Free A Question of Identity by Susan Hill

feeling. I get fed up with being landlocked.’
    ‘Move then. Move up here. I could come as well.’
    ‘Job, Sam.’
    ‘They have police in Norfolk.’
    ‘Yes. Not necessarily ones likely to move over and make room for a new DCS.’
    ‘You don’t know that. How do you know till you ask?’
    ‘True. There’s other stuff, though.’
    ‘Like what?’
    Ahead, a spaniel raced towards a flock of geese, feeding on a stretch of marshy grass, and the geese rose as one, making a racket that gave Simon an excuse not to reply. After the geese had left and they had walked round the spit of land into the next bay, Sam said, ‘I’d leave like a shot.’
    ‘What – home, friends, all that?’
    ‘Yup.’
    ‘Right. Why?’
    ‘Just stuff.’
    ‘Always is.’
    ‘You still on with Rachel?’
    Simon missed a step. Caught up. Did not look at him.
    ‘It’s OK, I won’t say anything. I don’t.’
    ‘Fine. It’s just that – people don’t know.’
    ‘Ha.’ Sam gave him a sharp look. ‘You’d be surprised. Or maybe you wouldn’t.’
    ‘You been listening at keyholes?’
    ‘Shut up.’
    ‘Sorry. No, I know you wouldn’t.’
    ‘Nothing to listen to anyway. Mum doesn’t say anything – only I did just happen to hear her and Judith talking, that’s all. Then I saw you.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘Went to someone’s house and his dad was driving me back. Saw your car.’
    ‘Sam . . .’
    ‘Yeah, I know about it, her husband being ill, all that. Hey, look – hello!’
    A Border terrier had come running up and dropped a ball at Sam’s feet, before standing back and waiting, making little yaps of demand. Sam threw the ball far and fast. ‘Wow, look at that.’ The terrier went across the sand like a greyhound, splashing through pools and retrieving the ball.
    ‘I miss Wookie,’ Sam said. ‘He’d have had a great week.’
    ‘Next time, we bring him then.’
    The dog came back with the ball, dropped it and looked at Sam. ‘He’s laughing,’ Sam said. ‘Look at that.’
    Yes. A laughing dog. A laughing boy, throwing the blue ball away again. In the distance, some people were shouting, waving, trying to get the dog back.
    Stuff, Simon thought. What ‘stuff’? What would make him sure he could leave Lafferton at the click of his fingers, and be happy?
    Stuff.
    There was always stuff.
    They were tucked into a sofa in the Wells Beach Cafe with two mugs of chocolate and a pile of hot buttered toast when Simon had a surge of anxiety about Rachel. He should have told her he was coming away. He should . . .
    But it was Sam’s mobile which rang next. When it did so, his face closed up so tightly it almost snapped. He looked at the screen, then got up quickly. ‘No signal. Shan’t be long.’ He disappeared like a shadow through the door and out of sight.
    Simon finished his hot chocolate. Sam. Stuff. Something was – well, what? He didn’t know. Something. That was all.
    The door opened on three people and one Border terrier, blue ball in its mouth, followed by Sam, who asked for more chocolate, then moved to the opposite sofa and bent over to make a long fuss of the dog. It was some time before he could be parted from it and when he was he scooted out of the door ahead of Simon, managing not to meet his eye. He bought two more drinks and slices of cherry cake. He would read the paper and wait. Hassling Sam would be counterproductive. The call would be from one of his friends – fourteen was the age when innocent phone calls suddenly became intensely private.
    A second later he banged in through the door, face screwed up in panic.
    ‘I just . . . I was just talking to . . .’ He stood trying to get his breath.
    ‘Hold on, calm down –’
    Sam waved at him furiously, took several more quick breaths. ‘I just stopped talking to Jake and it rang again and it was Mum, she tried you but she . . . and Molly . . . Molly . . . she’s gone to hospital, but the roads are so bad down there, Mum said, they might not get