‘I don’t think a few hours will make any difference.’

‘Is there anything we’re missing? Is there something we could do? Some surgeon, somewhere in the world, who could save Bruno?’ he asked.

‘You know, darling, we’re hoping for a miracle that isn’t going to happen. If we lose the transplant window, no one gets helped by his death.’

‘You’re right.’ He sipped some more coffee in silence.

‘What I’m going to suggest, my love, is that because you’ve been thinking of nothing else throughout the night, you need some time away to think clearly. I’ve found so often in life that when we’re in a difficult place, the right decision finds us. Make time to go for a walk on your own, and I’ll do the same. Then let’s speak around lunchtime and see where we’re at.’

They hugged, with tears rolling down their cheeks.

As they left the cafe, Roy noticed a text had come in from Glenn Branson.

Bell me urgently, if you can, boss.

He hit the DI’s speed-dial button.

‘What’s up, Glenn, what’s urgent?’

‘I thought you would want to know right away. There’s been a credible sighting of Eden Paternoster.’

60

Wednesday 4 September

Roy Grace, curious about the reported sighting of Eden Paternoster, and highly dubious, was tempted to call back Glenn Branson as he drove to the Sussex Police HQ. But he wanted to use the twenty minutes or so the journey would take to keep his focus on Bruno.

His mind kept admonishing him shoutily. Miracles happen – wait for one. Bruno will suddenly start speaking. He’ll defy those bloody doctors. Another voice in his head was telling him not to be stupid, that he needed to start grieving.

Somehow, when he arrived back at work, he managed to avoid bumping into anyone, entered the sanctuary of his office and shut the door. As soon as he sat at his desk, he called Glenn Branson.

A couple of minutes later, the DI was seated opposite him, in his favoured position with the chair the wrong way round. ‘How is he?’ he asked.

‘I’ll come to it, but I want to hear first about this credible sighting of Eden Paternoster.’

‘You don’t need to be here, Roy – you look terrible – I mean it in the nicest way.’

Grace nodded. ‘I need to be, my mind is all over the place, I need something else to focus on, to keep sane, OK?’

Branson smiled. ‘Understood,’ he said gently. ‘I’ve actually got quite a bit more to report. But yeah, this sighting: a prison officer, who works at Parkhurst in the Isle of Wight, saw the article and Eden Paternoster’s photo in the West Sussex Gazette. She is positive she saw Eden Paternoster on the Isle of Wight Hovercraft ferry on the evening of Sunday September the first.’

Grace frowned. ‘The same day Eden’s husband claimed he’d dropped her at the Tesco store and she’d vanished? Which Aiden Gilbert has discredited?’

‘The same day, boss, yes. But what makes this sighting particularly interesting is that Eden Paternoster has Isle of Wight family connections – her grandfather worked in a hotel in Seaview and she has a number of cousins there.’