Free The Overlooker by Fay Sampson Page A

Nick looked down at the slender figure of his fourteen-year-old daughter. Was it really necessary to scare her? As long as they were here, it was unlikely that she would be out of their sight for more than a few minutes. He had so much been looking forward to this excursion. The three of them exploring his family’s history. Tom joining them at the weekend. As the children grew older, these times together would become increasingly rare. He didn’t want anything to spoil it.
    â€˜All the same,’ Suzie was saying. ‘There’s still something about it that doesn’t sound right. An illegal sweatshop I could believe. Goodness knows there’s little enough employment here. Women might work for a fraction of the minimum wage and still think themselves lucky. Especially if they’d been told not to declare it. But a brothel? Did that woman look to you like the sort?’
    â€˜How do I know?’ Nick defended himself. ‘It’s not my scene.’
    â€˜She certainly didn’t look as though she was being coerced into working there. She was distraught when he turned her away.’
    â€˜So maybe it’s not the sort of brothel Inspector Heap thinks it is. With illegal immigrants.’
    â€˜All the same, it doesn’t fit.’
    They stepped out into the sunshine of the car park.
    â€˜What now?’ asked Suzie.
    Nick felt a double jolt of surprise. First at the sunlight. He had felt so chilled at times during that interview that he had forgotten that outside it was a lovely autumn day. Secondly, by Suzie’s implication that they had free time in front of them. He looked at his watch and was startled to find it was still only half past nine. They had arranged to see Uncle Martin in the hospital at two thirty.
    â€˜I hadn’t thought,’ he said. ‘What with coming here this morning and going to the hospital this afternoon, I didn’t plan for anything else.’
    â€˜Since we’re in town, couldn’t we look round the shops?’ Millie said. ‘Or Mum and I could.’
    Nick’s nerves tensed again. He shot a look around the car park. Could whoever had made that phone call really know they had gone to the police? Was it possible that he was watching them even now? There were a couple of other civilians by their cars. Neither of them seemed to be looking their way. The magistrates’ court on the far side looked busier. Police officers came and went. Cold crawled up his spine as a new thought struck him. Could that threat have come from someone inside the ranks of the police? How much more could he find out about the Fewings?
    He tried to fight down his dismay as he remembered writing Thelma’s address on Inspector Heap’s notepad.
    â€˜Let’s stick together,’ he said, trying not to sound too alarmed. ‘I don’t want you two wandering off on your own in a strange town.’
    â€˜Dad!’
    He saw the blaze of indignation in his daughter’s eyes. He heard his own words repeating in his head. It must have sounded incredibly patronising to a fourteen year old who did not know the reason for such exaggerated caution.
    Again the finger of doubt strummed on his conscience. Was this the time to tell Millie about that phone call?
    â€˜Look,’ Suzie put in hastily. ‘There’s that other place. The old woollen mill further down the valley. It’s on our to-do list. It sounds quite a bit different from Thorncliffe Mill. It’s powered by a water wheel and it’s more about wool than cotton.
    â€˜Great!’ Millie groaned. ‘Another museum.’
    â€˜Don’t be like that. You enjoyed the last one,’ Suzie told her crisply. ‘You’re just in a bad mood today.’
    â€˜Oh, so it’s my fault, is it? I get dragged all the way up here for half term, when I could be with my friends. And then I have to go hospital visiting. You know I hate hospitals.’
    â€˜So you