Chapter Nineteen
‘She makes a good point,’ Cristy declared the next morning, as the team gathered with their hangovers, large mugs of coffee and some delicious pastries that Cristy had picked up on the way in.
David had left on an early train to London, with a wry reminder that it might be easier on their relationship if she were to move to the capital, given how often he had to be there himself.
Something else to throw into the decision making-mix – but right now, she was more focused on Hayley’s critique that they weren’t paying enough attention to the twins.
‘The problem is,’ she continued, ‘with them being so young when they disappeared, there’s not much we can say about them apart from the fact that they were tiny human beings totally dependent on their mother and vulnerable to just about everything the world could throw their way.’
‘Such as being used in some grotesque sort of ritual,’ Clove put in, with a grimace of distaste. ‘Or maybe they were handed over to some psychotic visionary, if that’s who Claude Major is, in order to … what … ? What would he have done with them?’
‘No probs,’ he responded, calling up the babies’ images on his screen.
‘Just make sure no one else gets hold of them,’ Connor cautioned. ‘It could backfire on us horribly if it turns out they really are dead.’ To Cristy, he said, ‘No news from Honey Blackwell yet today.’
‘Give her a chance,’ Cristy responded, checking the time. ‘She was due in court first thing, so we’re not likely to hear anything from her until later. I guess it’s also too early for feedback from the supersleuths?’ she asked Clove.
‘A brief initial report,’ Clove said, bringing it to her screen.
‘The usual nutters haven’t wasted any time – obvs already discounted.
An anonymous bloke claimed that Claude Major is John Major’s illegitimate son currently transitioning.
They obviously put that in for its amusement factor.
Apparently, someone saw Lauren Hawkes in Strasbourg last week pushing two babies in a pram.
I guess this person hadn’t worked out that the twins would be twenty-one by now, so most likely walking, although it does bring us back to a question we haven’t yet explored: was Lauren involved in the twins’ disappearance? ’
‘You mean working together with Nicole and/or Claude Major?’ Cristy said, trying to get a sense of how she felt about that. ‘It’s a definite possibility, although we know Lauren was questioned at the time, and clearly nothing came of it.’
‘Weird that Lauren ran off three years after Nicole was sent down,’ Clove mused. ‘I know her mother said she was depressed, took the whole thing really hard, but she also said Lauren was in touch with Claude Major during that time. What about Nicole? Was she in touch with her too?’
‘Shit!’ Connor muttered under his breath.
Cristy turned to him.
‘You’re not going to want to see this,’ he told her, ‘but you probably better had.’
He sent her the link and as Cristy read Molly Terrance’s online article aloud, she felt her insides tightening with outrage and fury.
Were we all glued to our tablets and smartphones last night in high anticipation of Cristy and Connor’s first episode of a new Hindsight series?
I’m sure many of you had better things to do, but yours truly decided to bite the bullet and dutifully downloaded on your behalf.
And what a lark it turned out to be. All that self-adulation on Cristy’s part, using her own reports from back in the day to tell the story of Nicole Ivorson and her baby twins, when others were far more informed than she ever showed herself to be.
I know, because I was there, and I can tell you that Hindsight’s laughable attempt to whip you up into a lather of horror concerning cults and missing cousins and mysterious Frenchmen driving blue cars isn’t only nonsense – it’s highly irresponsible.
I expected more from a couple of journalists who actually have a pretty decent track record, but it seems on this occasion, they’ve decided to compromise their own standards and reputations by spinning baseless rumour into purported fact and trying to haul the rest of us onto their sensationalist bandwagon with an invitation to take part in a search that will inevitably lead nowhere.
I, for one, will be sitting this series out.
‘Bitch!’ Clove spat disgustedly. ‘It’ll be because we didn’t use any of her sorry-ass material from back in the day.’
‘Also because we’ve stolen a march on her by launching the series now,’ Jacks put in. ‘She hasn’t run anything since she broke the non-starter “leads to the bodies”, so it’s my guess she’s been working on a massive spread of what happened back then, because it’s all she has.’
Still fuming, Cristy said, ‘We just have to hope that Nicole is as committed to maintaining her freedom as we’re told she is, because obviously any interaction with the Terrier stands zero chance of ending well for her.’
‘This piece has had a ton of views already,’ Clove grumbled, checking the screen.
