‘Police are very concerned about the whereabouts of sixteen-year-old Jane Reid,’ said the newsreader. ‘She was last seen leaving her school in Wembley on Friday at lunchtime. She was on foot and wearing her school uniform. Anyone who has seen or heard from Jane in the past few days is asked to contact the police immediately.’ The contact details hovered on screen for a few moments beneath a picture of Jane. Then the newsreader moved on to a story about strike action on the London Underground.

39

‘They’re discharging you today,’ said Sarah as she walked into Jameson’s room. ‘Your consultant says your head is healing well and they’ve been able to reduce your pain medication.’

The last few times she’d visited, he had been in bed and in a hospital gown, so it felt good to be dressed and sitting in a chair.

‘Who’s the coffee from?’ asked Sarah, pointing at the Fork cup on the bedside table.

‘My business partner.’

‘I thought you were freelance?’

‘We are. There are two of us.’

‘And is he a researcher too?’

‘In a way, yes, she is.’

Sarah smiled and sat on the end of the bed. ‘You don’t like talking about what you do, do you?’ Her dress had a slit in the front and as she sat down it revealed a small section of thigh.

‘I’ve learned it’s best not to share too much too soon.’

‘Why’s that?’

Jameson smiled.

‘What’s the big secret? It doesn’t fit.’

‘With what?’

‘With your character. You’re so friendly and easy-going. But if that’s just a big con I’d rather know now. Because I have no secrets.’

‘Oh, I don’t buy that.’

‘No, really. What you see is what you get. I’m a middle-class girl from Yorkshire. I’m an only child. My mum was a book-keeper, my dad a company director, and I’m a doctor. I lived my whole life in one county until this recent secondment. I went to church every Sunday. I’m a good girl. That’s it. That’s all there is to know.’

‘You telling me you’re one of those waiting-for-marriage types of good girls?’

Sarah narrowed her eyes and a small smile reached her lips. ‘Not that good a girl,’ she said.

‘Thank the Lord.’

‘And what makes you think that information is in any way useful to you?’

Jameson held up a hand. ‘Sorry, you’re quite right. I was thinking out loud.’

Sarah nodded. ‘So what about you? Where did you grow up?’

‘Berkshire – not far from Ascot. My father was in the forces and my mother is a psychiatrist. I have one younger sister, Claire, who lives in Wembley – if you hang around long enough you’ll probably meet her. She comes in every lunchtime.’

‘I’d like that.’