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the real hide. I’d thought it was better to talk face to face with Cyn about what I had learned so I’d driven straight to Crows Nest from the mountains. Now I wasn’t so sure. She was working herself up into a fury as she used to do when we were together and I’d transgressed.
    She paced the room with energy she’d summoned up from somewhere. ‘Cultists. What sort of a life must she have led? They’re insane, they have group sex. They …’
    â€˜Cyn, shut up! We’ll talk about this rationally or I’ll leave and phone that son of yours and get him to come over and take care of you.’
    â€˜You don’t know his number.’
    â€˜You think not?’
    â€˜God, you’re a bastard.’
    â€˜When I have to be. Why doesn’t your daughter come around? And you never talk about her.’
    Cyn sat down in one of the leather chairs and all the energy left her in a rush. ‘We’ve fallen out, Anne and I. It’s nothing serious.’
    I had my doubts about that and I wondered whether the falling out had contributed to the search for the lost child. I was out of my depth. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘The place of birth checks out. The date’s one day out, though. I suppose this Megan French could be your daughter.’
    â€˜Our
daughter.’
    I’d told Cyn about Meg French’s early academic record and about her jump across the creek. I hadn’t mentioned Talbot hitting her. ‘She’s athletic and bright …’
    â€˜And running around with some low-life. That’s you coming out in her.’
    â€˜Cyn.’
    She covered her face with her hands. Her hair flopped forward and suddenly, thin and frail in a silk dress that was loose on her, she looked old. She lifted her face and pushed back the hair. ‘I’m sorry, Cliff. I’m sorry. It’s late in the day. Would you like a drink?’
    â€˜I would. If you’ll have one.’
    â€˜I hardly slept at all last night. On all these pills sometimes you do and sometimes you don’t. It feels bloody late in the day to me. I generally have a brandy at seven o’clock when I watch the news. I think I’ll have one now. You?’
    â€˜Why not?’
    She went to the kitchen for ice and soda water and poured the brandy from a decanter on a shelf. The tray also held bottles of gin and Scotch—I would’ve preferred either of them, but what the hell.
    â€˜Cheers,’ she said. We touched glasses. ‘D’you remember when we used to like brandy, lime and soda? I wonder if people still drink that these days?’
    â€˜Haven’t heard of it lately,’ I said. ‘It wasn’t a bad drink though.’ I sipped. ‘This is pretty smooth.’
    But from the way she set it down on the arm of the chair I could tell that she wasn’t really interested in the alcohol. ‘So what’s your next move? It doesn’t sound as if you pushed very hard up there. They must know where she’d go.’
    I was enjoying the drink.
Brandy at 6.30,
I thought.
Have to watch out for that.
‘I don’t think so. The woman does possibly, but the husband’s got her hog-tied. You have to watch your step these days. Can’t throw your weight around like before. She’ll turn up again at this environmental thing.’
    She gestured impatiently, almost upsetting her glass. ‘So we just wait? That doesn’t sound like the old Cliff. Goes with the suit, does it?’
    I sipped the smooth brandy and didn’t say anything.
    â€˜French,’ Cyn mused. ‘Quite a nice name for such nasty people. You said that her … uncle I suppose we have to call him, spoke well of her?’
    â€˜Everything speaks well of her, Cyn, except her association with this Talbot. But for that, I wouldn’t be too worried.’
    â€˜Wouldn’t you? But that’s you all over, isn’t it? Not worrying about other