‘Father Christmas?’ Mark repeated, but to Livvie.
Ginny pointed upwards and mimed. What the hell? ‘A chimney?’ she whispered.
‘Did you come down a chimney?’ Mark ventured.
Everyone except Mark heard her sob. Actually, he might just have done too.
Fran murmured into his ear, ‘Can you keep talking to her? Zac’s on his way, tell her. And Bethany and their baby.’
‘Of course.’ Mark pressed to the wall as if hugging the child to him and shouted. ‘Mummy’s coming too. And Jack. They won’t be long, Livvie. And I’ll stay here till they come, I promise.’ There was movement behind him. He’d been joined by Caffy and the handlers. The dog’s tail might have been wagging the animal, it moved so fast. ‘Livvie, we’ve even got a dog looking for you. Can you hear the dog? Listen quietly, now!’
Flo barked obligingly.
Mark turned to her. ‘How about I phone Zac and switch the phone to conference? There’s just a chance she’ll hear him. And he her,’ he added. ‘But the rest of you might drown her out.’
They withdrew soberly to the brightly lit yard. If anything, it was getting even colder.
Ray stepped forward. ‘Guv, do you want Ed and his team to stop Thwaite where he is and bring him over so he can tell us?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Do you really think he would? Some men might, others would clam. Besides which, it’d be interesting to see where he’s heading. And I tell you now, if it’s to someone else’s house, we need to bug it straightaway. I want that conversation on record. Right?’
Caffy and the dog handlers had taken Flo back into the upper reaches of the building: Fran could hear movement, but there was no sign of them. Peering into the stable, she checked again on Mark and Livvie. Mark was holding the phone as close as he could to where they thought Livvie must be. Zac could talk to the child, even if he couldn’t pick up her replies.
‘Any progress?’ Mark mouthed.
‘Only that Wren’s flying in.’
‘Maybe he does a good Father Christmas impression? I can’t think of any other reason – Fran, you didn’t?’ His face fell comically.
‘Didn’t what? Invite him? Had to. It was either that or me being whisked off to HQ and put on the naughty step, by the sound of it. He can deal with the media – come on, he’ll relish that, won’t he? And no jokes about preening. Until Livvie’s out of here I’m this close to hysterical giggles.’
Ray’s face appeared at the door. ‘Thwaite?’ she asked, using Mark’s shoulder to lever her up.
‘Still driving. Not obviously in this direction. But Ed thinks he may have suspected a tail and he’s pulled right back. After all, Thwaite’s tracking device is still transmitting happily so there’s no point in worrying him. And Zac and Bethany are only about ten minutes away now.’
‘Excellent.’ She passed the message on to Mark, still holding the phone to the wall as if his life depended on it. She took his spare hand and gripped it, dotting a kiss on it before she crept out again, straight into Caffy’s arms.
Instead of a polite after-you dance, Caffy grabbed her and hugged her, asking quietly, ‘Are you OK? Silly question, you’ve got to be, haven’t you? Anyway, just to update you: we think we must have come across a priest’s hole. If you think of it, there must have been staging posts for Catholics coming over from the Continent during Elizabeth’s reign, and this place is old enough to have been one of them. Externally I know it looks Elizabethan, but I reckon it might be an earlier building with a facelift – you know how when Georgian became fashionable loads of medieval houses had make-overs.’
Fran didn’t, but nodded encouragement – the last thing she needed just now was a lecture on architecture.
‘While they were installing panelling and so on,’ Caffy continued, gesturing to the upper level, ‘we think they must have constructed a hidden chamber. Trouble is, it’s so well hidden we can’t quite find it ourselves, not without tearing the wainscoting apart. For which we need permission, of course, technically from the owner.’
‘Are you sure that’s the only way in? The child’s just mentioned Father Christmas: is there a handy chimney?’
‘There’s a whacking great fireplace. I’ll get on to it. Or into it. Thanks for letting me do this, Fran. And Mark: he was so desperate to be involved.’
‘I couldn’t manage without either of you,’ Fran said sincerely. ‘Or your hugs.’
‘You’d better have another one, then. And then I’ll locate my reindeer.’
‘Take care: we want two lives safe at the end of this, not one sacrificed in a fruitless search.’ The two embraced.
