‘Describe him.’
‘Grey hair. Fifties.’
Lucy’s gaze lands on her mother’s in the almost black air. Simone can only see the whites of her eyes and her outline, but her stare is lucid and clear. And then she asks a question which changes everything. ‘He wasn’t British, was he?’
CHAPTER 40
‘A British man came to camp on one of the days. I don’t know why. He just spoke to the owners, then left, but I overheard him,’ Lucy is gabbling, and Simone is excited.
‘Manchester accent?’ she asks.
‘I … Northern, I think,’ Lucy says, and she’s still talking quickly, does a great impression of him that matches Simone’s memory. ‘What if they were the same person?’ she asks. ‘Both British, both grey hair. Describe him, describe him more. Damn, I wish I’d got his fucking name!’
‘Me too.’
But there is an agony in Lucy’s buoyancy, because Simone simply doesn’t know. The north of England is a big place. It could be nothing. How cruel that Simone has met one man, and Lucy potentially another, and they cannot step into each other’s minds to see if they are the same. ‘Uhh.’ Simone tries to think. ‘Possibly he had quite distinctive bone structure? Sort of round apples to his cheeks?’
‘I’m sure this man did, too. Did he have quite wiry hair?’
‘Maybe,’ Simone answers.
‘Let’s think, let’s think,’ Lucy says, sitting forward. Her skin is luminous in the moonlight filtered through their tent. ‘Anything else? What was he wearing?’
‘I can’t think. I can’t remember,’ Simone says, and this is only partially true. Because Simone is also thinking of something else; she is one step ahead of Lucy. She is thinking ofthe ramifications of this discovery, hidden deep in both their memories. Of what it could mean if it’s true. ‘If this person was at your campandon my trip …’ she says.
‘Yeah?’
‘He was on the coach, keeping an eye on me … I was told to get a coach from a particular location,’ Simone says. Then she pauses, looking at her daughter, wondering how to ask it. ‘Lucy,’ she says quietly.
‘Hmm?’
‘Couldn’t it be him? He paid someone to guard you, and came on my coach?’
‘It could.’
‘And he’s British. Maybe he was distorting his voice because it’s so distinctive. We’d remember. We’d figure it out and put it together.’
‘Someone at camp, assessing candidates for kidnaps,’ Simone says, after a beat. ‘Then on the coach, checking that their candidates did what they were told.’
‘Camp. It’s the perfect solution, isn’t it? Kids filter through. Parents often coming to meet them, who’d do anything for them.’
‘Right.’ A beat. ‘It’s odd that he’s British. You definitely didn’t recognize him?’
‘No. You?’
‘No. Not at all.’
Lucy pauses, stumped. ‘We don’t even know enough to google,’ she says.
‘No name, no …’
‘Nothing.’
‘Pass me the phone,’ Lucy says, and as Simone does so she watches interestedly as Lucy clearly knows her way around a Motorola that she’s never encountered before.‘Now we know something, we need to find someone who can help us. If we find him, all we need to do is prove what he did. There must be some footage, some evidence, of him on that coach, anything!Wecan’t ask, but someone could ask someone in passport control who crossed the border, couldn’t they?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Did you contact Airbnb?’ Lucy says. ‘There’s a reply.’
