been by, his brother's a policeman, he'd told him the same thing.'
They exchanged looks. Adam's eyes were large and clear and his head was ducked so that he could see them and they him; the lighting cast a halo over the blond ratty hair that had come loose from its elastic band during the drive. He turned his rueful smile on them. It occurred to Jan that for Adam human beings were ultimately harmless and one could afford to be widely affectionate. Jan himself was his opposite, he realized, as off-putting as the young man was winning, a stranger everywhere, whereas this young man was at home abroad, anywhere.
'He asked us to pop by the woman's house first thing, rather than now, as she's got four young kids,' said Adam.
'Is Dorothy with her?'
'Seems so. He didn't know much except that his cousin, her name's Charlotte, had asked her brother to
go to the police but they came to his house, first, as it happened. They told him to let her know they'd pop round first thing. Here's the address.' He held out the piece of paper and George took it.
'Where is it, then?'
About five miles from the hotel, inland. Not even a village, just a few homes together. A hamlet you call it.'
'She must have walked,' said George. 'She bloody did as well. She walked off.'
'Cheer up,' said Adam, 'we'll have her back with you soon enough. We should head back towards the hotel, then pop round to see this lady, Charlotte. What do you think, Jan?' he asked, putting his right hand behind George's seat as he reversed back.
'Ya, ya,' said Jan, 'good idea. When it's daytime, first thing.'
He rolled up his window and peered through the glass as they passed through the villages and towns that were now barely lit.
He was reviewing a scene in his mind. There was him, standing just outside his bedroom, holding the door ajar, dressed in his pyjamas, shouting at the top of his voice to make himself heard over heavy metal music. It must have been more than four years ago, before he took any of his trips away.
'Turn the music down,' he had been shouting, over and over again, until finally the music just stopped altogether as if the power button had been pressed and his youngest son stepped out of the living room.
'What's your problem?'
'I'm trying to sleep.'
'It's four in the afternoon.'
'I said, I'm trying to sleep. I am dying here!' he'd shouted.
Annemieke had tutted as she went past him and he'd reached up to the bookshelves and grabbed a book and thrown it after her. The bookmark fell out, it was a Polaroid photo taken in the 1970s on holiday in Spain. He'd put it away when he saw what it was.
In it Annemieke was lying on the hotel bed in her bikini with the boys' toy cars and tractors parked all over her body. He'd come in the door, spotted them, driving the little plastic-tyred vehicles up and down her and said, 'Wait, I want to play,' but first he'd dipped the tractor into an iced drink and driven it over her tummy, then clipped it again and driven it up the inside of her leg. They'd shared a heavy and certain look and he'd raised his eyebrows, quickly looking down at his crotch. She'd covered her mouth with her hand so as not to laugh out loud. 'Can't they go and play in the road?' he'd moaned and fallen on the bed atop her, whispering into her ear, 'I'll be an old man when I get the chance to have you in the afternoon.'
22
I T WAS HER HABIT to take a single cup of very good coffee in the morning, with sugar if she needed it, but this morning she had had three. Jan had called her before seven to let her know that the couple was reunited and they were all on their way home. By eight, her mouth was dry from talking. Missy and the brown-haired woman, Beverly, were either side of her. Their husbands were by the outer doors, on cellphones. The other English couple, Harry and Maxine, had gone off to play tennis.
'Bloody silly,' Harry had said before they went, 'when you think that the whole thing could have been so easily prevented.'
'It could
They exchanged looks. Adam's eyes were large and clear and his head was ducked so that he could see them and they him; the lighting cast a halo over the blond ratty hair that had come loose from its elastic band during the drive. He turned his rueful smile on them. It occurred to Jan that for Adam human beings were ultimately harmless and one could afford to be widely affectionate. Jan himself was his opposite, he realized, as off-putting as the young man was winning, a stranger everywhere, whereas this young man was at home abroad, anywhere.
'He asked us to pop by the woman's house first thing, rather than now, as she's got four young kids,' said Adam.
'Is Dorothy with her?'
'Seems so. He didn't know much except that his cousin, her name's Charlotte, had asked her brother to
go to the police but they came to his house, first, as it happened. They told him to let her know they'd pop round first thing. Here's the address.' He held out the piece of paper and George took it.
'Where is it, then?'
About five miles from the hotel, inland. Not even a village, just a few homes together. A hamlet you call it.'
'She must have walked,' said George. 'She bloody did as well. She walked off.'
'Cheer up,' said Adam, 'we'll have her back with you soon enough. We should head back towards the hotel, then pop round to see this lady, Charlotte. What do you think, Jan?' he asked, putting his right hand behind George's seat as he reversed back.
'Ya, ya,' said Jan, 'good idea. When it's daytime, first thing.'
He rolled up his window and peered through the glass as they passed through the villages and towns that were now barely lit.
He was reviewing a scene in his mind. There was him, standing just outside his bedroom, holding the door ajar, dressed in his pyjamas, shouting at the top of his voice to make himself heard over heavy metal music. It must have been more than four years ago, before he took any of his trips away.
'Turn the music down,' he had been shouting, over and over again, until finally the music just stopped altogether as if the power button had been pressed and his youngest son stepped out of the living room.
'What's your problem?'
'I'm trying to sleep.'
'It's four in the afternoon.'
'I said, I'm trying to sleep. I am dying here!' he'd shouted.
Annemieke had tutted as she went past him and he'd reached up to the bookshelves and grabbed a book and thrown it after her. The bookmark fell out, it was a Polaroid photo taken in the 1970s on holiday in Spain. He'd put it away when he saw what it was.
In it Annemieke was lying on the hotel bed in her bikini with the boys' toy cars and tractors parked all over her body. He'd come in the door, spotted them, driving the little plastic-tyred vehicles up and down her and said, 'Wait, I want to play,' but first he'd dipped the tractor into an iced drink and driven it over her tummy, then clipped it again and driven it up the inside of her leg. They'd shared a heavy and certain look and he'd raised his eyebrows, quickly looking down at his crotch. She'd covered her mouth with her hand so as not to laugh out loud. 'Can't they go and play in the road?' he'd moaned and fallen on the bed atop her, whispering into her ear, 'I'll be an old man when I get the chance to have you in the afternoon.'
22
I T WAS HER HABIT to take a single cup of very good coffee in the morning, with sugar if she needed it, but this morning she had had three. Jan had called her before seven to let her know that the couple was reunited and they were all on their way home. By eight, her mouth was dry from talking. Missy and the brown-haired woman, Beverly, were either side of her. Their husbands were by the outer doors, on cellphones. The other English couple, Harry and Maxine, had gone off to play tennis.
'Bloody silly,' Harry had said before they went, 'when you think that the whole thing could have been so easily prevented.'
'It could
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