The Girl Who Stole the Apple

But however much Maggie searched, no matter what words she searched on, she could find absolutely no report of Ellie’s death.

* * *

It was as if the door and the mobile were connected. Sinead slammed the former behind her and immediately the latter began to ring. It was past midnight. It could be one of only two people — Sam ringing to check she had done what he had asked, or . . .

Two initials, ‘BB,’ flashed blue on the screen. She stared at the phone, lying in the palm of her hand. An unexploded bomb. She wanted to ignore it, but she knew that would only make things worse. She placed it on the table, accepted the call and switched on the loud speaker.

‘Hello, sir!’ she said as perkily as she could manage.

‘What the hell have you been playing at?’

‘Just got in, sir.’

‘You are meant to report in.’

‘Sir.’

‘Regularly.’

She could feel her heart hammering. ‘I was about to ring.’

A pause. She tried breathing slowly, in . . . out.

‘Liar!’

The word seemed to reverberate around the flat. Sinead stood with each hand pressed flat against the table, her head lowered towards the mobile. How much did he know?

‘Why in God’s name did you go to Penrith tonight?’

For a moment Sinead thought she was going to be sick. She fought the sensation and tried to think. It must be her mobile. They had been tracking it. Of course they bloody well had! And if Bowman didn’t know by now that someone had been using Sam’s debit card in Penrith tonight, he soon would. And then he would put two and two together and make four.

‘It was Samuel Foulkes,’ she said, trying to pretend to herself that this was a simple debriefing over the phone. ‘He asked me to drive to Penrith and use a debit card there to withdraw some cash from an ATM. Then I was to throw the card away and return home.’

‘And did you throw it away?’

‘No.’

‘Good.’

There was another pause. Sinead waited. Her heart was still palpitating crazily.

‘Sinead,’ he said, ‘Did Foulkes say anything else? Does he want you to meet up with him?’

‘No. He told me to go home. I had served my purpose.’ That was Sam all over. Use you and then discard you — until he needed you again.

‘So where was he going while you were busy leading us on a wild goose chase to Penrith?’

‘He didn’t say.’

‘You must have some idea.’ Bowman’s voice had gone dangerously quiet.

‘Sam doesn’t give information away.’ Sinead began to speak quickly. She knew she probably sounded flustered to Bowman, as if she was not sure what story to tell him, but she had no way to control it. ‘You know what he’s like,’ she continued. ‘He tells me the minimum. They were holed up for the night but he didn’t say where. Then they were moving on somewhere which was obviously not Penrith.’

Bowman gave a grunt. There was more prolonged silence, during which Sinead could hear his laboured breathing. Eventually he said, ‘How is that little boy of yours?’

She shivered. Bowman didn’t do polite conversation, at least not with her. Probably not even with his wife.

‘He’s with my mother tonight.’