To Tell the Truth by Anna Smith

herself. She decided to let him talk, make him feel at ease. If he had something interesting then fine. If not, it had brightened up a dull afternoon.
    ‘Listen, Taha.’ Rosie stretched her hand across so it brushed his wrist. ‘Before we start talking here, you haveto know you can trust me. I won’t betray you. But if you know something about the little girl, about Amy, then we have to find a way to let the police know. But whatever you tell me, be assured, you can trust me to look after you.’
    Taha took a sip of his coke. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
    ‘OK. I understand. But I am worry … Because of what I do and the people I work for. They are not good people. Dangerous.’ Taha looked edgy.
    ‘I understand,’ Rosie said. ‘But you have to trust me. My name is Rosie Gilmour, and I work for a newspaper in Scotland called the Post . OK? I am over here to look at the story of the little girl. She might have been stolen. Maybe kidnapped … ?’
    The boy looked down, twisted his glass on the table cloth for a few moments, then looked up at Rosie.
    ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I think she was stolen. I saw. I saw someone.’
    She took a deep breath. She read his face for lies, for any sign of a set-up. If he was lying he was good, very good.
    ‘Tell me, Taha. What did you see? Were you on the beach?’
    He looked down again. ‘No. I was in a villa. But close. I could see—’ He bit the inside of his jaw. ‘I was with someone on the balcony. We saw the girl on the beach. Someone took her.’
    Rosie sat back. She let the silence take over for a moment. She knew Taha was waiting for her to ask.
    ‘You were with a client?’
    ‘Yes.’ Taha looked a little sheepish, but Rosie probed.
    ‘A man?’
    ‘Yes. A British man. A big important man, I think.’
    Rosie took a sip of her iced tea.
    ‘Taha.’ She spoke quietly, almost in a whisper. ‘Can you tell me what you saw. Just what you saw from the balcony.’
    ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I was on the balcony. With the man. It was before we … Before … You know?’
    Rosie nodded her understanding, waved him to go on.
    ‘We were talking a bit and looking at the sea. A small girl was on the beach. No people with her. Then a man came and lifted her up and took her away.’
    ‘Maybe it was her father,’ Rosie said. ‘What made you think it wasn’t her father?’
    Taha shrugged. ‘It was nothing to us then. Nothing, when it happened. But after … After some time, we saw the woman come out of the house nearby, and another man also came out of the house a bit later. They were running and the woman cried a lot. She called a name, like she was looking for somebody. That was when I think maybe she is stolen. Then the papers and television say a small girl is taken.’
    Rosie listened. It had Monday’s splash and spread stamped all over it. If what he’d seen was Jenny Lennon and O’Hara coming outside, then this was not the version they’d told the world. O’Hara had said he was walking down the beach when he heard Jenny coming out of the house screaming. This was a different account entirely.But based on what, she could hear McGuire saying. The word of a rent boy? She’d been here before.
    ‘Did you see anything before that, Taha?’ Rosie wanted to be clear. ‘Did you see a man coming down the beach towards the woman who was screaming?’
    ‘No,’ he said, looking bewildered. ‘I only saw the girl, then a man take her, then after some time the man and woman come from the house. That’s all.’
    Rosie nodded.
    ‘So what did you do after that? Did you see anything else. Would you recognise the man?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ the boy said. ‘I don’t think so. After that my friend – the man – he left. Then I left. It is the normal thing when I go to that house with a client.’
    ‘So the man was a client?’ Rosie asked. ‘The British man?’
    ‘Yes,’ Taha nodded. ‘I been there with him before. Once last week, and twice last year,