Wren chose that moment to pop up. Hop up. Whatever. Fran couldn’t read the expression on his face but introduced the two cheerily. ‘My boss, the Chief Constable, Caffy Tyler. Sir, this is my honorary daughter, a historic buildings expert. Like I said, Caffy – be careful. Simon and Gavin – the guys with the search and rescue dog – they’ll have loads of appropriate equipment. Cooperate with them. Anything extra, let me know.’
‘On the other hand,’ Wren objected, ‘if our suspect got the child into the building without such extras, it might be presumed that we can remove the child without them. And without damaging the building, if possible. We don’t want legal repercussions, do we?’
‘Especially as you’ve not yet confirmed that I’m covered by your insurance,’ Caffy rapped back, leaving Fran to take any flak as she clambered back to the upper floor. Pausing at the top, she called down, ‘Assuming that I am, would you care to see the site, Chief Constable?’
‘Chief Superintendent?’ The wretched man made a courteous gesture. She was to go first.
‘Sorry, sir. I could lie and say my job’s on the ground here, but I’ll tell you the truth. My back’s so painful that in other circumstances I’d be on sick leave.’
‘Back? I thought it was your leg that was broken?’
He sounded so offended that she was tempted to burst ironically into the old song about the connections between bones. ‘Secondary injury, sir. So though I’d give my teeth to be up there, I might put others at risk. But Ray Barlow’s already checking it out, sir.’ She pointed as Ray, his hand firmly grasped in Caffy’s, made a final heave and scrambled to elevated safety.
‘She looks very young to be an expert.’
‘Ray’s already dismissed her as the wrong sex to be an expert,’ Fran said cheerfully. She debated pointing out that he’d not followed Ray aloft, but dismissed it as dangerous point-scoring when no one knew how much weight the upper floor would bear. In any case, there was movement behind her. ‘Mark? Problem?’
He waved his phone as if he’d like to commit violence either with it or upon it. ‘The battery’s given out. Ah. Wren.’ Nodding coldly, the two men eyed each other in mutual distaste. ‘As has Zac’s,’ he continued, getting back to more important matters. ‘Can one of your people get in there and keep Livvie posted? You know my hearing’s not up to it.’
Fran wasn’t sure that hers was. Where was that nice girl who’d escorted her down here? Jeanie? Ginny! ‘Where are you, Ginny? Good girl, can you get in there and tell Livvie that the phone’s gone wrong but that her daddy’s getting nearer every second? Keep her talking. It may help Caffy and the others locate the opening. Thanks.’ She smiled and turned to Wren, who still hadn’t managed to speak to Mark. Out of the blue came a memory of an A level text when a woman called Mrs Moore knew she had to get warring factions apart. She tried her hand with Wren first: ‘Sir? This is the other part of the site.’ She led the way into the stable. ‘You can see at first hand the challenges we’re facing. At least we’ve got rid of the horse,’ she added kindly as he slipped on some manure.
When they’d come in, Ginny was calling reassuring words, and turned, ready to pass on what Livvie had said. There was no need, however, to interpret what they all heard – and possibly those outside too. A piercing, terrified scream.
TWENTY-FIVE
Mark didn’t think
he could move so fast. He was up on the upper storey and in the huge fireplace before he knew it, and, elbowing Ray aside, peering down on his hands and knees beside the frantic spaniel and one of its handlers. Of Caffy and the other handler there was no sign.
‘Gavin,’ the young man said, offering his hand as if they were guests at some formal party. ‘There’s no problem. It’s just that a panel gave way before we could warn Livvie and she was surprised, that’s all. Nearly as surprised as we were, to be honest. Looked like solid stone and it just slipped sideways.’
‘Mark. A friend of Livvie’s father.’ They shook hands formally. ‘What are the chances of getting her out?’
‘Look for yourself. No, wait. Clip this round you first. OK with heights, are you?’
Heights were the last thing in the world he was OK with, but he leant down anyway. ‘Livvie? Livvie?’ He’d have liked to wave but that meant releasing one hand gripping the edge of the hearth as if his life depended on it, not Gavin’s safety line. ‘I’m your daddy’s friend Mark. Tennis? We were talking, weren’t we, before you could talk to your daddy.’
‘I wet my knickers.’
‘We’ll find you some dry ones.’ He hoped to goodness Bethany had had the sense to bring a change of clothes for her. He should have thought of it – no way Fran would. Was there? ‘Caffy, how soon can you get her out?’
