The Survivors, стр. 70

Chapter 27

Kieran could hear Audrey’s cries growing fainter as he edged down the overgrown path. Mia had tried to stop him.

‘Don’t. Please, Kieran. Seriously. It doesn’t matter who’s down there.’

He had leaned over the safety rail as far as he could. ‘What if they don’t know how deep the tunnels run? Or about the tide?’

Mia had leaned out again as well, squinting into the wind. They could see no-one. She had pushed her hair out of her eyes, exasperated.

‘Oh God, I don’t know. Is it bad if I say I don’t care? Please, don’t go. I know you think what happened to Bronte can’t happen –’

Another flicker of shadow and they both stopped.

‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘I’ll go down halfway and stay on the path. See if I can spot anyone from there.’

Mia had eventually agreed. Kieran had left her and Audrey at the top, looking down over the water. The gust of wind caught Audrey’s wail, mournful and pleading, and Kieran almost stopped walking. He was no longer quite sure why this had seemed like a good idea.

He made himself go to the halfway point, where his view of the caves was completely obscured by a jutting-out rock. Kieran debated, then went a few steps lower. He stopped as the path rounded the curve, revealing the water below, grey-blue and glistening. The shadow had disappeared and the stretch of empty beach lay before him. The birds circled warily overhead.

‘Who’s down here?’ Kieran called, his voice bouncing off the rocks.

The faint echo was swallowed by the sea. No-one replied.

‘I saw you.’ His words repeated, tumbling over themselves before fading away. ‘You’re not supposed to be down here.’

The only response was the roll of the water, leaving a foamy residue as it chased itself in and out. Then the birds collectively seemed to bristle and Kieran felt himself tense a split second before he registered the flash of movement.

A shadow, tight and black in the sun, emerged from the hidden gloom of the South Cave. Someone stepped out, blinking as the darkness gave way to daylight.

Kieran squinted as the figure became clear, then he sighed and pulled out his phone. He sent a text to Mia.

It’s fine. It’s Sue Pendlebury. I’m going down.

‘Kieran.’ Pendlebury raised a hand as she saw him. She looked a little windswept and damp as she headed across the beach, a fine dusting of sand in her hair. She had a computer tablet tucked under her arm.

‘Was that you I heard?’ She looked back at the cave and frowned. ‘The sound’s unusual in there. It seems to get swallowed up somehow.’

‘Yeah, it does.’ Kieran met her near the tideline. ‘It’s the tunnels. Makes it hard to tell where it’s coming from.’ He looked around. ‘Is Renn here?’

‘Just me. Sergeant Renn is with Bronte’s parents.’

‘How are they?’

‘Hopeful we can give them the answer they need,’ Pendlebury said. ‘As am I.’

‘Right.’ Kieran could see that the cuffs of Pendlebury’s trousers were damp and he wondered how far she’d gone into the caves. The routes were strewn with pools, some shallow, some deceptively deep. ‘Is there something you wanted down here? Because the tide’s still pretty high. Some of the cave tunnels are below sea level. If you get lost, you can drown. It’s not safe.’

‘Understood.’ Pendlebury nodded out to sea. ‘It was really them I wanted to look at.’

‘The Survivors?’

‘Yeah.’ She tilted her head as she scrutinised the three figures. Kieran waited, watching the salt water wash against the sculpture.

‘Are they supposed to be happy or sad?’ Pendlebury said suddenly. ‘I mean, is it a celebration of the people who made it, or a memorial to the ones who didn’t?’

‘I don’t know,’ Kieran said. ‘I think it could be either.’

‘Open to interpretation?’ she said as he shrugged. ‘To be honest, I don’t really get art. It’s more my husband’s thing.’

Kieran watched as she took the computer tablet out from under her arm and turned it on. She held it at about shoulder height, her eyes going from screen to sculpture and back again. It was deliberately tilted at such an angle that he couldn’t see what she was looking at. Pendlebury glanced over at him.

‘Your mum really should have told me about your dad’s connection with the Gabby Birch case, you know,’ she said, her gaze now back on the statue. ‘Or you should have. Last person to see the girl before she disappeared? I had to find that out for myself, and when I have to find things out for myself –’ She reached up and swiped the screen. ‘– It makes me wonder why.’

Kieran blinked at the sudden change of topic. ‘Yeah, I know that. And Mum does too. There’s nothing in it, though.’

‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ Pendlebury said, still staring at The Survivors.

Kieran pictured Verity in the kitchen that morning, the milk-stained packing box where Brian had again attempted to help her, and he felt a powerful need to protect them.

‘Listen, if you’re thinking my parents had something to do with Bronte – or Gabby for that matter – you’re wrong.’

‘Am I?’ Pendlebury’s voice was neutral.

‘Yes. I mean, obviously. Look, I know it’s not great that my dad was out on Saturday night – I get that, we all do – but you can’t spend five minutes with him and seriously believe he’d have the presence of mind to steal a laptop and camera.’

‘I didn’t say he did, Kieran.’

‘No, okay. But were you hinting at it? Last night at the meeting when you were talking to my mum?’

Pendlebury clicked the tablet screen off. ‘It sounds like you’ve been thinking about this a bit.’

‘About the consequences of my father’s irreversibly deteriorating mental health? Yeah, surprisingly, I think about it quite a lot.’

‘Fair enough.’ Pendlebury looked at him, her hair catching in