by David Blake
After the family ate dinner at the nearby pub, they returned to their floating home. With the children in bed, and with his wife lying down with them, Alan enjoyed a quiet couple of hours sitting in the wheelhouse, doing nothing more than enjoying a couple of glasses of wine whilst listening to the gentle sounds of the Broads, as dusk slipped into the dark peace of night.
The following day they spent a leisurely morning exploring the village of Thurne, along with some of the idyllic countryside beyond. They had lunch at the same pub they’d dined at the previous evening, and decided they’d motor over to Horning for the afternoon, as it wasn’t too far away. From the pictures they’d seen, it was definitely worth a visit.
As they all began clambering back on board, Alan asked Kate, ‘If I start the engine, do you think you’d be able to put their life jackets on?’
‘Of course I can!’ she snapped back. ‘I’m not completely stupid!’
With an exasperated look, desperate not to have yet another argument, Alan said, ‘I didn’t mean that you couldn’t, I was just asking if you could. That was all!’
‘Well, it’s not as if I haven’t done it before!’ came her response, as her head disappeared down into the front cabin.
‘Thank you!’ replied Alan, loud enough to ensure that she would hear him.
Shaking his head in disbelief that his marriage had reached the point where he wasn’t even able to ask his wife to do something without having his head bitten off in the process, he pulled out the boat’s keys from his jeans’ pocket and climbed onto the high seat behind the wheel. Inserting the key into the ignition, he turned it all the way around and held it there for three seconds, as he’d been instructed to. That was supposed to warm up the diesel’s engine’s heating element. He then let go of the key and placed his finger over the black engine start button. Pausing for a moment, he said a silent prayer that the engine would start. It had always done so far, but he wouldn’t have known what to have done if it hadn’t. Depressing the button, he held it down for a few moments, patiently listening to the engine whir around a few times before chugging thankfully into life. The moment it did, he removed his finger from the button and turned to look behind him. There he saw a thick cloud of exhaust smoke billow over the stern of the boat to begin heading in his direction. A moment later it engulfed the cockpit. He closed his mouth and held his breath. He’d no intention of breathing in the noxious fumes.
With the engine started, it was time to cast off the mooring lines, but he was going to need help to do so. Assuming he’d either said, or maybe not said something that had upset his wife, he’d have preferred not to ask her, but he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t do it on his own. Leaning over towards the front cabin entrance, he called down, ‘Honey, I don’t suppose you could give me a hand casting off?’
‘I’m a bit busy at the moment,’ came her muffled response. ‘Can’t Harry help you?’
Harry was now nearly twelve, but Alan still didn’t think he was old enough. Although mature for his age, he lacked the upper body strength that would be needed, especially if something went wrong.
‘I’m not sure he’s quite ready yet,’ replied Alan, which was exactly what he’d said the last two times she’d suggested it.
Harry’s little blonde head popped itself out of the cabin, and with imploring blue eyes, said, ‘I can do it, Daddy! Look, I’ve even put on my own life jacket!’
‘I’m sure you can Harry, but I’m not convinced you’re strong enough, not yet anyway.’
‘Oh, please, Daddy, let me!’
Alan stared down at his angelic face, and with a sigh signifying his reluctant capitulation, said, ‘Very well.’
‘YES!’ Harry pumped his fist in the air, and with a victorious smile he scrambled over the side of the open cockpit, jumped down onto the grass verge and charged forwards, heading towards the front of the boat.
‘But you must be careful!’ Alan called out after him, somewhat belatedly.
There was no response. Harry had already reached the rope that secured the bow and was tugging at the knot in an effort to untie it.
Watching him struggle just to do that, Alan was already regretting his decision, and cursed Kate for having suggested it. Not only did Harry lack physical strength, but he could hardly swim. If he fell in between the boat and the hard wooden siding when pushing off, and if a breeze were to force the boat back against the bank, the result would be unimaginable!