‘Everything does on that website,’ Connor reminded her.
‘But come on, guys – this is hardly career-ending. Everyone knows what a lame-ass liar she is, especially those of us in the business. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if this provokes a serious backlash of high praise from other sources, given how unpopular she is.
So, ratings-wise at least, she could end up doing us a favour. ’
‘I don’t believe it!’ Cristy exclaimed in shock as her phone rang. ‘She’s actually bloody calling me.’
‘Cut her off,’ Clove instructed. ‘Why the hell would you want to speak to her?’
Cristy almost hit decline, until, realizing it was a video call, she decided to hell with it, and clicked on.
Moments later, the detestable Molly Terrance with her luxuriant cascades of mousey-brown hair, ludicrous lash-extensions and ever-so-slightly buck teeth was filling all their screens.
‘Cristy!’ she cried cheerily, as if they were old friends reuniting after a lengthy time apart.
‘How wonderful to see you, and you’re looking terrific as always. ’
Since she was hungover, un-made-up, and her hair was scrunched into a ponytail, Cristy almost gagged on the shameless obsequiousness. ‘Hello, Molly,’ she said coolly, ‘what can I do for you?’
‘Oh dear.’ Molly grimaced playfully. ‘Methinks you’ve already seen my piece.
Sorry, didn’t mean to offend, but you know how it is: us girls are dependent on clicks and shares these days, and telling it like it is doesn’t always work out so well.
I’m sure you’ll find your pod last night will prove my point.
Going with a rehash of what everyone already knows will earn you more yawns than likes.
You have to get the punters worked up somehow, and facts are so yesterday, aren’t they?
I guess that’s why you fixed on the cult.
I don’t blame you, but we know it isn’t going anywhere, don’t we? ’
Biting out the words, Cristy said, ‘Still waiting for why you’re ringing.’
Terrance smiled, showing her white buck teeth. ‘Always straight to the point – that’s what I love about you. Well, I was going to ask if you’d like to meet for a coffee, but I’m getting the impression you might not be up for it.’
Appalled, Cristy said, ‘You’re in Bristol?’
‘I could be if you wanted to meet.’
‘And why would I want to do that?’
Tilting her head, the Terrier said, ‘Maybe you’d like to discuss how we can go forward together on this story?’
Cristy could only conclude she’d lost her mind.
‘Think about it,’ Terrance said, swiping her copious locks over one shoulder. ‘A collaboration could generate more coverage, more prestige and results than either of us might otherwise manage.’
‘Prestige?’ Cristy repeated incredulously. ‘You are joking, of course.’
‘Not at all, and you really should try to get over your prejudice where tabloids are concerned – it’s not useful. Think about The Sunday Times and Channel 4 News; BBC Panorama and the Observer …’
‘Neither of which are tabloids …’
‘But they are examples of successful collaborations. You could break new ground for a podcast by linking up with a major newspaper. New media merges with mainstream to deliver high quality and in-depth reporting to the masses.’
Cristy almost laughed. ‘And exactly how does that work with facts being so yesterday?’ she wanted to know.
Apparently unfazed, Terrance said, ‘There are many ways to approach a story, as we both know only too well …’
‘Ours is not to make things up or disregard the truth if it doesn’t fit the preferred narrative, and why the hell you think we’d work with you after what you ran this morning …’
‘Clicks and shares.’ Terrance’s tone was condescending to the extreme.
‘For God’s sake, do you even care about your own credibility?’ Cristy cried. ‘If you moved forward with Hindsight now, after the way you trashed us …’
‘People have short memories. All they want to know about are the gory details, and if getting to those details means taking a bullhorn to the whisper of a sinister cult – as you have already – they’ll leap on board, no matter who’s running the show.
Hell, half of them – no, most – don’t even know our names. ’
‘This conversation’s over,’ Cristy told her abruptly. ‘We’re really not interested in collaborating with anyone – I could say least of all you, but that would be rude …’
‘It would, but I deserve it given what I said about you in my piece. Please just give it some thought. I know you wouldn’t want to let anyone down.’
Cristy hesitated, sensing a kind of undertone to those last words.
Terrance’s eyebrows rose. ‘Our mutual friend, Vikram Rathour, asked me to send his best when I spoke to you. He’s very keen on the idea of us working together.’
And a beat later, she’d gone.