‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m just checking through her directory, to see if there are any names I don’t recognize … Aha!’ she exclaimed. ‘Who’s ET? ET home? 0208 341 6565–isn’t that Highgate? It is, isn’t it? Did Bee know anyone in Highgate, Flint?’
Flint shrugged. ‘Not that I’m aware of.’
‘OK, what about ET work? 0207 786 2218 – that’s the West End, in’t it? Soho? Well – there’s only one way to find out who they belong to.’ She started tapping in some more numbers and then straightened her back and cleared her throat.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m phoning it, doofus-features, what’ you think I’m doing?’
‘Yeah – but what are you going to say, exactly?’
‘I dunno,’ she said, ‘I’ll wing it, I guess.’
‘OK,’ said Ana, wedging herself between the two of them before they started bickering again, ‘we should really decide which number to dial first and what we’re going to say.’
‘Right,’ agreed Lol, switching off the phone. ‘It’s a Sunday and the Soho number’s probably an office number, so let’s call the Highgate number. OK?’
Flint and Ana nodded.
‘And what are you going to say?’
Lol shrugged. ‘I dunno. What d’you think I should say, Ana?’
‘How about just being plain, you know? Just saying who you are and how you found the number and why you’re calling.’
‘Brilliant!’ she beamed, before handing it over to Ana. ‘You do it,’ she said, ‘people respond better to a posh accent.’
‘I’m not posh,’ exclaimed Ana.
‘No – but you know what I mean.’
Ana shrugged and took the phone. ‘OK,’ she said, before dialling the number. ‘It’s ringing.’
She took a deep breath while she waited for the phone to be picked up. This could be it, she thought. Finally. After all this wild-goose chasing and all these dead-ends, at last they were going to talk to someone who might have some idea what exactly Bee had been up to for the last three years of her life.
A man picked up. ‘Hello.’
Ana widened her eyes at Flint and Lol to indicate that she’d got through.
‘Oh. Er. Hi,’ she began.
‘Hello.’
‘Hi. Erm. My name’s Ana Wills. I don’t know if you’ve heard of me.’
‘No,’ he said, bluntly.
‘Well, I’m the sister of – well, half-sister, to be accurate – of Bee? Bee Bearhorn?’
‘Oh.’
‘And, well, this is her mobile phone I’m calling from.’
‘Right. Good.’
There was something very disconcerting about this man’s manner. ‘Yes – and your number comes up as the last number to phone her on this, er, number.’ Ana took another deep breath before she ended up saying ‘number’ again.