‘Soon as Gavin lets down the next safety line. And a dear little hard hat specially for her. Just move to one side, Mark, and let us get on with it. But don’t go far: I think she’d like you to be the one to hold her when she pops up like a rabbit out of its hole.’
He did as he was told, but yelled down to the onlookers in the yard – no police radio for him, after all – to give the good news. Back to the hole, to reach for the arms lifted trustingly to him. Yes, the child smelt – knickers worse than wet – but she was alive and trusting him as two of his own grandchildren would never get the chance to do. Cradling her, he put his face down to hers.
‘Everyone back. Flo’s sensed movement!’ Gavin yelled. ‘Get her down now, Mark. Quick. Floor’s collapsing!’
He did as he was told, propelled by Gavin.
Then everything happened at once. A rapid response vehicle erupted into the yard, disgorging Jack and Bethany. Fran hurtled forward, arms outstretched, to hold them back. Zac pushed past her. She gave chase. Zac was up the makeshift steps like a monkey, grabbing Livvie. There was an ominous creak. ‘Everyone off here. Now. Go, go, go!’ Gavin’s voice was loud, authoritative.
Zac and Livvie first. Mark made sure of that. Someone – Gavin? – sat him down hard and slid him on his backside like a kid on a slide. Ray next. Lastly Gavin and his dog. But no sign of the other handler or of Caffy as the ancient wood and plaster that had supported them collapsed into a heap of dust and rubble.
He was on his feet before he knew it. ‘Fran? Fran?’
‘Over here.’ She was, but was on all fours, as if someone had cut her off at the knees. But not a simple trip, or she’d be up by now, wouldn’t she?
Dear God, not a heart attack?
Before he could reach her, before he could even waste breath on a scream, she pushed herself up from her elbows on to her hands, but no further. She let forth a stream of invective he’d not heard her use since they’d become an item. ‘Leg. Other leg. Something’s snapped. Not a bone, it’s just the leg won’t work. Bloody hell,’ she screamed, as he tried to lever her up. ‘No. Leave me be, for God’s sake. Sorry!’
‘I’ll get the paramedics.’
‘No, Livvie needs them more than I do.’
‘But—’
‘Don’t waste time on me. Just leave me here. I’m not going anywhere. Find Caffy and whatshisname. Mark, promise me.’
‘Promise you what?’ he asked, crouching beside her in the chaos, now augmented by the blues and twos of an ambulance. Of course, Fran must have had one on standby and one of the team had reacted to her fall. Whoever it was deserved a medal. ‘Ironic,’ he added, trying not to let his voice shake, but not with laughter, ‘that your forward planning gets you a ride to A and E.’
She didn’t find it funny. ‘No. Livvie first. And Caffy. Promise me you’ll rescue Caffy.’ One hand gripped his painfully.
‘There’s a team on to that now,’ he said reassuringly, moving so she could see. The dog, which had always been vociferous, was now dashing back to the stable, pursued by Gavin.
‘I’m not moving from here till I see them in one piece. Understood?’ she barked at Ray and the paramedics. ‘I said, understood? In any case, you need the ambulance for Livvie. She is OK, isn’t she?’ Her grip on Mark’s hand was painful.
Ray leant over them both. ‘Cold, guv. Dirty. Hungry. But her parents are sorting her out and Ermintrude’s already taking them as a family to A and E. See?’ The car was going back up the lane as fast as it had come down.
‘Ermintrude?’
‘Their name for the smiley FLO,’ Mark explained, with an exaggeratedly toothy grin at Ray, who returned it in spades.
‘Oh, her!’ she snorted. ‘Ray – time to call in the media. Get Wren to earn his corn. Oh, very well.’ She submitted to the paramedics’ insistence – wise kids, that was the way to deal with her! – that she was in the way where she was. She looked with loathing at a wheelchair they produced. One more quite convulsive grab of his hand. ‘I know how much you love her, Mark – go and help.’
What the hell did she mean by that? ‘Of course I love her. She’s the daughter we’ll never have together,’ he said, and felt her fingers relax a little. ‘But just now my priority’s you. I love you,’ he added, as they increasingly did to end every phone call.
‘I love you too.’ Did he detect a swallowed sob? Not Fran, surely. ‘Caffy,’ she said firmly, at last submitting to being carted off.