Remembering something, Alan slid off the driver’s seat and grabbed hold of a spare white plastic fender that had been lying on the floor. Taking it by a short length of rope that was attached to one end, he climbed out of the cockpit and carefully made his way along the narrow walkway, all the way to the front. By the time he got there, Harry had managed to untie the knot and was standing with his feet apart, holding the line with both hands held out in front of him.
Crouching down at the boat’s bow, Alan said, ‘Here, take this,’ and passed him the fender. ‘Now, remember what the man said who handed the boat over to us. If the boat looks like it’s going to hit something, whatever you do, don’t use your arms or legs to try and push if off! The boat’s just too heavy. Use the fender instead by jamming it between the boat and whatever it is that it’s going to hit. Do you understand?’
Taking the fender, with a serious expression etched over his lightly freckled young face, Harry looked up at his father and said, ‘I understand, Daddy.’
‘OK, good. I’m going to untie the rope at the back of the boat. When I’ve done that, I’ll return to the cockpit. There’s nothing moored up behind us, so I’m going to reverse out, into the river, going that way,’ and he pointed in the direction he was going to go. ‘As I’m going out, follow the boat down the mooring, and when I say so, push the boat off and step on board at the same time.’
‘Yes, Daddy.’
‘Whatever you do, don’t leave yourself stranded on the bank!’
‘I won’t, Daddy.’
‘But if you can’t get on the boat, I’d rather you stayed on the bank than risk falling in the water.’
As a wave of doubt swept over Alan’s mind, he said, ‘Are you sure you’re OK to do this? I can always get Mummy to do it.’
‘I can do it, Daddy, I promise!’
Alan stared deep into his son’s translucent blue eyes. Maybe it was time he stopped being so protective of him. After all, in little more than a year’s time he’d be a teenager.
‘OK, now remember – follow the boat down the mooring and when I give the signal, push it out and step on board.’
Seeing Harry nod, Alan turned to make his way to the back of the boat. There he jumped down onto the grass, untied the mooring line, and with the rope in hand, climbed back on board, dropping the line on the deck as he did so. He then made his way back to the cockpit, sat down on the chair and turned the wheel all the way round to the right. Checking that the river was clear of traffic, with his left hand on the wheel and his right hand on the throttle, he gradually brought the lever down towards him. As he did so, the rumbling noise from the engine increased and the boat began pulling itself backwards, away from the bank, out into the river.
Seeing Harry was following the nose of the boat up the bank, rope in one hand, fender in the other, he was just about to tell him to push it off and step on board when the tone of the engine changed from a low rumble to a much louder churning noise. Then there was a sudden jolt, after which – nothing, and instead of the boat continuing to reverse out, it began drifting along with the current.
‘Shit,’ he said, quietly to himself, and placed the lever back into neutral again. It sounded like something had caught in the propeller.
As half the boat jutted out into the middle of the river, the current began to take hold of it, and with no engine to stop it, the boat was starting to drift downriver at a steadily increasing pace.
Glancing over at the bank, Alan could see that Harry was already having to walk a little faster just to keep up
with it. Doing his best to remain calm, he called out, ‘Hold on, Harry! The propeller must have caught on something. I’m going to try to go forward and see if that clears it.’
Harry gave him another nod, but with far less confidence that time.
Not wasting another moment, Alan eased the throttle lever into the forward position, but after a clunking sound, followed by the same low churning noise, there was nothing but a dull whine.
The boat was being swept along faster now.
From the shore, Harry called out, ‘I can’t hold it, Daddy!’
Alan could feel himself beginning to panic. He could see Harry was almost running along the bank just to keep up with the boat, bow line in one hand, fender in the other. It was too late for him to jump on board. It was moving too quickly. And there was no way he’d have the strength to stop it, which would leave him stranded on the bank, watching helplessly as his parents were swept away by the river. Alan wasn’t even sure that he’d be able to stop it, but he felt he had no choice but to try.
