unmistakable.
‘We’ve been looking for Justine,’ Drew said. ‘That is …’
‘We’ve been worried about her,’ Maggs interposed fluently. ‘She hasn’t been answering her phone, you see. And she’s missed one or two appointments. So we thought we should come and make sure she’s all right.’
The man asked the obvious question. ‘How did you get in?’
Maggs and Drew glanced at each other; they hadn’t rehearsed the answer to this one. ‘A friend of hers told us where to find the key,’ Maggs offered. ‘You must know how careless Justine is about things like that.’
‘You know her?’ His eyes narrowed disbelievingly. ‘Who are you, for God’s sake? I’ve never seen either of you before in my life.’
Drew couldn’t explain afterwards why he’dinstinctively withheld any mention of Penn. She hadn’t asked him to, and her name would surely have smoothed the way quite effectively. He could only suppose that it was something to do with her connection to Karen, and a prudent feeling that it was wise to reveal as little as possible.
‘My name’s Slocombe and this is my business partner,’ he said. ‘You won’t have heard of us. We’re old friends of Justine’s from before she came to live here. We know her mother, actually.’
The man finally came into the kitchen and stood where they could see him properly. He was tall and muscular with a heavy jaw and thick dark brows. ‘Well I’m Philip Renton,’ he said, ‘and I own this place. Justine is my tenant and I can assure you there’s no reason at all to worry about her. I know for a fact that she’s gone off for a little holiday. Camping, I think she said. So you can go back to wherever you came from and assure all those friends and relatives that everything’s fine. She’ll be back soon. I’ll tell her you dropped by, shall I?’
Drew spent a long time considering the face before him. The eyes hardly moved, as if the brain behind them was working overtime, and all the man’s attention was turned inward. There was no discernible warmth, no simple fellow feeling.
‘We came quite a long way, you know,’ Maggssaid reproachfully. ‘The place doesn’t really look as if she went camping.’
Renton laughed. ‘You think she should have tidied up first? Are you sure you know our Justine?’
‘I think she’d have taken her phone,’ said Maggs robustly.
The man glanced down at the mobile. ‘That’s her old one,’ he said. ‘She’ll have the current one in the car, in case she needs to use it. But she won’t want it in the tent with her. She’d want a break from all that rubbish.’
‘Car?’ Drew echoed. Penn hadn’t mentioned a car. Somehow it cast a different light on things.
‘Yes, car ,’ the man insisted. ‘Beige Metro, ancient thing it is now, but it seems to go all right. Passed its MOT only a few weeks ago, as it happens. After a bit of welding work.’
Despite the sudden thawing into something close to chattiness, Drew continued to feel that the man was monitoring his own words with enormous care. There was a lack of spontaneity in his delivery, a distance, as if he were speaking to them down a phone or from a platform. But at least he didn’t seem angry or suspicious any longer.
‘We’d better go.’ Drew turned to Maggs. ‘Do you think we can find our way back to the main road?’
‘Course we can,’ she smiled. Drew wanted to hug her for the way she hadn’t put her foot in anything. She hadn’t mentioned Penn or given anything away about where they came from.
‘Come on then,’ he smiled back. ‘Sorry if we alarmed you,’ he told Philip Renton. ‘Perhaps if you would be so kind as to tell Justine we were looking for her? I’d be very grateful.’
‘No problem,’ said Renton, following them out of the cottage.
‘What time is it?’ Drew asked, as they bumped the van back down the track.
‘Five past five.’
‘Let’s go to Okehampton and see if there’s a police station there.
‘We’ve been looking for Justine,’ Drew said. ‘That is …’
‘We’ve been worried about her,’ Maggs interposed fluently. ‘She hasn’t been answering her phone, you see. And she’s missed one or two appointments. So we thought we should come and make sure she’s all right.’
The man asked the obvious question. ‘How did you get in?’
Maggs and Drew glanced at each other; they hadn’t rehearsed the answer to this one. ‘A friend of hers told us where to find the key,’ Maggs offered. ‘You must know how careless Justine is about things like that.’
‘You know her?’ His eyes narrowed disbelievingly. ‘Who are you, for God’s sake? I’ve never seen either of you before in my life.’
Drew couldn’t explain afterwards why he’dinstinctively withheld any mention of Penn. She hadn’t asked him to, and her name would surely have smoothed the way quite effectively. He could only suppose that it was something to do with her connection to Karen, and a prudent feeling that it was wise to reveal as little as possible.
‘My name’s Slocombe and this is my business partner,’ he said. ‘You won’t have heard of us. We’re old friends of Justine’s from before she came to live here. We know her mother, actually.’
The man finally came into the kitchen and stood where they could see him properly. He was tall and muscular with a heavy jaw and thick dark brows. ‘Well I’m Philip Renton,’ he said, ‘and I own this place. Justine is my tenant and I can assure you there’s no reason at all to worry about her. I know for a fact that she’s gone off for a little holiday. Camping, I think she said. So you can go back to wherever you came from and assure all those friends and relatives that everything’s fine. She’ll be back soon. I’ll tell her you dropped by, shall I?’
Drew spent a long time considering the face before him. The eyes hardly moved, as if the brain behind them was working overtime, and all the man’s attention was turned inward. There was no discernible warmth, no simple fellow feeling.
‘We came quite a long way, you know,’ Maggssaid reproachfully. ‘The place doesn’t really look as if she went camping.’
Renton laughed. ‘You think she should have tidied up first? Are you sure you know our Justine?’
‘I think she’d have taken her phone,’ said Maggs robustly.
The man glanced down at the mobile. ‘That’s her old one,’ he said. ‘She’ll have the current one in the car, in case she needs to use it. But she won’t want it in the tent with her. She’d want a break from all that rubbish.’
‘Car?’ Drew echoed. Penn hadn’t mentioned a car. Somehow it cast a different light on things.
‘Yes, car ,’ the man insisted. ‘Beige Metro, ancient thing it is now, but it seems to go all right. Passed its MOT only a few weeks ago, as it happens. After a bit of welding work.’
Despite the sudden thawing into something close to chattiness, Drew continued to feel that the man was monitoring his own words with enormous care. There was a lack of spontaneity in his delivery, a distance, as if he were speaking to them down a phone or from a platform. But at least he didn’t seem angry or suspicious any longer.
‘We’d better go.’ Drew turned to Maggs. ‘Do you think we can find our way back to the main road?’
‘Course we can,’ she smiled. Drew wanted to hug her for the way she hadn’t put her foot in anything. She hadn’t mentioned Penn or given anything away about where they came from.
‘Come on then,’ he smiled back. ‘Sorry if we alarmed you,’ he told Philip Renton. ‘Perhaps if you would be so kind as to tell Justine we were looking for her? I’d be very grateful.’
‘No problem,’ said Renton, following them out of the cottage.
‘What time is it?’ Drew asked, as they bumped the van back down the track.
‘Five past five.’
‘Let’s go to Okehampton and see if there’s a police station there.
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