she? I mean, she doesn’t do anything by halves. Is she going to be okay?”
I sighed. Men! They were incorrigible.
“I think so. We’ll know better in the morning. But I hope you’re not expecting anything remarkably intellectual from me tonight; I’m drained.”
“Yeah. I can understand that. Would you rather I went?”
I got up from the sofa and crossed over to his chair, taking him by the hand. “No. I don’t want you to go. What I want is an early night and a nice, warm, sexy male body to relax me. Interested?”
He grinned and pointed to his papers. “I suppose they’ll keep until tomorrow. Got to get our priorities right, haven’t we!”
I kissed him, if only to shut him up, and then led him into the bedroom; I don’t know what I would have done if Connie had still been occupying it!
* * * * * * * * * *
Connie was in the X-ray room having her scan when I rang the next morning. The ward sister assured me she had spent a restful night – more than you could say for me! – and she was feeling much better this morning. She could be discharged within the hour, so, this time, it was my turn to leave Jim a cryptic note on his pillow. I dressed quickly in blouse and jeans, and ankle socks (as opposed to those horrible police tights), checked that I had everything, and then quietly left the flat to the sound of Jim’s gentle snores.
It was a bloody awful day – a typical English Monday morning. The rain was positively sheeting it down and visibility on the roads was minimal.
I rang Paul from my mobile, en route to the hospital, to let him know they were discharging Connie and that I would meet up with him at lunchtime as arranged.
Connie was already waiting for me when I arrived; she still looked pale and drawn from the aftermath of her experience, but she managed to squeeze my hand and give me a wan smile. Then it took forever to complete the discharge procedures, principally because the consultant insisted we wait until the results of the MRI scan came through. Fortunately they were clear: no aneurisms or embolisms, or any other -isms; and no signs of brain damage. What he did comment on, however, was that there was evidence of intense electrical brain activity recently, but, to be fair to him, he did concede he wasn’t sure what, if anything, that signified.
Finally, we were on our way back to Ashworth House. It was the first opportunity I had to ask Connie if she could tell me what yesterday was all about.
She lay back in the seat resting her head, saying nothing for a while. When she did begin to speak her voice was flat and very matter-of-fact, as if these kind of experiences were now becoming commonplace.
“Do you remember when I had that awful vision about Josephine? And how much it took out of me?”
“Of course. And I also remember that the experience terrified you at the time.” I hesitated for a moment, and then asked, “Are you saying that yesterday was like that?”
“Sort of. And yet different; I’m not sure how to explain it, Angie.”
I stopped for traffic lights, which gave me the chance to reach across and squeeze her arm. “You don’t have to talk, Connie, if you don’t feel up to it. The main thing is that you’re alright physically, and, whatever it was, I’m just glad it hasn’t got to you like last time.”
“No,” she protested. “Really, I’m fine. It’s just that I don’t know how to describe what happened. It was all kinda weird. You know – more like a revelation than a vision.”
“Why don’t you tell it in your own way?” I said quietly. “Then, between us, we’ll try and make some sense out of it.”
“Okay. Well, I remember, one minute it was cloudy and spitting with rain, and the next it was a lovely sunny day. Only I wasn’t in the car.”
“Where were you, Connie?”
“In a park. And then in a playground in the park. There were lots of children, little boys and girls, laughing and shouting and having a good time. There were swings, a lot of them, and a roundabout and a slide; oh yeah, there was also a seesaw and a sandpit. It was very busy and very noisy. And I saw a number of women with the children; most of them were sitting on benches, talking, not really paying attention to the children.
“There was a man there as well – outside the playground, walking around the fencing. He was some kind of attendant, I think, because he was wearing a uniform – you know, like a policeman – but I couldn’t make out his face; it was hidden behind these big sunglasses.”
“Did something happen there, Connie?”
“No. Well, yes. But it hasn’t happened yet. I think I was seeing something that’s going to happen. That’s why it was different.”
“Want to tell me the rest?”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes for a moment as if to recreate the vision. “The man came into the playground and started talking to a little girl playing with her friend on some swings near to the entrance. He was smiling and pointing towards something outside the playground. Then the girl went off with him. Then – oh Christ, Angie!” she exclaimed, as if she was seeing it for the first time. “It was a set-up! The bastard snatched her. He had a kind of Range-Rover parked near to the playground - and he bundled her in and drove off.”
“Didn’t any of the mothers see or hear anything?”
“No. When the little girl tried to scream he clamped his hand over her mouth. It all happened so quickly. One minute it was a peaceful, innocent scene; the next, he’d grabbed her and disappeared. I don’t think there was time for anyone to notice – until it was too late.”
I didn’t know what to say. Jesus! How do you get your head round something like that? One day, I thought to myself, this girl is going to blow my mind.
I managed to find a parking spot close to Ashworth House. After I had pulled in I turned to Connie. She still had her eyes closed, reliving the experience.
“Are you okay?” I asked. She nodded, saying nothing.
“Yeah, thanks. I’m fine. I think it’s because it hasn’t happened yet.” She opened her eyes and turned to me. “That’s what’s so different about it, Angie. That’s what I meant when I said it was more like a revelation than a vision. Can you make any sense of it? ‘Cos I sure as hell can’t”
I sighed. “I don’t know about you, Connie, but these weird experiences of yours are wearing me out as well. And, no, I don’t really know what the revelation means. Unless...” I paused, filtering it through my mind.
“Unless what?”
“Unless it’s somehow connected to everything else that is going on, and someone is giving you a warning of future events.” I shook my head, puzzled. “But if that’s the case, they aren’t being terribly helpful.”
“How do you mean, Angie?”
“Well, if it is some kind of – shall we say? – mystical revelation, then you would expect whoever’s responsible to be a bit more forthcoming on detail. We don’t know, for instance, exactly where it is, do we? We don’t know who it is who snatches the child. And we don’t know when it’s gonna happen either. It’s all a bit vague, Connie, don’t you think?”
“I guess – but it’s not like tuning into the weather forecast you know! Perhaps I should go back and ask the perpetrator for his name, and the date and location? Maybe he’ll do it at a time to suit us… Do you think that might be helpful?”
We both started to laugh at that it was so ludicrous. “Let’s give it some more thought, shall we?” I suggested. “See if there’s any way we can make it work for us. Now,” I added, getting out of the car, “what about some lunch? I fancy one of your sandwiches.”
It wasn’t the least bit funny, though, I cautioned myself. And it certainly would be irresponsible to take Connie’s experience lightly. But, having said that, there really wasn’t an awful lot I – or anyone else – could do about it; other than to give it some serious thought and, in the meantime, file it away until I could talk to Jim about it.