LITMIR.BIZ

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was harder for Laura, though. We’d met on a case -she was one of the detectives, while I was the reporter prying for a story. She was London to her boots, at home in the noise, the movement, the youngest daughter of a City accountant. I had given up a lot to move up north: my social whirl, my contacts, my new life in the city. But Laura had given up everything familiar.

      I sat down next to Bobby. His eyes stayed fixed on the television—SpongeBob SquarePants— and I wondered how the move would affect him. Laura had divorced Geoff, Bobby’s father, not long before we got together and contact had been sporadic at first. As soon as I’d arrived on the scene, things had miraculously improved. But now I had dragged Bobby two hundred miles north, away from the urban clutter of his toddler years and into the open spaces of Lancashire moorland. We had settled in an old stone cottage, with a slate roof and windows like peepholes. At night the cottage seemed to sink into the hillside, the lights from within like cat’s eyes flashing in the dark.

      I looked towards the window. I could see old redbrick mill chimneys in the town below us, the lines of terraces like slash marks in the hills. The town-centre streets were still cobbled in places, the edges worn smooth by the Lancashire rain. I’d forgotten about the rain. It was the reason for the cotton industry, the moist air good for working with cloth, but the cotton had gone now, leaving damp streets, dark and foreboding against slate-grey skies. Between the town and us was a rich green hillside, broken by dry-stone walls and clusters of trees. This was the Lancashire that people didn’t expect, the rolling open spaces. Only the brooding shadow of Pendle Hill at the other end of the valley broke the mood.

      I checked my watch. Bobby had to be at school in half an hour. It was my turn today, Laura had been snatched away by a murder in Blackley, the next town along.

      I felt my fingers drum the table. Was there a story in it? I needed something, because a child was still missing. They usually stayed away for a week, sometimes longer. Connor Crabtree had been gone for six days, and the nationals in town were all on countdown. It made it harder for me. I was just a freelancer, trying to sell stories to newspapers who had their own people at the scene, like I was a dog at the dinner table, waiting for scraps. I did best when the press weren’t there and I could get the early quotes.

      I had sold a few stories though, small articles on the people affected by the abductions, and on the town itself, but they were just padding. Now Laura was at a murder scene and I was at home, doing the school run.

      ‘Are we going to school soon, Jack?’ asked Bobby, his voice quiet, almost a whisper.

      I looked around, the sound bringing me back. I checked my watch. ‘Ten minutes,’ I said.

      There was a pause, and then Bobby asked, ‘How long is ten minutes?’

      I sighed, still not sure how to answer these questions. I’d had no training for this. It had been okay when I was just Mummy’s boyfriend who sometimes stayed over, but this was different. Now we shared the same house, vied for attention from the same woman.

      ‘A Postman Pat story,’ I said. He looked happy at that and turned back to the television.

      As I watched him, I realised that this wasn’t a game any more. Bobby wasn’t just the noise in the house. He had to be nurtured, cared for.

      I was about to stand up, to finish getting ready, when Bobby said, ‘Where’s Mummy?’

      I stopped, thought about that. As always with children, a version of the truth was best. ‘You know she’s a police lady,’ I said, my voice soft.

      Bobby nodded.

      ‘Well, sometimes police ladies have to go and help people. That’s where she is, helping someone.’

      Bobby turned to look at me again. He didn’t look convinced, and already I sensed that his parents’ divorce had toughened him up too much for a boy of four. I found myself smiling, though. I could see so much of Laura in him. From the flickers of dimples to his mop of dark hair, stuck up around his crown, and the twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

      I winked at him and ruffled his hair. This needed to work, I thought to myself, as much for Bobby as anyone else.

      But then I remembered Laura, how she had looked this morning as she threw on her clothes in silhouette, the smell of her warm in my bed, the soft brush of her lips as she’d kissed me goodbye. No, I needed it to work for me, not just for Bobby.

      As I thought about Laura, I realised that I needed to start looking for some more work. I’d built up crime contacts in London, people who would look at the stories I was selling, loose tongues in the police stations and hospitals. I was back at the start again, building up an address book, looking out for the angle the local papers might not report. The abductions would end eventually, but we had a mortgage to pay until then. Laura was at a murder. And where there is a murder, there is always a story.

      I picked up my phone and dialled her number. After a few rings I heard her voice.

      ‘I can’t talk about the case,’ she said quickly.

      I laughed. ‘Maybe I was calling to hear your voice.’

      ‘You heard it this morning.’

      ‘I’m a reporter, Laura. I’ve got to report, and I’ve got a source on the inside.’

      ‘Sorry, Jack, that ended when you saw me naked. It’s a rule of mine.’

      I whistled. ‘Quite a price, but worth every penny.’

      I heard a soft giggle, but when she asked about Bobby I knew that I’d had my final answer on the subject.

      ‘He’s fine,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry. The school is new to all the kids. Bobby will be no different.’

      ‘What are you doing today?’

      ‘I don’t know. I might have a creep around Blackley, see what I can find. Apparently there’s been a murder.’

      ‘Jack!’

      I laughed. ‘If you won’t tell me anything, I’ll just have to find out myself

      ‘How long will you be out?’

      I sensed the worry in her voice. Bobby needed collecting from school.

      ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be back.’

      I sensed her relax. ‘Okay, thanks, Jack,’ she said. There was a pause, and then, ‘I’m sorry about all this.’

      ‘I knew you didn’t do nine-to-five when we met,’ I said. ‘Anyway, it’s good for me. I’ve gone straight to the school run and skipped the dirty nappies.’

      She laughed. ‘I love you, Jack.’

      ‘I’ve always loved you,’ I replied, and then the phone went dead.

      I looked down at Bobby, who had been watching me as I spoke. I nudged him lightly on the arm. ‘Come on, soldier. Let’s get you to school.’

      And the glow I felt when he smiled at me took me by surprise.

      Laura had gone to a quiet corner of the police canteen to answer her phone, but when she ended the call she turned round to see a grinning Pete holding two mugs of coffee. He was keeping her caffeine levels high.

      ‘That was beautiful,’ he said. ‘I feel all warm inside.’

      Laura blushed and grabbed a cup from him. The canteen was small and busy, the tables filled by the extra uniforms, the footsoldiers, drafted in to help with the murder inquiry. The abductions were still the main focus though. There were posters on every wall and on the door, glossy blow-ups of a small business card, a simple image of large hands over a small head, protective, caring. One had been found in the pocket of each abducted child. The press knew about them but had agreed not to report them. In return they got daily updates. Every police officer in Blackley knew about them too, and had been told to keep a lookout. Every time someone was searched, their wallet and pockets were checked. If someone was brought into custody, their property was double-checked.

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