I looked at the wall, where photos of Freda Davey had hung the day before. ‘None of the Black Gale investigators so much as even spoke to Freda’s oncologist. It was a line of enquiry that got missed entirely in the middle of a frantic search for nine people, and also because they already had an explanation for her delaying – she’d planned to take a holiday. And, ultimately, as bad as the news was for Freda, getting cancer again wouldn’t have seemed like a starting point for a whole village disappearing. So, her delaying her treatment made sense, whether for a holiday – as she’d told a few people – or because she was scared, as Rina suspected, and after that the search became about everything except her illness –’

‘When, in fact, her illness was where it all began.’

I nodded, glancing at the Dictaphone again.

I’d heard the next part once already, so I knew exactly what was still to come, including the final truth.

It was just that a part of me didn’t want to have to listen to it again.

I pushed Play.

‘Like I told you before,’ Freda said, ‘in my teens, into my mid twenties, the idea that Beatrix might not be able to find me, it played on my mind so much. But then I had Ian, and Rina three years later, and that feeling … I guess it sort of went away for a while.’ She stopped, sounding unconvinced at her choice of words. ‘Well, not away. It never went away. Not really. I suppose what I mean is I could pretend to forget it all, because I had a son and a daughter who I didn’t ever have to let go of, who I loved without apology, without having to justify or rationalize it. But then, in the middle of August, when I started to suspect the cancer had come back, I realized something: I’d never buried her memory at all. I didn’t bury her memory when she was born, I didn’t do it after I saw her face in the papers. Ever since she vanished, it’s been a crushing weight I can’t shift.’

Silence: sombre, bleak.

‘I just want to know what happened to her,’ Freda said.

‘I know,’ Patrick responded softly. ‘I promise I’m doing my best. I’ve seen a copy of the original police report. I’ve spoken to Robert Zaid, to some of the others she was on that Politics course with. I’ve got another call lined up for tomorrow afternoon. I’m going to use a payphone – I’ve bought one of those calling cards – so there’s no record of it at home. I told Fran I’m meeting a client.’

‘I’m so sorry I’m asking you to sneak around like this.’