to chuck George into a nearby hedge.
Instead, he jogged back to the Audi, opened the doors and swung the kid down onto the back seat.
‘When I give you the signal, I want you to hold up the robot. Okay?’
George hesitated.
‘Okay? If you don’t do it, I’ll hurt you.’
The boy pressed together his lips and nodded mutely.
Sampson waited until Vernon and Jack emerged from the building. They were carrying their food, but Jack still didn’t seem particularly cheerful. Sampson started the engine and drove along just ahead of them, circling the car park until he reached the spot where Vernon’s rental car was parked. He waited until Vernon was looking at the car, put his foot on the accelerator and drove into the back of the Megane, smashing the rear left light.
He watched as Vernon gave a shout and broke into a run.
Sampson got out of the car just as Vernon arrived. Jack lagged behind.
‘What in hell are you doing, asshole?’ said Vernon incredulously.
Sampson said, ‘I’m sorry. It was an accident.’
‘Jesus,’ Vernon exclaimed, putting his hands on his head. ‘I’m going to have to explain this to the rental company.’
‘Your rear light is smashed,’ Sampson said. ‘Sorry about that.’
He didn’t sound sorry.
Vernon bent down to check it just as Jack arrived. Sampson gestured at George who held Billy the robot up to the window. Jack saw, and gawped at the sight of his cousin and his beloved toy. At that moment, Sampson put his foot on Vernon’s back and pushed. Vernon sprawled on the wet asphalt, his burger and fries scattering before him, and in one swift motion Sampson swung open the door of his car, swept Jack off his feet and placed him inside, slamming the door.
‘What the . . .?’ Vernon tried to get to his feet but Sampson stamped on the hand he was using to push himself up. Vernon cried out and fell back, rolling over and clutching his hand.
Sampson threw himself into his driver’s seat and told George to get out. George didn’t hesitate – he flung open the door and jumped out, shutting Jack in behind him. Jack stared at George, at Sampson, at his Daddy who was by now on his feet, trying to pull open the door, which Sampson had locked. George was crying and shouting, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ Jack hugged Billy while Sampson put his foot on the pedal and screeched away, leaving Vernon gesticulating after him in the rear-view mirror, his face red, his eyes clouded with anger and terror and bewilderment.
‘Who are you?’ Jack asked in a high-pitched terrified voice.
‘My name’s Mr Sampson. I’m a friend of your Mummy’s.’
They sat in the car, outside a petrol station near Doreen’s house, and listened to the CD. Paul found himself getting drowsy just hearing Doreen’s voice again, clear and low, as she conducted the relaxation that had put Kate into her trance.
‘Perhaps we ought to fast-forward this bit, otherwise we might both end up in a trance every time we listen to it, and then you’ll never know what you said,’ he quipped. He knew he sounded half-hearted, though, as if he were forcing himself to make a joke when he didn’t feel at all like it.
‘You’ll have to tell me yourself, then,’ Kate said, clearly too tense to acknowledge the joke. ‘Although I don’t think there’s any chance of that, not the way I’m feeling now. I’m too desperate to know. Shhh, listen, she’s got to the counting backwards bit.’
‘I’m going to count backwards from five, and click my fingers when I get to one. When I click my fingers, you will be back on the day of the fire. Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . and you’re back there. Look around you. What do you see?’
They heard Kate’s voice on the recording, slow but distinct:
‘I’m walking towards the field at the back of the centre . . . it’s so hot. I want to lie down because I feel ill . . . everything’s aching . . . but I don’t want to go to my room because Sarah’s in there, and we’d had a row . . . I can see Stephen through the window in the lab; he’s working today, so I won’t be able to talk to him till later. He’s moving around among the benches, frowning at test tubes. I love to watch him when he can’t see me. I love the way he walks, and the way his back muscles move under the white coat, when he stretches up to open a cupboard . . . I could watch him all day . . . He’s so gorgeous. I’m going to marry him some day . . .’
Kate glanced across at Paul, wincing. ‘Sorry. It’s weird. I’ve got a vague memory of some of the things I said, in a sketchy sort of dreamlike way – but I don’t remember saying that.’
Paul made a dismissive gesture. ‘It’s fine,’ he said tersely. Then, less tersely, he said, ‘No, it’s really fine. Just feels a bit weird to be jealous of my dead twin, that’s all . . . Anyway, shhh, it gets way more interesting in a minute.’
‘But you’re feeling ill?’
‘Yes. I feel terrible. My head’s throbbing. I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m getting a cold, but I’m still pissed off about it. I was lucky last time I was here, because I didn’t get one then. It’s totally unreasonable but I feel like you do when you get ill on holiday, sort of outraged. If I’m ill I won’t be able to enjoy seeing Stephen so much. I decide to go for a little walk, to try and clear my head. If I’m about to be ill it might be my last chance for some fresh air for a few days.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘I’m still looking through the lab window but without Stephen noticing . . . I didn’t want him to catch me spying on him, but then he looks up and sees me . . . I pretend I’m just passing, on my way to the woods. I wave at him, and he waves slowly back, his eyes all wide as he gets distracted from his task. He smiles at me, but suddenly the smile goes, and he snaps his attention away from me and on to the man who’s just walked into the lab.’
‘Who is this man?’
‘I don’t know. He’s in a lab coat too. He’s thin and bony and bald and it’s silly but he’s so creepy-looking that I think, “oh look, it’s Doctor Death”. That’s what he looks like. It must be Stephen’s boss, the director of the centre. Dr Gaunt – that’s what his real name is. Stephen doesn’t like him, he said before that he thinks he’s a cold bastard. I remember he laughed at the pun: a cold bastard. Stephen turns his back on me when the man’s talking to him, so I wander off across the field. I think if I go into the woods it might be a bit cooler.’
‘Then what happens? Is there a fire yet?’
‘A fire? No. No fire. It’s just hot because it’s summer and I think I’ve got a temperature as well . . . I want to lie down.’
‘So what do you do?’
‘I walk into the woods. It isn’t so hot there. The trees are all shady and old, and it’s dark and quiet. I feel like I can breathe better in there. The ground is mossy, and I think: perfect.
