Authors: Martin Edwards
‘We have to find her! Please, I can’t do it all by myself, and there’s no time to lose.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ Quin said. ‘We need to know what we’re dealing with here. When did you realise Terri was missing?’
‘First thing this morning. Oh, I know it’s still early. About an hour ago, I mean. I’d finally managed to get some sleep after spending most of yesterday rushing back and to from the bathroom. My stomach was empty, and I felt like shit.’
Quin nodded, as if to say
And you look like it too
. ‘I dragged myself out of bed and looked in the other room. Terri had said she’d spend the night there, rather than disturb me after getting back late from the party. Of course, she didn’t fancy catching whatever had knocked me for six.’
‘She wasn’t in the room?’
‘No. I assumed she’d stayed over with Mum instead. I rang her mobile, but there was no answer. So I called Mum and she said Terri saw her back to her cottage last night, then came back on her own to be with me. But … she didn’t.’
He buried his head in his hands. Jeffrey put an arm round him.
‘She’ll be fine, there’s sure to be a simple explanation.’
‘What about her car?’ Quin asked.
‘Still parked outside our front door.’
‘You’re sure she’s not somewhere in Fell View?’
‘Absolutely certain. I’ve looked everywhere, including the coal cellar, just in case she was so pissed she fell down the cellar steps. The garden as well. There’s not a trace of her.’
‘She can’t have gone far.’
Robin rubbed his jacket sleeve across his cheeks. Tears glistened in the blue eyes. He was a professional musician, accustomed to putting on an act, but Daniel was sure there was nothing feigned about his despair. Which didn’t mean it was justified.
‘Last night was Hallowe’en. You know what happens to young women in Ravenbank on Hallowe’en.’
‘Don’t talk like that,’ Quin muttered. ‘There must be some other explanation.’
‘I’ve met Terri before,’ Daniel said. ‘She is a close friend of someone I know, a police inspector.’
Robin stared at him. ‘Hannah Scarlett? Of course! Terri mentioned you to me. You and Hannah … well, it slipped my mind. I’m not thinking straight.’
‘Have you met Hannah?’
‘No, but Terri has … talked about her. She was going to introduce us.’
‘No need for the past tense,’ Daniel said. ‘One thing I do know about Terri is that she’s a joker. This might all be some sort of misguided … well, prank.’
‘No! She wouldn’t do that to me. Not after Hallowe’en, not in Ravenbank of all places.’ Robin’s voice was hoarse. ‘Two women have been killed here, it’s no laughing matter.’
‘Have you spoken to the Knights?’ Jeffrey asked. ‘Could she have gone back to Ravenbank Hall?’
‘For fuck’s sake, why would she do that?’
Jeffrey smoothed the kimono over his knees. ‘We have to consider all the possibilities.’
‘We need to mount a search party. Quin’s right, she can’t be far away. Perhaps she’s slipped, fractured an ankle or something, poor thing.’
‘On her way back from your mother’s place?’ Jeffrey considered. ‘Yes, it’s the likeliest explanation.’
‘I walked up to Beck Cottage before I came here, just to check. There wasn’t a sign of her. Mum’s in a right state. Terri’s like the daughter she never had.’ Robin caught Jeffrey’s sleeve. ‘I suppose she did get legless last night?’
Jeffrey’s eyes met Quin’s for a split second. ‘We all had way too much to drink. It was a party, the Knights are perfect hosts, what do you expect?’
‘Was there any trouble? Terri can’t keep her mouth zipped once she’s started drinking. She doesn’t know … when to stop.’
‘Hey, it was all fine. She was in high spirits from start to finish.’ Quin clapped his hands. ‘Come on, we need to get cracking, it won’t do Terri any good to be stuck outside and unable to move in this fucking awful weather.’
‘We’ll come with you,’ Daniel said.
‘Yes,’ Louise said. ‘The more people looking, the sooner we’ll find her.’
‘Let me call the Knights,’ Jeffrey said. ‘Just in case.’ A landline phone sat next to a serving hatch, and he punched in a number. ‘Hello, Melody, is that you? … Fine, now listen, we have Robin here. He’s in a state because Terri has gone AWOL. She hasn’t by any chance come to … Okay, right, just thought I’d check … Yes, it is. We’re setting out to look for her right now.’
