“Mr. Thorn, it’s Dr. Frankburg here.”

“My God, what’s the matter with your voice?”

“I’ve strained it.”

“You want to use your diaphragm more.”

“It’s more a nervous thing.”

“What do you want?”

Samuel was sitting in front of the TV screen looking at a freeze-frame of Kirsten. The people at Phoenix TV had tried to make him leave but Sam asked them for a few more minutes. They’d said sure and looked at the clock. It was getting kind of late. Seeing him hang around was unnerving them and the casting woman had called the producer and told him she was finding Sam a bit creepy. Sam had deduced that the footage he was watching was from Kirsten’s last day on this earth.

“There’s a radio show currently airing in New York where someone is claiming to be me, Dr. Frankburg.”

“Right,” said Sam.

“And I was wondering if you would come around to my office and denounce the fake Dr. Frankburg on air.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because she’s a fake.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Listen to me. I’m struggling as it is. Besides, I’ve got a big stack of You Too Can Fly fans in America, they’ll expect something a bit more, I don’t know, Welsh.”

“Won’t it be one fake denouncing another?”

“Well, yes, it does seem that way, but . . .”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh come on.”

“Do you know the story of Jonah and the whale?”

“What? Yes.”

“I’m not a lucky man, Mr. Frankburg.”

“It’s Dr. Frank—”

“I don’t think you want me on your side.”

“I’m not asking for much, it’s just this Ali Bronski woman, she’s—”

“Who?”

“Ali Bronski. She’s done this before, taken my fucking glory—sorry to swear.”

“No, that’s fine.”

“Taken my fucking glory for herself. Radio. I’ve never been on the bloody radio. The bloody cow. Well, it’s not just that, it’s a matter of principle. She could be doing untold damage. I’ve got a market to protect.”

Sam had rewound.

Voice: “Kirsten, just quickly, Ali Bronski rang, she’s in London tonight and wants you to ring her to meet if you get the chance.” Kirsten: “Right, thanks.”

“Where are you?” asked Sam.

Frankburg croaked out a few directions.

212

Emma Heron sat in a cafe at the airport and waited.

Though her eyes were green they were also bloodshot. She’d been in the airport all day. Her husband, John, had passed within a hundred meters of her when he arrived but she’d been in Foot Boutique buying shoes. They didn’t have her size but she bought them anyway. What was a little pinching in the grand scheme of things?

211

Cody Jameson hared up the M40. She listened to the inquest tapes again. She found a part where Ronald Henderson talked about his daughter, Kirsten. He spoke of her movingly, emotionally, how her death had been the single most devastating event in his life and that was up against some stiff competition. It brought tears to Cody’s eyes.