Jenny's mood swung upwards. "When?"

"Some time this evening. Bridgewater via Birmingham He needs to swot up his geography – or perhaps he was just unlucky with his hitches. According to Hammond, Brannigan got the news through the police."

"Not through his father?"

"No… I'm just telling you what Hammond told me. According to Hammond, Corley senior is nursing a pretty big grievance. He won't communicate with the school until he gets a coherent story out of his son. There won't be any marching back of the penitent… at least not yet."

Jenny absently picked up a bottle of surgical spirit and dampened a piece of wool with it. There were blood stains on the table. "Is he all right?"

"Yes, as far as we know. The police didn't say he wasn't."

After Mollie had left the room, Jenny put a call through to Fleming. He was surprised and pleased to hear her voice again so soon.

"You're phoning to tell me you have the night off after all?"

"No. I'm phoning to tell you that Neville Corley is safely home."

"I see. I'm glad." She knew that he spoke out of a depth of feeling "I knew you would be. I couldn't let the night pass without letting you know."

"Why did he leave – do you know that now?"

"No. All I know is he's home."

And David, she thought, will never be home.

For the first time that evening her gentleness broke through the protective crust of aggression.

"John… I mind about you… very deeply."

Afraid of a silence that might grow – or an answer that might be forced and artificial – she put the phone down. He had already experienced the difficulty of contacting her, so didn't try to ring her back. He had a lot to say. Or perhaps not so much – just a word or two that mattered.

Mind. A deceptively mild word. He could think of others.

Nine

THE CORONER'S COURT was held in a room in the local police station. The police station, barely ten years old, had a reception hall that wouldn't have shamed a four-star hotel. The floor was terrazzo-tiled and decorated with potted plants. The enquiry desk, manned by the station sergeant, was of best quality teak.

Robert Breddon thought with some nostalgia of the room in the town hall where all the earlier inquests had been held. This place, the product of the affluent sixties, put him in mmd of a tarted-up pub. The floor was damn slippy too, he always felt he had to pick his way across it with extreme caution. He had been coroner now for over twenty years, but couldn't learn to like the job. An essential part of it was to view the dead bodies, and most of them turned his stomach. There were a lot of drownings along the coast and some of them had been in the sea a long time. Identification – another essential part of the job – wasn't always easy for the relatives. Road accidents were almost worse. He never ceased to be shocked by what a steering-wheel and shattered glass could do to human flesh This case, today, saddened him, as all cases involving children did The Fleming child had been almost unmarked His light had gone out with no visible brutality At the mortuary he had looked asleep As was his practice he kept away from the court until the last possible moment In a small town like Marristone Port everyone knew everyone else and it wasn't easy to draw the demarcation line between friendliness and formality He'd golfed and had drinks with some of the jury, but it would be impossible to whistle up a jury unknown to him Lessing, he believed, was sufficiently professional to act in a professional mariner, and so were the police, but he couldn't vouch for anyone else The courtroom at ten minutes to two was almost full The public tended as a rule to ignore this type of entertainment, but today's inquest was just sufficiently out of the ordinary to pull them in The major role would be played by Brannigan himself Lessing would carry him as best he could, but nerves did strange things to people The blindfold was a complicating factor Fleming's representative, apart from a brief courtesy call, was an unknown quantity, and Fleming he'd heard was out for blood Before the proceedings got under way he got Lessing to identify Fleming for him and then spoke a few words of sympathy to him Fleming inclined his head in acknowledgment He hadn't known what to expect – certainly not a room like this There were high windows from floor to ceiling overlooking a small yard The weather had suddenly become very warm and the too-bright sun was partially screened by long green curtains which cast a green glow over everyone Even the coroner's white thatch of hair looked green like a dye gone drastically wrong He sat up on a dais with his clerk at a table in front of him The jury were to his right and the witness stand to his left The green sunlight washed over all.

It was like a film set He couldn't believe in any of it.

In a moment the cameras would begin to roll and mood music would play He began to have serious doubts about his sanity He couldn't recall David at all He couldn't even conjure up his features Thirza said quietly to him "You're okay " It was a command "It's like something shot on a bloody stage I can't feel David "

She understood his panic "You probably saw the place quite differently in your mind It's as real as anything you imagined "

She was aware that Breddon was looking over at her and trying to assess her potential He would, she hoped, be as professionally objective as he possibly could be To hope that of the jury would be like hoping for the moon As for Lessing – she disliked him on sight He was mentally divesting her, his eyes busy on her breasts The proceedings began with the identity of the deceased Not you, David, Fleming thought as he spoke the few necessary words, the deceased The place of death came next The hold of the Mariana Fleming tried to conjure up the memory of it and saw it quite clearly like a sketch in a book He could neither feel it, nor smell it, nor be appalled by it It was a hold in a ship – meaningless The police evidence was brisk and catalogued events like a railway timetable They arrived They saw They functioned They departed The blindfold was mentioned but not stressed The pathologist followed the police to the witness stand He identified himself as Edward Blane and spoke the oath in a sharp staccato voice He had, he said, carried out the post-mortem The coroner asked him to read out his report The only relevant findings at the post-mortem were a contusion of the left forehead without an associated fracture of the skull. There was no significant bleeding into the skin, which suggests that the contusion occurred at the time of death The cause of death was a fracture dislocation of the second and third cervical vertebrae with compression of the cervical spinal cord."

The coroner looked up from his own copy of the report. "In layman's terms – a broken neck?"

"That is so."

"Go on."

"There was no other evidence of any injury or illness apart from the findings described above."

"Have you anything to add to your report. Dr. Blane?"

"No The child's neck was broken by the fall. Prior to that he was in a good state of health."

The coroner turned to Lessing. "Do you wish to question the witness?"

Lessing shook his head.

"Miss Crayshaw, is there any question you wish to ask on behalf of Mr. Fleming?"

Thirza stood up. "Please – if I may. Dr. Blane, does your phrase 'any other injury' cover sexual assault?"

"Yes."

"Were you requested to examine the child with that in mind?"

"My examination would have included that – without a request being made."

"But the request was made?"

"Yes – by Dr. Preston."

"There was no evidence of this?"

"As I have stated m my report – no."

Thirza turned to the coroner. "I believe Dr. Preston is being called as a witness?"