He put down the receiver and shook his head. ‘No joy. Let’s get a move on.’
Lancaster University was hosting a symposium on cold case investigations. Representatives from a dozen police forces together with a sampling of forensic experts were there, to add a sprinkling of practical experience to academic theory. Lauren Self had decreed that the budget could stretch to allow Hannah to fly the flag for Cumbria Constabulary. Extolling the Cold Case Review Team’s successes seemed to Hannah a waste of time and money, given Lauren’s determination to rip it into shreds, but at least the jaunt would get her out of the office for a few hours. She’d have the chance to network with oppos from other forces, and
might even pick up a few tips to help fight her corner over the cutbacks.
The drive should have taken less than an hour, but the weather doubled the journey time. The ferocity of the downpour had contributed to a couple of accidents on the M6, with three lanes reduced to one, visibility poor, and progress reduced to a crawl. But the hypnotic swish of the windscreen wipers, and the soothing voice of Rumer on the CD player worked as a kind of therapy, allowing Hannah’s mind to wander from the wretchedness of the traffic conditions.
The good news about Marc didn’t quite wash away her guilt about her close encounter with Greg. But the guilt was about letting down herself, not Marc. He didn’t own her; never had, never would. He needed to grow up and get used to the idea of her being with another man.
But what other man? Not Greg, she told herself. It wasn’t appropriate, and she wasn’t his type of woman anyway. In her head, she heard Terri saying she was protesting too much, but what did Terri know? She hadn’t exactly made a success of her love life, and Stefan might be the biggest mistake of them all.
Daniel, then? She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. A long-term relationship was out of the question. Celebrity historian and country bumpkin cop? It didn’t compute.
Why not follow Terri’s example and live for the moment? Thinking long-term hadn’t exactly been a recipe for success, either at home or at work. Look at her now. Relationship shot to pieces, career in suspended animation. Her life was going nowhere, just like the queuing traffic.
With a glance into her mirror, she gave the wheel a sudden wrench, and swerved onto the hard shoulder, accelerating onto the slip road at the next junction. A change of direction was long overdue. She’d throw away the route map. Time to trust her instincts.
Jeffrey assumed command, announcing he was dividing them into two groups. He would lead Daniel and Louise along the paths that meandered around the Fell View side of Ravenbank. Robin and Quin were to search the area on the other side of the lane. The plan was to meet up outside the entrance to Ravenbank Hall once they’d covered every inch of ground between Watendlath and the Knights’ mansion.
‘You don’t think she and Robin had a row, and that explains why he missed the party?’ Louise asked.
Jeffrey stopped in his tracks. ‘Can’t see it – unless the row was in the early hours, after she left Miriam and went back home. Terri was in great form yesterday. But Robin’s an easy-going fellow, and he and Terri seem to get on like a house on fire.’
The wind was driving the rain into their faces, and the paths were thick with mud. Trees swayed like creatures from another world, taking part in a slow ritual dance. The moist smell of autumn earth and leaves filled Daniel’s sinuses. Louise thrust her cold hand into his, and he gave an answering squeeze. He guessed she was remembering the ghost hunt, and Terri’s boozy cheerfulness.
‘We’re almost at Ravenbank Corner,’ Jeffrey called over his shoulder, and soon they emerged from the wood, close to where they had looked in vain for Gertrude Smith’s
ghost. ‘Given that Robin has already walked up and down the lane, let’s take the path by the beck, and follow it round to the lake. We’ll come full circle before we cut across to the Hall.’
He stomped over to a well-worn pathway carpeted with leaves. Like the narrow beck, it disappeared into the trees they had staggered past the night before.
‘Daniel,’ Louise whispered. ‘What do you think has happened to her?’
‘Let’s not waste time speculating. We need to concentrate on finding her.’
‘You reckon she’s had an accident?’
‘It’s better than the alternative.’
‘You heard what Robin said about women in Ravenbank on Hallowe’en.’
‘Come on, we need to catch up with Jeffrey.’
They’d lost sight of him, but as they reached the path on the other side of the lane, they heard a loud shriek of pain, as if someone had shoved a knife into his heart.
‘Oh God,’ Louise whispered.
