Tell the Truth, Shame the Devil(113)

They heard a whistle and looked down to see Charlie waving and pointing towards the village. A horde was approaching. Reporters, Bish thought. They didn’t look like day-trippers. They headed down.

In the meadow the girls were picking flowers and Fionn was lying on the grass, the sun in his eyes and a degree of contentment on his face. His chair was close by and Bish helped Charlie get him back in.

“Are you tired?” Charlie asked.

“Sick and tired of you asking me if I’m tired,” Fionn said.

“I’m tired,” Manoshi said.

“You’re always tired, Manoshi,” Bee said. “Even in France you were always tired.”

“They’re not going to let us go any further, are they?” Fionn asked Bish.

“We’ll get you home,” Bish promised.

“Maybe your mum will come here, Fionn,” Lola said.

“She can’t move from the house, Lola!” Charlie said. “How many times does he have to say it?”

Lola started crying.

“Stop blubbering or everyone’s going to think Bee’s dad molested us,” Violette snapped. She put an arm around Lola all the same. “Come on, Lola, don’t be a wimp. You don’t want to end up like Lucy.”

Everyone agreed.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on Lucy,” Bish said. “Some adults don’t deal with extreme circumstances.”

“Extreme circumstances?” Manoshi said. “That’s what she was always like, Chief Inspector Ortley.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Everything was a drama. Like, ‘Lucy, can we have a toilet stop?’ ‘I can’t handle this. You kids are pushing me over the edge!’”

By the laughter, Bish figured Eddie’s impersonation was spot-on—the pitch of Lucy Gilies’s voice, the hands flapping around the head.

“Lucy, do you have a tissue?” Manoshi asked.

“‘What did I do to deserve this? It’s too much!’”

Their laughter became wheezing and snorts. Bish hadn’t heard such unadulterated hilarity for a long time. Eddie had an audience and was on a roll.

“Lucy, do they have Internet coverage at the campsite?” Fionn asked.

“‘Why are you tormenting me with all these questions?’”

“I’m going to wet my pants,” Lola said.

The laughing was so infectious Bish couldn’t help joining in. He should have felt guilty, but then he remembered that Lucy Gilies had known that Gorman had locked Violette up in that cupboard all those days ago and done nothing.

Elliot and Grazier had almost reached them, looking out of place in their suits.

“Don’t join them, Dad,” Bee pleaded. “You’ll look like the Three Stooges of doom.”

But he went to meet the pair. “What happened to keeping the press away?” he asked them.

“The hospital released a statement,” Grazier said. “Most of the press are heading to Newcastle. This lot are locals. The home secretary wants us to take advantage of it. Would love nothing more than the media getting a positive moment with these kids. Especially Violette and Eddie.”

Bish shook his head. “Not after they put his face on the front page.”

“John Conlon’s piece on the blog has gone viral,” Grazier said. “Let’s show the world how unique Eddie is.”

Bish looked back at the kids, who seemed oblivious to anyone but one another.

“John Conlon should be here soon,” Grazier said. “He can take Eddie. Elliot’s going to take Violette. You can take your daughter home in my car. I’ll get the kids back to the hospital in the Salvation Army bus. I think the reverend’s heading this way with a vengeance as well. Apparently the senior citizens Charlie was supposed to pick up this morning are not happy.”

“I’m taking Fionn to see his mother,” Bish said.

“Not your decision to make.”

“G’day, Violette,” Elliot called out in an awful Australian accent. “How y’going?”

Violette laughed, despite herself. Bish had hardly ever seen her teeth, but Elliot received the full gummy grin.

“Tell her to stop,” Bee whispered to Bish. “She’s scaring me.”



The first of the journalists reached them, panting and red-faced. A one-mile walk had wiped them out. When a reporter from the Yorkshire Post asked what they were doing in Malham Cove, the kids exchanged looks.

“My father died here,” Violette finally said, which resulted in a frenzy of questions. Violette ignored the questions. Instead she told the press the story of the watch. Its bloody and beautiful history. Her belief that one day it would be returned to her family.

“How f*cking smart is this kid?” Elliot said, watching a reporter surreptitiously wipe a tear from his eye.

Bish couldn’t help agreeing. All eloquence. No accusations. No bitterness.

“Decent people, the grandparents,” Elliot said. “Bloody decent. Wish I hadn’t got to know them. Bad things always seem to sniff out the most decent people. Yet the arseholes…” He shook his head. “They keep on keeping on.”

When the local police had managed to get the kids inside the visitors’ center, away from the press, a handful of villagers turned up with cake and juice. The Parkers and Bagchis arrived. In separate cars. Bish stood with Katherine and Sadia watching the girls with their fathers. The men would never be friends but it was clear they loved their daughters, so they were stuck with each other.