Page 58 of A Summer of Castles

I unfurled my arms and put the cushion to one side. I had cared little about life beyond Coalville, and my interest in the national news was minimal; I had stacked the newspapers in the rack at the hotel reception but rarely read them.

‘But this happened years ago,’ I said. ‘I would have been the same age as the twins.’

‘That doesn’t stop the papers; they refer to it still, like some ghastly horror story.’

Hounded, Joseph had said, and he’d suffered the consequences for years. ‘Do you know the brothers’ surname?’

She nodded. ‘You’re not going to find it helpful. Have you never heard of the Smith Twins? The Tower Block Killers?’ She turned the laptop screen toward me.

I gaped in horror at the headline. ‘They were nine years old, Yvette. You make them sound like gangsters.’

‘Not me, the papers did that. His name is what I’m trying to tell you. It has to be Joseph Smith. You’ll struggle to find him: it’s a hell of common name, I should think, especially in a big city.’

‘He said he had suffered hell because of his brothers’ actions. I just didn’t think to ask him what surname he used.’

Yvette put the laptop to one side. ‘Oh, darling, what will you do? You clearly feel something for him. You slept with him?’

If I had been in a jovial frame of mind, the cushion would have bounced off her head, instead, I clutched it tighter. ‘Uh. That obvious?’

‘My expertise is observing, looking beneath the gloss of an old masterpiece to the message behind it.’

I did manage a small smile. ‘My sun-drenched face?’

‘Your lips are sad, but there is desperation in your eyes. You have to find him.’

‘I know. He said he’d wait for me. But I think I’ll have to spend some time with Mum before I can go back.’

‘Understandable.’ She rubbed her eyes.

I wasn’t ready for bed yet. Other intriguing things had come to light in the last few hours.

‘We found some letters, old ones, in Beryl’s house. They’ve got a foreign stamp on them.’

‘Interesting perhaps. But you should go home. Try and get some sleep.’

I dragged myself up onto two heavy legs. Yvette gave me a swift hug. My head cleared in preparation for driving the short distance home.

‘Oh,’ I said, suddenly remembering a multitude of things. ‘Did you track down David?’

‘Ah. Well, you see, he’s more than gone on holiday; he’s spending time in Italy at a friend’s house. He’s living there for now.’

‘Living?’

‘According to one of his research students – I had more success with the students than staff – he’s taken a lengthy sabbatical. Retired or holidaying, it doesn’t seem to matter what, he’s incommunicado with lots of people.’

I slumped against her shoulder. ‘Those damn castles… do I keep photographing them? I’ve three left.’

‘Far as I’m aware, he has fulfilled all of his existing obligations to the university and continues to mark dissertations and receive his post, so what you’ve sent is probably being forwarded. I say incommunicado, but it might be that he’s being picky.’

And I wasn’t on the right list, obviously. ‘Medici is off the radar too.’

‘Forget about him. Three castles, so close to the finish line, darling. Just bloody well do them and put this all behind you.’

All of this meant Joseph. I wasn’t ready for that finality.

Thirty-Two

York