They ran into the wood. Jeffrey was twenty feet away, his back turned to them. Head bowed, he stood on the path close to the beck. He was staring at something in a dip in the ground, between the stream and Ravenbank Lane.
‘What is it?’ Daniel demanded.
Jeffrey turned to face them, his pudgy cheeks drained of colour.
‘A body, no signs of movement. I’m sure she’s dead.’ He was gasping for breath. ‘There’s something else. I can’t believe my own eyes.’
Daniel moved forward. He saw it for his own eyes at the same instant Jeffrey spoke again.
‘The face is covered with a blanket. And it’s soaked with blood.’
Hannah arrived at the campus in time to catch the tail end of the morning session of the symposium. A rotund Cornishman who looked more like a farmer than a forensic entomologist was speaking. His mission was to explain why the government’s decision to close the loss-making Forensic Science Service and contract the work out to the private sector was an enlightened example of forward-thinking, guaranteed to improve crime detection. A glance at the programme revealed that the speaker moonlighted from his university duties as a director of the company which was lead sponsor of the symposium. The firm provided analytical services to the police, and boasted every conceivable kitemark, as well, no doubt, as a fee tariff to match. No wonder the chap seemed so pleased with life.
Over an unexpectedly tasty lunch of
pollo alla cacciatora
, she chatted with colleagues from forces in the Midlands. They were appalled to hear that Lauren was butchering her team, but unsurprised. Nothing and nobody was sacred, given the government’s insistence on slashing the deficit the bankers had inflicted on the country. God knew where it was all going to end. As for their pensions …
‘DCI Scarlett?’
A thin, bespectacled woman, from her badge a member of the university staff, was bending over her shoulder so as to peer at her name tag.
‘That’s me.’
The woman coughed. Her demeanour suggested a lifetime spent apologising for things that weren’t her fault. ‘So sorry to disturb your lunch, but there is someone to see you.’
Hannah gave a wistful glance at the meringue sitting in front of her. It was simply begging to be eaten.
‘Give me five minutes?’
‘I’m afraid she says it’s very urgent.’ A nervous titter. ‘I don’t think it can wait.’
The cops from the Midlands exchanged glances. Hannah read their minds.
Sounds like that cow she works for has gone on the warpath
. For God’s sake, was there no escape?
Hannah stood up. ‘Excuse me, lads. Back in a tick. Don’t let them nick my dessert.’
She followed as the woman trotted through the crowded dining area. Lauren must want another chat about the team restructure. It had to be bad news, but Hannah reckoned she’d made it through the pain barrier. She felt in the mood to cope with anything.
But – why drag her out to the phone? Why not call her mobile?
‘Your colleague is waiting for you in the overseas admissions tutor’s room,’ the woman said.
Hannah halted in mid-stride. Lauren wouldn’t have come all the way out here. Surely Greg hadn’t taken it into his head to turn up?
‘Did my colleague give a name?’
The woman tittered again; it was like a nervous reaction. Her manner suggested she’d just been arrested for a crime of which she knew nothing.
‘Detective Chief Inspector Larter.’
Fern? It made no sense. Hannah shrugged and the
woman led her down a long corridor. At the final door, she ventured a timid knock before stepping back to let Hannah through.
Fern sat on the near side of an imposing teak desk. She’d crammed her considerable bulk into one of a pair of chairs apparently designed for size zero students. Her face was creased with pain, as though every joint in her body hurt. She struggled to her feet, and motioned for Hannah’s guide to leave. With a nervous titter of farewell, the bespectacled woman shut the door on them.
‘What’s all this about, Fern?’ Hannah sounded angry, but really she was just bewildered.
Fern put a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. ‘Sit down, kid. I’m so sorry. There simply isn’t an easy way to give you this news.’
‘Marc? But the doctor said …’
Fern shook her head. ‘Nothing to do with Marc.’
Something in her friend’s expression, a sorrowful compassion she’d never seen before, frightened Hannah more than any words. She felt a choking sensation.
‘What?’ she whispered.
‘It’s Terri.’ Fern cleared her throat; tears glinted in her eyes. ‘Her body was found near Ullswater this morning. Someone has battered her to death.’
‘Stefan Deyna killed her,’ Hannah’s voice was flat and lifeless. It was as if Terri’s murderer had cut out her heart, leaving a vacuum to be filled with bitter despair. ‘He couldn’t have her, so he made sure nobody else could.’
