Free Borrowed Light by Graham Hurley Page B

way of getting through. You try all kinds of stuff. Sign’s important, of course
     it is, but I knew I had to build a stronger bridge. In the end I met someone in exactly the same situation and I did what
     they’d done.’
    ‘Which was?’
    ‘Go birdwatching.’
    ‘
Birdwatching?
’
    ‘Yeah. Think about it. It’s a visual thing. They catch the eye. It gets you out. They come in all shapes and sizes. You learn
     about the weather, about migration patterns, about the tides, about feeding habits, about the pecking order, about family
     life in the wild.’ He smiled at her. ‘And that’s just me. J-J loved it. He was a gawky kid. He’d flap around, pretend to be
     a stork, a heron, an egret, whatever. We were the Odd Couple. No question about it.’
    ‘And you were a copper by now?’
    ‘Yeah. I joined to pay the bills. The money from Janna’s parents stretched to an au pair but the rest was down to me. Pretty
     soon I crossed to CID and …’ he shrugged ‘… here I am.’
    ‘Impressive.’
    ‘D/I at fifty-two? I don’t think so.’
    ‘I meant the child. The lad. J-J.’
    ‘Yeah?’
    Faraday sat back. If he was honest with himself, those early days with J-J had been the best. These last few years, by contrast,
     had been difficult. His boy got on with Gabrielle, no problem, but father and son rarely saw eye to eye. Like his mother,
     J-J had made a bit of a name for himself in the world of art photography. He’d also got involved with a series of women who’d
     frequently taken advantage. One of them, a French social worker, had nearly broken his heart. Another, a rich Russian, much
     older, had used him for recreational weekends. On every occasion Faraday had done his best to mark his card, but at thirty-two,
     even with word-perfect signing, J-J didn’t want to listen.
    ‘The boy’s like his father,’ Faraday heard himself murmur. ‘He piles all his money on one card and trusts the roll of the
     dice.’
    ‘And that works?’
    ‘For him? I guess it must do.’
    ‘And for you?’
    Faraday smiled at her, reached for the menu.
    ‘We should eat,’ he said. ‘Before they throw us out.’

Chapter Five
TUESDAY, 10 FEBRUARY 2009.
07.03
    Faraday finally got through to Gabrielle early the next morning.
    ‘Where are you?’ he asked.
    ‘Joe?’
    ‘Where are you?’ he repeated.
    ‘
Dans une chambre d’hôte à Salisbury.’
    A bed and breakfast in Salisbury. She sounded flustered, defensive, and Faraday was aware of a steeliness in his own voice
     that he normally reserved for the interview suite. He couldn’t help it though. He had to know what was happening.
    ‘I’m having my breakfast,
chéri.
What’s the matter?’
    What’s the matter?
Faraday wondered where to start. Ten days without a whisper of contact? A dozen or so calls unanswered? Nearly a fortnight
     without a shred of interest in what might be going on back home? In his own life?
What’s the matter?
    Faraday fought to still the clamour in his head. One thing at a time.
    ‘How’s Leila?’
    ‘Still bad. She’s in hospital here. The Burns Unit. I go to be with her every day.’
    ‘So what are they doing for her?’
    ‘To begin with, they take skin and make …’ she hesitated ‘…
des greffes
?’
    Grafts. He tried to picture the little bundle of bandages he’d last glimpsed in the high-dependency ward at El Arish. Was
     she still critical? Were they still fighting to save her life?
    Gabrielle was doing her best to explain. The doctors in Egypt had done a good job. They’d made her well enough to fly. Just.
     Now, here in Salisbury, they’d taken off all her old dressings and put new grafts on the burns. Some of the burns were infected.
     This morning they’d have to change the bandages again. That would be bad, very bad. They’d take the child to the operating
     theatre and put her under
anesthésie
because of the pain. Gabrielle had bought her new toys yesterday, and some colouring books.
    ‘But how is