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his warm and loving nature. She’d discount his charm, of course, and probably fall in love with his father and . . . would there be enough left, if he failed in his career, to keep them married?
    Marriage? What was she thinking of? Chris was nineteen years old, living off his father and the kudos of a one-shot video, while Hermia came from old moneyed stock. Bea could imagine what her family would say if she invited Chris home as a prospective husband. Besides, didn’t she have some pea-brained aristocrat in tow? Someone with a title?
    Bea shook her head to clear it. She was imagining things.
    Hermia ran her hands up through her hair, fluffing it out into a softer style. She picked up her jacket. ‘Well, Harry; I can see you’re hardly dressed for our planned run in the country, so I’ll be on my way.’
    â€˜What? But—’
    â€˜See you around.’ She turned to Chris. ‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?’
    â€˜I came with Mrs Abbot.’ He stood back to let her pass down the stairs ahead of him. ‘I don’t have a car of my own yet.’ Was he setting out his own stall?
    Hermia opened the door to let them out into the mews. ‘How can I help you look for Tomi? I saw your film. I was impressed. She’s a lovely girl.’
    Hermia had used the present tense. Bea noted it. So did Chris. He said, ‘I’m so afraid something’s happened to her. I tried the hospitals, and my father’s tried the police. Nobody’s reported a body that could be hers.’
    â€˜Your father’s Cecil Cambridge, the computer guru, isn’t he? My father knows him. Have you got any PR shots of Tomi that we can use to jog people’s memory?’
    â€˜Back at home, yes.’
    â€˜I’ll give you a lift, shall I?’
    â€˜But – Mrs Abbot . . . ?’
    â€˜I’ll take myself off, then,’ said Bea. ‘Let me know how you get on.’
    â€˜Yes. Thank you.’
    Eye drawn to eye, like a sleep walker Chris got into Hermia’s expensive car and was driven away. Kidnapping? Well, no. They both knew what they were doing. Probably.
    Bea got into her own car and flicked on her mobile.
    â€˜CJ? Can you spare a minute? No, nothing earth-shattering – well, it is in a way. You know a girl called Hermia? Or her father?’
    â€˜Both. Yes.’
    â€˜She’s just annexed Chris. Popped him into her car and driven off. With intent.’
    â€˜What do you mean, intent ?’
    â€˜Well, on his side, I should say he recognizes an intelligence equal to his own, an earth-mother figure, and is eager to have sex with an adult.’
    â€˜What? You’re not serious. She wouldn’t. I’ve known her since she was a baby and . . . What on earth would she see in him?’
    â€˜Integrity? She likes the way he’s pursuing his quest for Tomi. Also, perhaps, she sees that furthering his work could give a purpose to her life. She won’t act hastily. However attracted she may be, she’ll turn him inside out, test his potential, and decide whether or not he’s worth more than a quick fling.’
    â€˜But she’s supposed to be marrying—’
    â€˜Mmhm. And Chris is only nineteen.’
    â€˜He’s twenty next week. But still. It’s preposterous. Couldn’t you have stopped it?’
    â€˜How? When did you last stop Chris doing something he wanted to do?’
    A sigh. ‘I’ve got news. Thames Valley Police have found a body. It might be Tomi and it might not. What did you say she was dressed in?’
    â€˜I told you. Green jacket and jumper, jeans, boots. Big green handbag. Where is she?’
    â€˜Out near the M25, in some bushes on a country road. She’s been there some time.’
    â€˜A natural death?’
    â€˜Suspicious circumstances, I’m afraid. Someone phoned in to say they’d been walking their dog and found it, but