The Collector by Fiona Cummins

Author:Fiona Cummins [Cummins, Fiona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 2017-12-18T00:00:00+00:00

34

4.34 p.m.

The car journey took them back along the coast. Past the grand waterside houses of Thorpe Bay and its beach huts lined up like colourful building blocks, along Southend seafront with its wooden pier that stretched for miles into empty sky. Saul, distracted, kept his eyes on the horizon. For the first time in ages, he wanted to go home.

‘Will you drop me at the flat?’

Mr Silver did not remove his eyes from the road.

‘Is there something you need, Saul?’

Saul didn’t answer. He didn’t have to explain himself.

Mr Silver waited for a moment. ‘As you wish.’

There was a risk the police might be waiting for him, but Saul only planned to stay long enough to pick up a couple of things and then he’d be gone. Away from Mr Silver, his uncomfortable questions, his strange little secrets. Away from Mr Darenth. Away from his mother, and from Cassidy and her stupid, stupid family.

Along the coast road, in the shadow of darkening skies, the boy in the wheelchair and the woman were making their way back, hurrying along the length of Marine Parade, towards Eastern Esplanade. Mr Silver saw them before Saul did.

Without speaking, Mr Silver pulled sharply across the pedestrianized zone, the hazard lights on his car pulsing in time with his heart.

‘It’s that boy again.’ He tried to hide the need in his voice. ‘Go and speak to him. Find out where’s he going.’ A beat, filled with impatience. ‘Go on.’

Saul slid, squirming, down the passenger seat. ‘I can’t just go up to him.’

Mr Silver opened his wallet, withdrew a bundle of notes and held them up in front of Saul.

‘You’ll think of something. Tell him the shop’s getting puppies.’ A sudden, wolfish grin. ‘He loves puppies.’

It was darker now, and there was a kind of rawness in the air that scraped at exposed skin. Saul dug his hands into his pockets.

Amy Foyle had stopped pushing the wheelchair to check her phone. Saul sauntered up. Her eyes met his, but he did not know her name and all he would later remember was her guilty, harried look.

‘Hey,’ said Saul, and he knocked back his red hood, so the boy could see his white-blond hair.

‘You’re from the pet shop,’ he said. ‘How’s that naughty birdie?’

‘It said a bad word to a customer. She dropped her fish food all over the floor and stormed out. Made a terrible mess.’

The boy – Jakey, his name was – giggled. ‘I want to visit him again.’

‘We don’t know if it’s a him. Could be a her.’

‘What?’

‘Mynah birds are monomorphic, which means both sexes look the same. We’ll only know it’s a girl if it lays an egg.’

The boy’s face lit up like a candle.

‘I’ll ask my daddy if we can come in at the weekend.’

‘We might be getting some puppies soon,’ said Saul, inspecting the dirt beneath his nails.

The boy’s face clouded briefly, as if someone had blown out the flame, but he rallied. Saul was reminded of those birthday candles that magically relit themselves.

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