‘They have phones, then?’
She smiled. ‘They’re not exactly the Amish.’
‘So what are they?’
‘Remember what I said about what brings people here?’
‘Shit happening elsewhere?’
‘Fresh start’s what they aspire to. That and saving the planet. So should I phone?’
Rebus considered his options and gave a nod. But when she tried, there was no answer.
‘Maybe leave it an hour and try again,’ she suggested. ‘You can always park yourself with a drink and the paper.’
Rebus shook his head. ‘But I’ll leave the car key with you if that’s okay. When you need me, I’ll be at Samantha’s.’
‘I could give you a lift.’
‘And shut the bar?’ Rebus shook his head. ‘Despite appearances, I’ve still got the use of my legs.’
‘So I might see you out jogging later?’
‘That’s always been more of a morning thing with me.’ Rebus gave a wave as he made his exit, grabbing the toothbrush and toothpaste from the unlocked Saab and stuffing them into his pocket.
He was half lying on the sofa in the living room – and probably three quarters asleep – when Carrie came careering through the front door, leaving duffel coat, backpack and shoes in her wake. She drew up short at the sight of him. He met Samantha’s eyes.
‘I wasn’t sure you’d still be here,’ she said, explaining why his appearance was coming as a surprise to his granddaughter.
‘Hiya, Carrie,’ he said, opening his arms. Carrie marched forward as if into battle, resting her head against his shoulder as he embraced her and kissed the top of her head. Her hair was fair, cut short, her face round, eyes inquisitive. ‘You look more like your mum every day,’ he said.
‘Mum’s got grey hair,’ Carrie countered.
‘I mean when she was your age.’
Carrie studied him. ‘Can I see a photo?’
‘Of your mum?’ He made show of patting his pockets. ‘I don’t have one on me.’
‘You’ve got a phone.’
‘Grandad doesn’t keep photos on his phone,’ Samantha said, coming forward to rub her daughter’s hair.
‘Why not?’
‘Let’s get you some milk and a biscuit.’ Samantha started ushering Carrie towards the kitchen, head half turned towards her father. ‘Do you want anything? Are you staying for dinner?’
‘My car’s died on me.’
‘Wondered where it was.’
‘They said in the village Jess Hawkins was my best bet.’
Samantha didn’t answer. Rebus got to his feet and followed her into the kitchen.
‘It’s probably true,’ she said as she poured out the milk. Carrie had settled at the table and was busying herself with what looked like her own personal iPad. ‘I mean, there’ll be someone there who can help.’
‘Where does he live?’
‘Towards Tongue.’
‘So near Camp 1033, then?’
‘Practically next door.’
‘I took a look at all the stuff in the garage.’
‘So you’ll appreciate it’s become a bit of an obsession with Keith.’ Samantha glanced at her own phone before slipping it back into her pocket – still no message.
‘Where’s Daddy?’ Carrie asked.
‘Working,’ Samantha said.
‘He’s always working,’ Carrie complained. ‘When I grow up I’m not going to do any work.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ Rebus said. Then, to his daughter: ‘Where’s the nearest B and B?’
‘You can stay here,’ she said, placing a plate of biscuits on the table.
‘You’ve not got room.’
‘We’ve got a sofa. You’d like Grandad to stay with us, wouldn’t you, Carrie?’
Carrie glanced up, but whatever was on the screen was the focus of her attention now, and Rebus failed to catch her mumbled response.
‘Once Carrie’s in bed, we can do some catching up,’ Samantha continued. ‘And you can tell me why you no longer have a landline. I did a bit of thinking and my guess is you’ve moved.’ She stared him out until he nodded. ‘Moved and not told me,’ she said. Her voice was emotionless but her eyes weren’t.
‘It literally happened yesterday,’ Rebus argued. ‘I was going to phone you today.’
‘It’s the stairs, isn’t it? You can’t manage the stairs any more.’
Carrie looked up. ‘Why not?’
‘I’m getting a bit creaky,’ Rebus explained.
‘Are you going to die?’ She sounded curious rather than fearful.
‘Not for a while yet.’
‘Daddy spends all his time with dead people.’
Samantha tried to laugh. ‘That’s not true, Carrie.’
‘In the garage.’ She flapped an arm towards the outside world. ‘All the photos and the names – hardly any of them are still alive.’
Samantha jumped as her phone sounded, her face falling as she saw the name of the caller on the screen. ‘Jenny’s mum,’ she said, answering. Carrie gave a little wave, as if Jenny could see her. Samantha walked into the hallway. Arrangements for a play meet seemed to be the subject under discussion.
‘I need to make a call too,’ Rebus informed his granddaughter, checking for a signal – one bar; good enough. Samantha was in the living room, so he stood in the hallway and tapped in the number, wondering how Siobhan Clarke was going to react to the news he was about to give her.
4
‘So when will you be back?’ Siobhan Clarke, phone pressed to her ear, watched Brillo sniffing the grass thirty-odd feet away. The dog suddenly squatted, and Clarke gestured for Fox to take the small black polythene bag from her outstretched hand. His face registered an objection, quickly countered by her glare.
The Meadows was relatively busy: a few barbecues they’d had to coax Brillo away from; an improvised game of football; joggers and cyclists; toddlers connected to their wary parents by reins; prone students readying to rouse themselves for an evening elsewhere.
‘Can’t you just rent another one?’ Clarke asked, watching Fox as he crouched to complete his task. He looked for the nearest bin and strode towards it, while Brillo returned to tracking some invisible spoor.