“But she’s been sending messages to every radio station in the land in the hope you’ll ring up, and here you are ringing in at last. Do you want me to read it?”

“Oh yes, please.”

“It says, ‘Should this message ever reach the ears of my beloved lost daughter, Jean, let her be sure that I have loved her and thought of her every single day of my life.’ That’s what it says, Jean.”

“Is there a signature?” Jean’s voice was broken with emotion.

“It’s a bit smudged with tears, Jean, I can make out an M, can I?”

“It’ll be an N, she was called Nell.”

“Nell, that’s it. ‘All my love, Nell.’”

A sob.

“Thank you.”

“Our pleasure, thanks for your call. Let’s go to line five.”

Penny gave the gesture to Tamy that meant “no more of those, please.”

273

“Hi, Jean, this is Tamy, Penny’s producer, you’re off the air now, thanks for your contribution, Penny appreciated it. Can I remind you that any contribution made today remains in the copyright of Fix Broadcasting Corporation, KKRC and all subsidiaries.”

“Could you send me the note?” asked Jean.

“Um . . . okay.”

272

Clara Redlake was surprised to hear the Penny Lock phone-in claim they had a Dr. Frankburg in the studio, a highly respected therapist from the UK, as Dr. Frankburg was sounding neither Welsh nor male.

271

Edward the Fireman felt his heart lurch, and because it lurched he became convinced it was his own.

He had cried only twice in his life. Once when he burnt Beth alive. And once on the radio. Apart from those two times nothing had run over his cheeks. Clara Redlake had tried to wring tears out of him, many times, but none would come. Not even when the wind blew coldly into them. Perhaps there was something wrong with his eyes. Perhaps he didn’t have tear ducts.

But he’d cried on The Penny Lock Show. He’d cried when Activist 345 had told him how important it was to have a cause in life. How important it was to live by your principles. To live a conscionable life. To make the world a better place.

He’d cried because SOMEONE AGREED WITH HIM.

Everything he did after that moment, every act, every conversation, was carried out as if Activist 345 was watching him, approving him. If he did a good thing, she saw it. If he did a bad thing, she missed it.

He let out a cry and started hobbling toward the radio station. He wondered why she was pretending to be a doctor. Perhaps it was all part of a BIG PLAN.

270

Dan Bronski and John Heron left Departures and got in a taxi.

Beth Davies breathed the air. Perhaps she was sniffing me out. Or perhaps now that she’d left her husband’s airspace, the air smelled different. Three thousand miles away and smelling three thousand times better. She wondered what the air smelled like in Australia. Or the moon.