wasn’t.” The eldest boy shoved his younger brother. “We ain’t scared. None of us is scared.”
“No, I should think you’re all very brave, and you have a good big dog, don’t you?”
“He’s braver than all of us. He barks at that funny vicar, the one what comes over here sometimes.”
“Oh, does he?” said Maisie. “That’s a really brave dog!” She smiled upon the retriever, who was now laying in front of the children, somewhat less on guard, but still with his eyes on Maisie. “Why’s he a funny vicar?”
“My mum says he comes from a church that’s not right. She says that it’s not your C of E, so she won’t have anything to do with it,” said the older boy.
“But we don’t go to church anyway,” added a younger boy. His middle sister nudged him.
“So, you come over here all the time, then. You must know this place very well.” Maisie looked at the children, especially the older boy and girl.
“We don’t get told off over here, and me mum says we could get killed on them roads, if we play on them. We aren’t allowed near the canal, though. It’s too dangerous,” said the girl.
“It most certainly is dangerous, so it’s best you and your dog play right here,” said Maisie. “Well, I think I’ll go and have a look by those trees.”
“On yer own?” asked the middle girl.
“Yes, on my own.”
The girl’s eyes grew, and she pressed a finger to her lips. “You better be quiet then, in case you wake the giant what lives there.”
“What giant?”
“Joey said there was a giant, and if we didn’t behave—”
“I did not!” said Joey—the older boy.
“You did,” said the older girl.
“Look, let’s not have a row about it—I’ll look out for anyone bigger than me. It’s probably time for you all to be getting home.” She pulled half a crown—a small fortune for the children—from her purse. “Here, stop at the butcher’s and get your dog a bone—in fact, he should give you one for nothing, but if you have to pay, don’t give more than a farthing for it and make sure there’s meat on the bone. Give the rest of the money to your mum. Be sure to tell her it wasn’t a nasty man who gave you the money, but a lady who you helped. All right?”
“We was told not to talk to strangers,” said the smallest child, a girl.
“Then you were told right. Keep that dog fed and his coat shining, and don’t talk to any more strangers today.” Maisie moved to walk away, and waved to the children. “Bye!”
She did not look around, but could feel the group watching her as she made her way towards a clump of trees with low-hanging branches, a mixture of willow and birch, and with buddlea growing up here and there. Upon reaching the spot described by the children, it was easy to see what they meant—the grass was flattened, as if someone had been sleeping there. Maisie stepped around and in between the trees, then noticed a mound of grass at the foot of a birch tree. Investigating further—something the children had probably been scared to do, despite the brashness of their talk—she discovered a knapsack and blanket had been pushed in between the twin trunks of the tree and covered with grass. She looked around, then at the foot of the tree. She pulled out the knapsack and unbuckled the flap. Inside was a jacket, a woolen Guernsey-style pullover, and a water bottle of the type used by soldiers in the war. The name on the inside of the knapsack, clearly marked in indelible ink: Captain Arthur Payton. Maisie sat back on the grass, and looked around again. Who on earth was Captain Arthur Payton? Was she so completely out of her depth in this case that she had never come across a Captain Arthur Payton? Or on the other hand—why should she? A boy named Martin Robertson had discovered Maya Patel’s body, and he might never have been here and might have nothing to do with Jesmond Martin. This could be the hiding place for a man who had no work, perhaps a man wounded in the war and with no roof over his head except the sky. She looked up as tiny leaves fell from the birch trees. She didn’t need a dog to let her know that she could well have been barking up the wrong tree from the very beginning. And now it