Abandoning his position by the wheel, he leapt out of the cockpit, onto the side of the boat and scrambled forwards towards the bow, as fast as he could without going over the edge. Once there, he kept going, leaping off the end to land on the grass bank, near to where Harry was, still holding onto the bow line.
By the time Alan picked himself up, Harry was already a good ten feet away, and Alan had to launch into a sprint just to catch him up.
As he did, between breaths he said, ‘It’s OK, Harry…I’ve got it,’ taking the rope as he did so.
Slowly, he took up the slack.
As the rope tightened, he pulled back on its end with all his strength, digging his heels into the grass bank as he did.
The boat did seem to slow, but there was no way he was going to be able to stop it. It was just too heavy, and the current was far too strong.
Looking further along the bank, Alan saw there was a purpose-built concrete mooring, at the far end of which was a highly polished wooden sailing boat. If their plastic boat ploughed into it, it would be wrecked, there was no doubt about that!
With rising desperation, Alan spotted a series of steel cleats lining the mooring’s edge. If he could somehow loop the bow line around the nearest one, he thought it should give him enough leverage to bring the boat to a halt. He wasn’t sure it would, but it was looking as if he had no other choice. It was either that, or letting go of the bow line, so allowing the boat to be sucked out into the middle of the river, adrift with no engine, with his wife and two other children still on board.
It wasn’t an option. However, if he missed the first cleat he could see that looping the bow line around the next one down would probably swing the whole thing straight into the wooden yacht ahead, crushing it like an egg in the process.
When the first cleat was only about ten feet away, Alan again took up the slack, dug his heels into the grass and heaved back once more. The boat slowed; he raced forward, looped the bow line once around the cleat and pulled back on it again.
To his huge relief, the boat gradually came to a gentle halt.
Seeing that the boat’s aft end was swinging naturally in towards the mooring, he called over to Harry, ‘Run ahead! When the back of the boat comes in, use the fender to stop it from hitting the side. Then see if you can grab the rope I left on the deck and try to loop it around that t-shaped metal thing on the ground, like I’ve done.’
Without replying, Harry sprinted forward, reaching the edge of the mooring just in time to drop the fender down between the hard standing and the stern of the boat as it swung in towards him.
Harry watched as the boat forced itself up against the fender, its thick white rubber surface squeaking in protest. Without letting go of the fender’s tether, Harry reached forward, took a hold of the stern line that was lying on the deck, where his dad had said it would be, and dragged it back towards the cleat. There he looped it once around, as he’d seen his dad do, and pulled back on the rope.
With the boat secure against the quay, he glanced over to the front, where he could see that his dad was busy securing the bow line around the cleat. Determined to be helpful, he peered down into the water, where the propeller was, looking for whatever it was that had caught up in it.
There, watching him from underneath the water, was the face of a woman; eyes wide, mouth apart, hair swirling like a nest of snakes.
A cold wave of fear swept along Harry’s limbs, freezing him where he stood.
The woman’s eyes seemed to fix on his.
Everything stopped, everything except his heart, which pounded hard, deep inside his chest.
Then he saw her lips move, and Harry let out a terrified scream.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BACK AT WROXHAM Police Station, Tanner and Jenny had only just sat down at their respective desks when they saw DCI Barrington’s head poke out from his office. ‘Tanner! Evans! A word, please!’ he called, and disappeared back inside.
They looked at each other, shrugged and stood up to weave their way between the various chairs and desks.
Tanner whispered, ‘He doesn’t sound very happy.’
In a similar hushed tone, Jenny said, ‘Between you and me, he rarely does.’
‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any idea what this is about?’
‘Not a clue. Sorry!’
Stepping through Barrington’s half-open door, Tanner cleared his throat. ‘You wanted to see us, sir?’
Barrington glanced up from his computer monitor. ‘Come in, both of you. And close the door behind you.’