‘We’ll soon have the bastard under lock and key,’ Fern promised. ‘It’s only a matter of time.’
They were back at HQ in Kendal, in Fern’s office, with its Lauren-defying Cluttered Desk Policy. A DC in Fern’s team had driven them from Lancaster; Fern had insisted on arranging for someone to pick up Hannah’s car. She’d turned a deaf ear to Hannah’s protests that she was fit to drive.
During the journey back up the motorway, Fern had described the discovery of the body at Ravenbank. Terri had been bludgeoned to death, and her face covered with a rough blanket. She’d been found by a small party of locals; together with two visitors, of all people, Daniel
Kind and his sister. Within minutes, interviews revealed that Terri was being stalked by her former lover. Fern, who was familiar with Ravenbank and its inhabitants from the Shenagh Moss inquiry, didn’t only have Robin Park’s word for it; all the neighbours knew Stefan was refusing to let Terri go. She’d told everyone about his obsession.
There was more. Already Fern’s team had picked up a reported sighting of Stefan’s hired Ford Fiesta, on the narrow road bordering Ullswater’s east bank, at one o’clock that morning. He’d nearly crashed into a Mercedes coming in the opposite direction, not long after midnight. He’d clipped the wing mirror of the other car, but rather than stopping to inspect the damage, and exchange insurance details, had sped off in the direction of Pooley Bridge. Motive and opportunity were in the bag. With a known prime suspect, all Fern needed was to find him.
As the SIO in charge of the case, she had a thousand and one things to do in the first twenty-four hours after the crime, those ‘golden hours’ on which so much depended. But she’d been determined to break the news to Hannah in person. It wasn’t solely a matter of kindness. As Terri’s oldest friend and confidante, Hannah might possess information that could help to make a murder charge stick. Sure enough, Hannah had painted fresh detail into the picture formed by talking to people at Ravenbank, including the story of the missing cat.
‘So Stefan packed his bags and buggered off?’
Fern nodded. ‘In a tearing hurry, by the look of things. He rented a bedsit in Patterdale, and moved in after he and Terri split up. The house is owned by a nice old couple who live on the premises. See no evil, hear no evil types.
He left sometime after midnight, owing a month’s rent. They were fond of him, and hadn’t pressed for the cash. Needless to say, he didn’t supply a forwarding address. His car’s already been found abandoned in a side road near Oxenholme Station.’
Oxenholme, on the outskirts of Kendal, lay on the West Coast main line. You could reach central London within three hours on a Pendolino train.
‘Presumably he’ll have headed south rather than to Scotland?’
‘I guess so. We don’t yet know whether he bought a ticket this morning, but that won’t take long to confirm. The first train of the day arrived at Euston around nine in the morning, so he’s a few hours ahead of us. London’s an ideal place to hide, but we’re checking out people he might be acquainted with down there. Hot on the trail, trust me.’
With Terri gone, there was nobody else in the world right now whom Hannah trusted as much as Fern. In the blink of an eye, everything had changed. Strange to think that she’d never again hear that raucous laugh, see that conspiratorial wink, feel a hand tugging her sleeve, urging her to do something against her better judgement. You only live once, was Terri’s motto. Too true, love, too fucking true.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah.’ A barefaced lie, and they both knew it.
‘Will you let me organise that cup of tea and biscuit for you?’
‘No, thanks, I’m not sure I can keep anything down right now.’
Fern gave her a hard stare. ‘You’re not on some kind of guilt trip, are you?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘I know what you’re like. You take responsibility. Including when it isn’t yours to take. Admirable fault, some would say. Load of bollocks, in my book. You weren’t Terri’s keeper, you were her mate. I knew her too, remember. She wasn’t someone you could ever tell what to do. Don’t start torturing yourself because you didn’t save her from some sicko who couldn’t take no for an answer.’
Hannah gazed through the window at the cascade of rain. Fern’s office commanded a view of the force’s overflowing dustbins; a tiny act of malice on Lauren’s part the last time rooms had been reallocated. In the ACC’s eyes, Fern committed the dual sin of being not only highly effective, but also a fellow woman officer – and therefore a potential competitor. She hadn’t even given Lauren any chance to kick her into a career cul-de-sac such as cold case work. Hannah suspected that Fern frightened the ACC. Buried within that large, jolly body was an inner core of tungsten. Fern had the ruthlessness to go for the kill, whatever the consequences.
