The Overlooker by Fay Sampson Page A

in bed, right as rain. How about that cup of tea? Or a latte? I don’t know what the hospital canteen runs to.’
    Millie shrugged him off. ‘Don’t patronize me. And I’m not going into any hospital canteen. It would make me puke.’
    â€˜All right, then. City centre? A nice café? Possibly a cream doughnut? And a bit of window shopping?’
    She managed a shaky grin. ‘Now you’re talking.’
    Light drifts of clouds had blown across the sky in the short time they had been inside. The bright afternoon sun had been obscured. The red leaves on the trees between the cars looked darker.
    Nick felt the oppression on his own spirits. He had so looked forward to this. Rediscovering the land of his grandparents, bringing awake the fragmentary memories of childhood visits. A sense of rootedness that he had never quite managed in the rural south-west. That was Suzie’s country. Centuries of her ancestors, from farm labourers to lords of the manor. His own heritage was different. Industrial, non-conformist. Ingrained in his forebears like the grime in the millstone grit of the local houses.
    Instead, he had stumbled upon a different darkness. The yet-unfathomed crime that must be going on in Hugh Street. The venom in that voice on his phone, which made him constantly look over his shoulder. Great-uncle Martin, whom he had so much wanted to meet again. A treasure house of information about the past,
his
past, which he had never thought to ask about until now. And instead, a stroke-ridden old man in a hospital bed with the curtains drawn. There was a very real possibility that he had come too late.
    A little wind was kicking up the leaves on the car park as they hurried to their car. Nick was uneasy. There had been no further messages since that ominous text at lunchtime. But he could not shake off the feeling that they were being watched. Despite Inspector Heap’s reassurance, he felt a conviction that the words BAD MOVE were the result of his visit to the police station.
    It was too late to change that now. He had done what he thought was right. Suzie had backed him. They would have to live with the consequences.
    He only wished he knew what they were.
    With heightened caution he looked all around him as he snapped the car locks open. The large car park was full. Hundreds of friends and relatives hospital visiting. He was about to open the door when his heart constricted. A small blue car was backing out of a bay two rows away.
    â€˜Look!’ he cried, hearing his voice rise an octave. ‘It’s that blue Honda again.’
    Suzie paused on the other side of the car. ‘Are you sure it’s the same one? Did you get the number plate?’
    â€˜No, but it’s not going to be a coincidence. It was following us all the way down to Belldale. It was parked outside the mill, but not in the visitors’ car park where we would have seen it. And I’m almost sure I got a glimpse of it once behind us on the way back.’
    â€˜So? It’s half term. Belldale’s a visitor attraction. We can’t be the only ones who would want to go and see it for perfectly innocent reasons.’
    Millie put her head out from the back seat. ‘What’s up with you two? Are we going to find this café or not?’
    Suzie shot a warning look at Nick. ‘Sorry, love. We’re coming.’
    She slid her legs into the passenger seat. Nick started the ignition and put the car into gear. As he checked over his shoulder before reversing out he saw the blue Honda pause, as though to let Nick out first. He had a glimpse of the driver. Male. Round-faced. Black hair slicked down. There was no one else in the car.
    A burst of anger shot through Nick. He was not going to drive out in front of the Honda and endure that feeling of being followed again. He waited.
    There were several seconds hesitation. Then the Honda drove past. He watched it turn towards the exit gates.
    On a