With the door shut, and without asking them to sit down, Barrington leaned forward, and asked, ‘Can one of you please explain to me why you didn’t think it was necessary to tell me who that girl’s parents are?’
Tanner was confused. ‘You mean the missing girl?’
‘Of course I mean the missing girl! Why didn’t either of you tell me who they are?’
After Tanner and Jenny had exchanged similar blank looks, Tanner replied, ‘The husband said he was going to call them first, so we’ve yet to even speak to them, sir.’
‘Well, I’ve just had her father on the line. He’s none other than John bloody Lambert!’
Tanner had heard the name somewhere, but couldn’t for the life of him remember where.
‘Of Lambert Oak?’ prompted Barrington. ‘As in the pub chain?’
Having made the connection, Tanner was still none the wiser as to its significance. Unsure how best to respond, he just stood there awaiting enlightenment.
‘So?’ Barrington eventually asked.
‘Sorry, sir, I’m not with you.’
‘Has she turned up yet?’
‘Oh, the girl! Not yet, no, sir. But as I explained on the phone, her husband has hardly lifted a finger to do anything to find her, so we’re still expecting her to show up at either a friend’s house, or possibly with some member of her family.’
‘Well, she’s not with her parents, I know that much!’
‘Right.’
Returning to his monitor, Barrington reached for the mouse, saying, ‘I’m ramping this up to high priority. We need her found, and fast!’
‘And why’s that?’ snapped Tanner. ‘Because she’s the daughter of some pub chain owner?’
‘He’s not just some pub chain owner!’ retorted Barrington. ‘Apart from being one of the most well-known people from around these parts, he’s also one of the richest men in the UK!’
‘I see. And that makes his daughter more important than everyone else’s, does it?’
Remembering what had happened to Tanner’s own daughter, Barrington strove for a little more restraint. ‘It doesn’t make her more important, no, but it does introduce another possibility, one that would have been useful to have known about, and certainly before now.’
Tanner kicked himself. He’d allowed his emotions to overshadow his reasoning. It was now glaringly obvious what Barrington was referring to, although there was on
e thing missing.
‘Has there been a ransom demand?’ he asked, with more control.
‘Not yet,’ stated Barrington. ‘But that doesn’t mean we can rule it out. One thing I’m fairly sure of, though, is that it’s a possibility that’s been playing on Mr Lambert’s mind. He’s just accused me of having done less than nothing to try to find her, and threatened that if we don’t make a bit more of an effort, he’s going to be calling my boss, Superintendent Whitaker, to demand my resignation.’
‘That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?’ said Tanner. ‘I mean, she was only reported missing this morning!’
‘I suspect the man’s just a little upset, seeing that he’s only just found out that his daughter seems to have disappeared. I’m sure we can all appreciate just how distressing that news must have been for him,’ he added, his eyes fixed firmly on Tanner.
At that moment there was a knock, closely followed by the man Tanner now knew to be his counterpart, DI Burgess, peering around the door.
Barrington scowled at him. ‘Yes! What is it?’
Realising he must have walked in at a bad time, Burgess said, ‘Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I thought you’d better know that a body’s been found.’
A stunned silence fell over the room, as everyone stared at Burgess.
With a look of pure exasperation, Barrington eventually said, ‘Please God, tell me it’s not John Lambert’s daughter!’
‘I’m afraid we don’t know who it is yet, sir,’ related Burgess. ‘There’s no ID, but the body does appear to be that of a young woman.’
Clasping his hands together, Barrington raised them up to his mouth as if he was about to start praying.
In the silence that followed, unsure as to what else to say, Burgess eventually came out with, ‘I’ve asked forensics to go down, sir.’
As if emerging from a trance, Barrington looked up at him and said, ‘Good, yes, of course; but I don’t want anyone else knowing about this, not until we know who she is. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, sir!’
As he turned to leave, Barrington called out after him, ‘And I want Tanner to take the lead on this one.’