Stefan had better beware.
‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘No suppose about it. I’m always right. Question is, are you going to pay attention, or simply pretend to agree while quietly hating yourself for no earthly reason?’
‘Don’t worry about me.’
‘I don’t want you to be alone tonight. I’d invite you to stay at mine, you’re more than welcome. But Christ knows what time I’ll get back home. You’d be better with someone.’
‘I need to visit Marc. No need for your eyes to pop out
of your head, we’re not getting back together, quite the reverse. Last night he was involved in a car crash.’
‘For crying out loud, whatever next? What happened?’
Hannah had thought out her story. The truth, but much less than the whole truth, that was always the best plan. ‘He came round to Undercrag last night. Let’s just say it didn’t go well. He fucked off in a temper, and next thing I heard, he’d wrapped his car round a tree. But he’ll live. The damage he’s done to himself sounds pretty superficial.’
‘Oh God, what a plonker.’ Fern shook her head. ‘First that, then Terri. No wonder you look so frazzled.’
‘You’re so good for my morale.’ Hannah had glimpsed her pale, grief-stricken features in the rear-view mirror on the way here. She’d have made a suitable model for Edvard Munch in one of his bleaker moods.
‘Sorry, but that’s my point. When you’ve finished at the hospital, you don’t want to go back to that bloody great house in the middle of nowhere. You could do with some company. And you ought to take a spot of leave, while you’re at it.’
‘Not a good time. Might come back and find I don’t have a desk, let alone an office.’
‘Not even Lauren would do that to you.’
‘You reckon?’
‘She has nothing to gain for crucifying a popular officer for no good reason. Take some time out, you could do with it.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ Hannah said, wondering if she’d ever felt less popular.
‘Ever realised you do too much thinking for your own good?’ Fern levered herself out of her chair. ‘Seriously, Hannah, give yourself a break. Otherwise, you’ll fall to
pieces. Sorry to be blunt, but someone needs to say it. Now I really must hit the road. I’ll keep you posted. The minute we arrest him, you’ll be the first to know.’
Hurrying down the corridor back to her office, keen to have a few minutes to herself to get her head straight, she ran into Maggie Eyre. The DC’s face was an open book, as usual. Her frantic sympathy said louder than any words that everyone knew the DCI’s best friend was dead.
‘DS Wharf is looking for you, ma’am. He’s heard that DCI Larter brought you back from Lancaster.’ Maggie’s voice faltered. ‘It’s shocking news about …’
Hannah touched her arm. ‘Thanks, Maggie. Let’s hope the man who did it is nicked before the day is out, eh?’
She found Greg by the coffee machine. He started to say how sorry he was about Terri, but she cut him short and beckoned him into her room. When they’d last talked, a few hours earlier, it had seemed things could only get better after the debacle at Undercrag, and Marc’s car crash. If she could rewind the clock …
As the thought entered her mind, she banished it. Fern was right. The past was for learning from, not for living in.
‘I suppose there’s no doubt that Stefan killed her?’ Greg said.
‘Not in my mind. I’ve never known any man scare Terri before.’
‘Yeah, but Fern Larter won’t have ruled out other lines of enquiry.’
‘Such as?’ Hannah frowned. ‘Terri wasn’t someone who made enemies.’
‘Didn’t you tell me once she’d been married three times? Makes me look like a novice in the matrimonial stakes.
Even if she never knew it, she won’t have been everyone’s cup of tea.’
Hannah shrugged. ‘Terri was no saint, but that doesn’t mean anyone else wanted her dead. She wasn’t at daggers drawn with any of her exes.’
‘How can you be sure? They’ll have to be questioned.’
‘Not as easy as you may think. One moved to London, another emigrated to Crete, the third died last year of liver failure. Take it from me, Stefan’s the man. He was spotted in the vicinity of the murder scene, and promptly did a runner. The facts speak for themselves.’
‘Okay, okay.’ He was ready to change the subject. ‘I hate to say this, but you need to take a break. You look totally knackered.’