Where this fresh lot of tears came from he wasn’t sure, but he did as he was told, stumbling up collapsed masonry until Ray grabbed him. ‘You’ll only be in the way. They told me to clear out. Gavin and that bloody dog are in charge. That poor kid. I told Fran girls shouldn’t be builders. Or experts,’ he added with the venom of anxiety.
‘I’ve got to be there, Ray. Same as Zac had to get to his daughter.’
‘And a fat lot of good that did. Brought the whole lot down in one nice, sentimental move.’
‘It’s called being a parent, Ray. Which is why I need to be near Caffy. Her own parents are out of the country.’ No need for complicated explanations about their relationship. ‘So she’ll need me.’ Already his mind was looping frantically round the problems of summoning people he hardly knew to her bedside. Funeral. Dear God.
‘See if you can make contact through the stable wall, then. I daren’t risk more people where it’s collapsed in case more goes. Sorry, Mark. It’s where Gavin is, after all – he’ll maybe have time to keep you briefed but don’t bank on it.’
‘Of course. Sorry. The stable it is.’
Ray pushed him through the cordon, but he stopped on the threshold. What he feared most, he supposed, was silence the far side of the wall. Or screams. Moans, maybe, assuming he’d have heard them. The dog was silent, staring intently at the wall. Gavin was probing gently, a millimetre at a time. He both widened and lengthened his little hole. Mark didn’t ask any questions. Just prayed. The dog and Gavin froze: they must have heard something. Actually, yes, he’d felt movement.
Ray came bustling in: ‘Gavin, there’s been another slip. Lots of bricks and stuff. But it’s good news. The rubble came outwards. We can see them now – Simon reckons he’s broken a rib or two, but he insists he’s fine. Caffy’s trapped by her ankles, but says the boots saved her. She wants to wriggle free but we said not to till you’d taken a look. Do you want to come and supervise?’ As an afterthought, he looked at Mark, and then sharply away, embarrassed.
‘She saved my life,’ Mark told him. ‘Caffy. Saved it at a time when my own daughter had given up on me.’ He’d wanted to do something in return. ‘I need to
be there,’ he pleaded with both of them.
Ray sighed. ‘She didn’t strike me as a woman who’d want heroics, any more than your Fran. Once you know she’s safe, do you want a lift to the hospital to pick up Fran? I reckon Caffy and Simon will need the meat wagon when it gets back – cuts, Mark, cuts! – we all have to share transport now, which means longer waits. Oh, there’s a motorbike paramedic waiting to triage them, but no wheels to A and E. But we’ve got a couple of cars you can – bloody hell, now what?’
The noise penetrated even Mark’s cloth ears. Cheering even from the case-hardened men and women who’d seen practically everything but still believed in justice and law and order. But try as he might, he couldn’t be as excited as they were by the news that Ed Chatfield had arrested Ross Thwaite. Better still, they’d got his accomplice at the house they’d been tailing him to. It was icing on the cake for Wren, now plumping his feathers and standing tall, ready to face TV crews in the lane approaching the site.
‘OK. Let me just talk to Caffy: Fran’ll be worried sick about her,’ he said. ‘Then I’ll take you up on your offer.’
Simon was being hauled clear by Gavin and reunited with Flo. He was obviously in pain, and Gavin’s bear hug looked very tender – clearly they were partners in both senses. Why hadn’t it dawned on him till then? Because they’d been as professional and discreet as he and Fran had been when they’d officially worked together, that’s why.
But Caffy was still stuck. In other circumstances it would have been comical, like someone who’d buried her feet on a beach and was waiting for a wash of sea to set them free.
When she saw him peering down she stuck out a hand like an old-fashioned traffic cop. ‘Don’t even think of coming down. What with Fran’s leg and my foot, we’ve got to have one of us in one piece for this here wedding.’
‘Your ankle – it’s as bad as that?’
‘It’s not as good as I thought it was – there’s no way I can get it out of the boot, and equally no way I can get the boot out of this lot. I’ll just have to be patient and wait for someone to make the place safe and then get digging. It’ll need shoring up there and there, I’d have thought, Gavin?’ she added, over his shoulder. ‘Unless you can risk taking out a bit of the stable wall and letting all this rubble simply respond to gravity? That wouldn’t take nearly so long.’
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