IESTYN had disappeared. He had left his silver chain, the jacobus he wore round his neck. She had found it coiled on the bedside table near the clock but at 42 Jericho Drive there had been no reply to her doorbell ringing. The pale maroon and orange curtains of Iestyn's bedroom were closed. Everywhere was closed.
The Jorum Gallery, dark and a notice reading
CLOSED
pasted on the glass door.
The Jacquard Club, dark and a notice reading CLOSED
pinned to its black doors.
The Jester pub, dark and a notice reading
CLOSED
printed over the picture board.
The town was virtually empty, a ghost town, the normally crowded shops deserted, the usually ringing cash tills silent. What had she missed? She rang the office. There was no reply, except Bob Dylan singing 'Jokerman' on the answerphone.
"It's a shadowy world, skies are slippery gray,
A woman just gave birth to a prince today and dressed him in scarlet,"
Veda had visited
King James' School
(_est. 1976)
Head Teacher: Mrs A. Andrews, MA
Chair of Governors: Mr J. Jorum
No. on roll: 1688
Sursum Corda
It was a huddled collection of three storey grey and white buildings surrounded by playing fields, fancifully described in its own prospectus as "an island of learning in a sea of nature." She had come up with a ruse to gain entry, namely that she wished to interview Iestyn for the paper but the secretary had told her that he had gone away. Then they found his file had also gone away. The secretary typed his name into the computer and, to her horror, unleashed a virus. Veda had watched as the data disintegrated.
As they watched, even those details blinked and died, leaving behind just a solitary, winking J A SO N
Whilst the secretary had panicked, Veda had smiled grimly. She had already noticed that in the 9B class photograph, the face of Iestyn Elwyn Stuart Thomas had been scratched out.
She had gone on to the graveyard of St John's Church. The headstone had been easy to find, standing proudly amidst long, unkempt grass and tall trees with long, embracing branches. A single red rose lay upon the grave. It was fresh. She had stepped back to read the inscription.
ELWYN STUART
THOMAS
taken from us tragically aged 42
beloved husband of Tabitha and father of Iestyn
"No man in his right senses chooses falsehood over truth."
St Justin Martyr
Suddenly she knew where she had to go. The card in Iestyn's pocket, the missing jigsaw piece, the CDs, everything pointed north. She had set off immediately. Or more or less immediately. She went home for her road map, her file of postcards, articles, clippings and clues, and a quick bite of lunch. She fastened the jacobus round her neck, slung seom clothes into a bag and steeled herself for her Vital Journey.
At the same moment, Jemadar Jannock hammered a large signboard into the soft flowerbed soil outside 42 Jericho Drive. The sign read: