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Die: “I was thinking of your bed in fact.”
Lovett: “In your dreams pal.”
Die: “Constantly.”
Lovett dunks all of what is left of her spring roll into the sweet and sour sauce and stuffs the whole dripping sticky mess into her mouth making her cheeks bulge. And talking with her mouthful.
Lovett: “I really hate Sundays.”
Cut to black.
David Sylvain sings from ‘All Tomorrows Parties’
‘When Monday comes around
She’ll turn once more to Sunday’s clown
And cry behind the door’
Fade from black to the inside of another London cab. Lovett and die are bumping along again but this is a much more open quiet suburban street.
Die: “What’s this place we’re going to called again?”
Lovett: “Saint Nicholas’. It a children’s care home.”
Die: “So an orphanage?”
Lovett: “It’s that too but it deals with and homes troubled kids, if they are orphans or not.” “We need a car. Why haven’t you got a car?”
Die: “SIS took it back when I started doing this with you. I do miss my F-type…”
Dies phone buzzes and he reaches into his jacket pulling the phone out and looking at it.
Die: “…A message from Harry…”
Lovett tuts and looks disdainful. Lovett seems to be a partially bad mood.
Lovett: “What does she want, a dinner date?”
Dies ignores this and reads out loud from the phone.
Die: “The DIFS has one near hit so far. She has a sixty five percent match of a girl by the name Julia-Anne Boniface…”
Lovett: “Boniface?!”
Die: “…she was aged nine…”
Lovett: “What do you mean was aged nine?”
Die: “…this can’t be right.”
Lovett: “Why? What else does it say?”
Die: “Julia-Anne disappeared without a trace from mother’s funeral in Manchester…”
Lovett: “What’s she doing in London then?”
Die: “…in two thousand and seven.”
Lovett: “I knew that Harry was idiot.”
Die: “That would make her twenty three now.”
Lovett: “Your difs is useless then.”
Die: “It is still running. We might get something else. I’ve never known it be that wrong before.”
Lovett: “Remind me to ring Hogges later about that name, ok.”
Die: “Boniface? Why, you know it?”
Lovett: “Yes, no, kind of. I have a vague feeling of hearing Hogges say it ages ago.”
The cab is now pulling into a big open gated drive-way the sound of the tyres on gravel can be heard. A head is a large imposing Victorian brick house; that at night would be the stuff of nightmares.
Cab Drive: “We’re here love.”
Die: “My God this is it? Does Dracula sleep in the basement?”
Lovett is looking a little tense and almost whispers to herself.
Lovett: “It’s smaller than I remember.”
Quick fade to black.