One hundred and forty-three, one hundred and forty-four, one hundred and forty
The hundred and forty-fifth sleeper. He stopped. Dropped the hammer and stood, feet straddling the sleeper, facing at right angles away from the line, in the direction of the arrow on the map. Immediately he could see that someone had been here before. Someone had walked back and forward in a straight line between this sleeper and the foot of the bank -under tender new ivy shoots the vegetation was dead and trampled. Just do it, don't stop to think. He went to the bank and began tugging at the woodbine, tearing open a hole large enough to get into. Then he ducked inside.
It smelt of stinging nettles and dandelion, of fox dirt and oil, and it took a moment for his eyes to get used to the light. He stopped, wiping the sweat from his face, getting his bearings, and now he found he could straighten up in here. Someone had cleared a dome shape in the hanging undergrowth in front of him was the bank, behind him curtains of ivy and bramble. And down here? Down on the ground? He crouched and found dried stems and root matter. He tore at it, tugging the meshwork away.
In spite of what he'd expected, in spite of the fact that he was prepared, when he saw what was under the roots his heart began to race. He didn't really believe what he was seeing. A small circle of ground, about two foot by three, had been disturbed within the year. Few plants had taken root there.
He sat down next to the circle, next to the turfed-over clumps of brown Eocene London clay, rested his hands on his ankles, and began to shake.
"You can see the balloon at Vauxhall." Ayo Adeyami went straight into the family room at the back of the house and knelt on Benedicte's sofa, opening the window and leaning out. "And look! The London Eye."
"I know." In the kitchen Benedicte pulled off her shoes and gave Smurf a bowl of water. They'd been for dinner at Pizza Express and afterwards had agreed to leave the men, Hal and Ayo's husband, Darren, in the pub 'just for one pint'. The two women had come back here with Josh and Smurf. Ayo was going to water Benedicte's plants while they were in Cornwall and she still hadn't seen the house.
She was enthralled. "It's brilliant! Absolutely brilliant."
"I know."
"No need to be smug."
"I know. Hey!" From the kitchen she leaned across the low units and spoke to Josh, who had already flung himself on the floor in the family room and was watching The Simpsons, his chin in his hands. "Hey, brat, keep the volume down, OK. Come on we've got guests."
Josh grumbled about it. But he turned the sound down and dropped the control.
"Good." Benedicte got a bottle of Freixenet out of the fridge. "That fireplace," she said to Ayo, putting the bottle between her thighs and trying to prise out the cork. "That fireplace is Travatino limestone."
"Is it crap." Ayo looked over her shoulder and grinned. "It's cast concrete. Darren put one in our place."
"Yeah…" She scrunched up her face and wrestled with the champagne cork. "But most people'd believe me."
"Most people are soft." Ayo leaned further out of the window, smiling in the soft evening air. She was seven months pregnant and she carried it welclass="underline" from behind she looked as slender as a teenager with her long limbs. Like a carving in a print dress, thought Benedicte, she would never get fat.
"There's something wrong in those towers," Ayo said. She was craning her neck to the left, to Arkaig Tower and Herne Hill Tower, the doomy twins at the bottom of the park. "They're evil."
"I know great guardians of Brixton." The cork came away with a dull pop and she began to fill two crystal flutes. " Champagne?"
"Oh, Ben," Ayo pulled the window closed and turned to settle on the sofa, "I'm sure even thinking about champagne is bad for the baby."
"Come on. I took acid and Es when I was pregnant with Josh."
"See? See? I rest my case."
"It can't be as bad as all the crap at the hospital."
"Yeah I got a lecture about it. No chemotherapy, no X-rays, no ribavirin." She stretched her feet out on the floor, dropping her chin on her chest. "God, I can't remember what my feet look like. Have you seen the size of these knockers? Darren thinks he's died and gone to heaven. Ah…" She took the drink from Benedicte and rested the glass on her bump, slyly watching Josh from half-closed eyes. "Ben?" she said innocently.
"Mmm?"
"You know with Josh?"
"Yeah?"
"Did he press on your bladder? Make you wee twenty times a night?"
"Mu-um." Josh half sat up. "Can you two stop}' He held his hand up and snapped it open and closed. "Yak yak yak yak yak."
Ayo nudged him with her foot. "Smarty-pants."
Josh giggled and rolled on to his back, play-kicking at her. "Yak yak yakety-yak."
"Help!" She struggled to get up, spilling champagne. "Help me, Ben, your sprog is attacking me."
"Hyperactive child. He should probably be on medication." Benedicte helped Ayo to her feet, out of the way of Josh. "Come and let me show my house off to you come and see the room that's going to save my life."
The two women went up the stairs, clutching their champagne, giggling, Josh yelling insults after them. Smurf lolloped along behind, and this time Ben didn't send her back downstairs. "Be-en," Ayo hissed, the moment they got out of Josh's earshot. "Ben, what do you think about this business? You know, the little boy in the park."
"Oh God." Ben switched on the light on the landing. "Screwy. I'm sort of glad we're traipsing out to shagging Cornwall." She'd been following it on TV.
Two members of SERPASU, the South East Regional Police Air Support Unit, had resigned over the incident and the BBC had devoted five minutes to it at the head of the news. The worst thing, for Ben, was a piece of video taken from a helicopter. A news crew, filming the search in the park the day after the kidnap, had analysed the footage and discovered what they claimed was Rory Peach. A tiny patch of light curled in a tree. They broadcast it with a circle imposed over the top so the viewer knew where to look. Benedicte had found it disgusting. "I don't want to think about it, to be honest. I've thought about it enough." She pushed her hair behind her ear and smiled at Ayo. "Come on, let's change the subject, OK? Now," she paused with her hand on the door and made a solemn face, 'this is the room that is going to save my life." She opened the door. "Da-da!"
Ayo peered inside. The bedroom was no more than a box painted cream with blue curtains and a scalloped blue light shade in the centre of the ceiling. It smelt of paint and new carpets. "Ummm," she smiled, 'nice."
"I know it's not nice exactly." Benedicte made a face and poked Ayo in the arm. "But it's the first time I've had somewhere I can go for some peace and quiet. Now," she closed the door and opened the next one, putting her hand inside the door to turn on the light, 'the bathroom."
They both peered inside. Josh's trainers, which were covered in mud from the woods, had been hosed off and were upside down on the edge of the bath. But there was something else out of kilter in here. Benedicte stepped inside and saw that the floor, the little white pedestal mat under the toilet, and even a corner of the bath mat draped over the bath edge, were wet. She could smell it instantly they'd been urinated on. "Jesus," she muttered, switching off the light and slamming the door. "Wait there, Ayo." She hurried down the stairs. "Josh! josh! '