“Astrid Copely.”
She made a pained sound, drowned out by the whack of the boy’s punching. His grunts were sobs now.
“One of the chaperones told everyone who I was,” Violette said. “Who Mummy was—and it’s going to be in the papers and everyone’s going to know. Everyone.” She looked back at the kid, anger and then anguish in her eyes.
“Tell the boy to go back to the campsite,” Jamal said. “I’ll pack us some stuff and we’ll head down south.”
She shook her head. “I need to go because they’ll come here first. Don’t worry—we’ve got money.” She patted the waist of her jeans at what he presumed was a money belt. She’d started to sweat and was trembling again and it broke him to see someone as tough as she was look so vulnerable. He grabbed a jug of water from the fridge and poured a glass for her, then soaked a towel and cooled down her face.
“You’re not making sense, Violette,” he murmured. “You’re not going anywhere. We’ll ring Nasrene and Christophe and work out what to do.”
But she was shaking her head. “They had photos of you at the gate, Jimmy. Just say they arrest you? They’ll put you away again and Mummy will never forgive me.”
“Why would Noor need to forgive you?” Jamal asked. “You’re everything to her.”
“She’ll hate me for this.”
“It was me who ruined everything!” the boy shouted. “Not you, Violette. I found you, and if I hadn’t you’d be on that hike. Safe.”
The air began to smother Jamal. He felt the bile rising in his throat. What had this kid dragged Violette into?
“I heard Henna Nasrene speaking to Papy,” Violette said. “She asked him what they should give me for my eighteenth birthday and he said…he said, ‘I want to take her back into the past, to a time when Etienne was alive.’ And he was crying, Jimmy, and I’ve never heard my grandfather cry before.”
Jamal swallowed hard. He felt a twist in his gut. His brother-in-law had come into their lives when Jamal was five years old. Easygoing Etienne LeBrac, the complete opposite to Noor in so many ways. Even after all these years, Jamal still couldn’t believe he was dead. And he’d never accept that Etienne had taken his own life, leaving Violette alone up on that cove at Malham.
“But why come here, Violette? Without telling anyone?”
“To do part of what Papy Christophe wants. But not for me, though.”
Right then the boy was finally toppled by the bag. He let out a laugh and Jamal turned to see him on his arse, sending a toothy grin towards Violette, his gangster sunglasses flying across the floor. Jamal couldn’t help staring. Couldn’t trust what he was seeing. He walked over, needing a good look at him, and Violette was there, clutching Jamal’s hand.
“Isn’t he beautiful, Jimmy?” she said. “Isn’t he the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”
Jamal stood before the kid and removed the beanie from the boy’s head. And like a punch in the gut, the truth sank in.
“Oh Violette. What have you done?”
10
Bish decided to make the most of the trip and drove out to the hospital at Boulogne-sur-Mer. He told himself it was in order to give an update to the parents, but he knew it was more than that. Lola Barrett-Parker and Manoshi Bagchi had sat close to Violette and Eddie for most of the trip. Bish hoped they might have heard something that could shed light on where the two would be heading.
On the front lawn of the hospital, waiting for a story, was a cross section of the world’s media. Sky. CNN. BFMTV. There were no kids left out at the campsite, so the only possibility for a sound bite was the families of the injured. One or two journalists recognized Bish from the day of the bombing, and before he could make it to the entrance, microphones were thrust at his face and cameras blocked his path.
He succeeded in ignoring them, but inside was a different set of problems. A strong police presence stopped him in the foyer. According to the hostile receptionist, who at least spoke English, the list of people allowed up to the third floor didn’t include media or troublemakers. Bish tried anyway. Explained that he was the father of one of the British kids and he just wanted to check on those injured. He thought it best not to mention that he was a police inspector because he had no badge to prove it. He also suspected that unauthorized British law enforcement came under the category of troublemaker. The receptionist dismissed him.