69
Bernie Fowles screwed up his face. ‘She said what?’ Fowles was the Express’s features editor. He was in his fifties and was an old school journalist, known to keep a bottle of Bell’s in the bottom drawer of his desk even though alcohol was banned on the premises. His liking for whisky was written on his face – his cheeks were perpetually flushed and his nose was flecked with broken veins.
Kathy sat down. ‘She says she has messages for the Prime Minister and the Archbishop of Canterbury and Prince William, from Jesus.’
Fowles rubbed his eyes and cursed under his breath. ‘Is she crazy? Or have her parents put her up to it?’
‘She’s a nine-year-old girl, Bernie.’
‘Nine-year-old girls can be manipulated, and manipulative,’ said Bernie. ‘Remember that kid in the States, wrote that bestseller about going to Heaven. He was only four.’
‘I don’t think they’re planning to write a book, Bernie.’
‘Maybe not now, but if we run a piece saying that she spoke to Jesus then all the big publishers are going to be knocking on their door.’ He stood up and began to pace up and down behind his desk. ‘The pictures are good, right?’
‘Brilliant,’ said Kathy. ‘Lots of stuff around the house and a really great shot of the three of them walking through the park. Sitting next to her dad on the swings, that sort of thing. And some very pretty ones with her rabbit.’
‘Kids and cuddly animals, you can’t go wrong with that,’ said Fowles. ‘And she wants to talk to the PM? Face to face?’
‘She said Jesus gave her messages for the PM, the Archbishop and the Prince.’
‘And you don’t know what those messages are?’
Kathy shook her head. ‘She says the messages are personal.’
Fowles sat down again. ‘So you don’t think the parents put her up to it?’
‘Mum and Dad aren’t particularly religious. They go to church sometimes and they prayed when she was missing, but they’re not religious fanatics. If anything, the mum seemed embarrassed at what Bella was saying.’
‘And the girl’s not deluded?’
‘I’m not a psychiatrist, Bernie. She seems okay, but you’ve got to remember what she’s been through. Kidnapped. Raped. She was pretty much dead when they found her.’
Fowles leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his nose. ‘Tell me about that.’
‘I don’t know much, but one of my police contacts told me that when they first went in they thought she was dead. One of the cops felt for a pulse and couldn’t find one. Then a while later a paramedic realised she was breathing.’
‘So was she dead or not?’
‘Cops aren’t medically trained.’
‘They’re trained enough to spot a corpse,’ said Fowles. ‘Is this maybe some sort of out-of-body experience? Lack of oxygen to the brain bringing on hallucinations?’
‘Sure. That’s possible. Anything’s possible.’
Fowles grimaced. ‘See, I’m worried that we give her coverage on this whole Jesus thing and then it turns out it’s down to brain damage. That’d make us look pretty stupid, wouldn’t it?’
‘She’s a bright kid. Very articulate. Doing well at school, her parents said.’ She leaned forward. ‘You know, she’s at the school where the headmistress killed herself. Threw herself off the roof.’
‘Are you serious?’
Kathy nodded. ‘Bella didn’t see it, but a lot of kids were traumatised. The school was closed for a couple of days. Do I mention that in the story?’
‘It’s an angle, isn’t it? Kidnap girl sees teacher suicide.’
‘She didn’t actually see it.’
‘You don’t want to spoil a good story with the facts. Already in shock from abduction, little Bella faced more heartbreak … hell, you don’t need me to write it.’
‘And what about the intro? Do I go with messages from Jesus or abduction girl back with her family?’
Fowles took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, his brow furrowed. It was Sunday and it had been a quiet weekend, news-wise. The story of a child who had come back from the dead would put some energy into what threatened to be a very dull Monday paper. ‘What the hell,’ he said. ‘Who dares, wins. Let’s go with the Jesus angle. Who knows, maybe we can get the PM to drop by to pick up his message.’