‘That’s twice in ten minutes I’ve been reminded what an ugly old hag I’ve become.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘But for a day or two, you need to look after yourself. Have you got anyone to stay with?’
Hannah’s eyes narrowed. Was Greg about to make her an offer she would have to refuse?
‘I’m sorted, thanks.’
He studied her, as if conducting a visual lie-detector test. Evidently he wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t push the point, and for that she was grateful. He sprang to his feet.
‘If I can do anything, even just offer a shoulder to cry on, you only have to call.’
‘Thanks.’
She avoided his eyes. Decision made. Last night had been a colossal mistake. She wasn’t going to make it again.
As the door swung shut behind Greg, she dug out her mobile. She’d switched if off after arriving in Lancaster, and the missed calls included one from Daniel Kind. He’d left a message on her voicemail. Hasty, breathless, yet characteristically polite. ‘Hannah, could you call me, please? It’s about poor Terri, of course. Thanks.’
Daniel, witness to the discovery of Terri’s corpse. She must speak to him. Fill in the pages missing from the story Fern had told her.
‘Hello?’
‘Hannah, thanks for calling back.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m so sorry about Terri. I know how close you two were.’
‘Fern told me you found … the body.’
The body
. This was Terri she was talking about. Her gorge rose.
‘I was with the man who did. One of her boyfriend’s neighbours.’
‘The boyfriend, yes. Tell me about him.’
‘All I can say is that Robin is in bits right now. It’s obvious he cared a lot for her.’
‘I realised there was someone, but I guessed wrong. I thought she’d got mixed up with the guy she worked for. I suppose I gave off vibes of disapproval, and that pissed her off.’
‘Oz Knight?’ He paused. ‘He has a track record as a womaniser, but I didn’t pick up any hint that he and Terri …’
‘The Knights are friends of yours?’
‘I only just met them. They organised a conference at the weekend, and I was a speaker. That’s how I met Jeffrey Burgoyne, who found Terri. He and his partner,
Alex Quinlan, are actors. They run their own two-man company.’
‘And Robin?’
‘I met him for the first time this morning. He turned up early, in a distressed state because Terri was missing. That’s why we set up the search party.’
‘Wasn’t Robin Park at this do at Ravenbank Hall?’
‘No, he was poorly.’
‘Are you saying Terri went without him?’ A thought struck her. ‘She wasn’t on a mission to chat up this man Knight, by any chance?’
‘Not as far as I’m aware. She was keeping Miriam Park company. Robin’s mother. Look, Hannah, it’s not easy talking on the phone. Can we get together this evening, are you free?’
‘My social calendar isn’t that crowded, to be honest. Though I need to visit Marc. He’s in hospital.’
‘God, what’s happened to him?’
‘He only wrapped his car round a tree last night. The silly man is lucky to be alive, even luckier that he’s come out of it with not much more than a few scratches.’
‘You’ve had a bellyful.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘Why don’t you come over to Tarn Fold? Louise can cook a meal. Stay over, if you like. After what’s happened …’
His voice trailed away. Hannah filled the silence.
‘That’s a kind offer. I’ll take you up on it before you have second thoughts.’
Hannah still hadn’t absorbed the news of Terri’s death, but she knew she couldn’t surrender to grief and misery. The
choice was to sink or swim. She steeled herself for a return visit to the dreaded hospital, and a difficult conversation with Marc. What, unaccountably, she forgot to bargain for was the brooding presence by his bedside of his mother. Mrs Amos had never taken much trouble to hide her belief that Hannah had never been good enough for her son. Nothing personal, really. Kate Middleton wouldn’t have come up to scratch, either.
‘Hello, Glenda.’ Marc’s eyes were clamped shut. Fast asleep, or engaging in a tactical retreat from tricky questions? The latter, more like. ‘How’s the patient?’
Glenda Amos grunted. Hannah thought the old woman had shrunk since their last meeting. Age and disappointed expectations were taking their toll. The atmosphere in the ward was stuffy, but she hadn’t undone a single button of her lime green overcoat. From the look on her face, she hadn’t quite worked out how to justify accusing Hannah of causing her son’s car crash, but it wouldn’t take her long. She was a grand mistress of the blame game.
Marc stirred, and made a little moaning noise, as if contriving a protracted return to consciousness. His mother gave a truculent sniff.