GERRY MCCANN’S REVERIE

A 21-chapter novel, based partly on fact by ‘Montmorillonite’

Exclusive to ‘Truth for Madeleine’

Dr Gerry McCann cast his eyes up to the snow-white, stucco wall of his Mediterranean mansion – or ‘villa’, to use the Mediterranean term – and gazed adoringly at the deep purple bougainvillea, which was at its prolific best at this time of year.

It had been one of those features of the mansion – villa – which had caught his eye when he decided to invest some of the proceeds of the Helping to Find Madeleine Fund in a summer house by the sea. Of course, the Fund hadn’t directly paid anything towards his acquisition of the sprawling house – no, that wouldn’t have been right at all.

But he’d worked hard for the Fund by appearing on all those TV shows, which, in return for exclusive coverage of the latest thoughts of himself and his lovely wife Kate, gave generous donations to the Helping to Fund Madeleine Fund. It was only right that a proportion of those donations, in this case 95%, should be paid to him and Kate. Without them and their unflagging public relations efforts, the Helping to Find Madeleine Fund would have next to nothing in its coffers.

The only sounds that Gerry could hear were the whirring of the crickets – you could never quite get away from them in the Mediterranean countryside – the occasional bird, and the lazy hum of aeroplanes flying thousands of feet above him as they made their way to the nearest airport, some 25 miles away. He momentarily raised his eyes towards one of them as it left its pencil-straight vapour trail etched over the light, wispy cirrus clouds which occupied little patches of the otherwise deep blue Mediterranean sky.

He and Kate had returned half-an-hour ago from the upmarket little restaurant in the small town four miles away from their new holiday home. They went there because the owner would seat them in a reserved alcove, where they could not be seen or easily heard by the other diners. Neither of them felt comfortable on ‘open view’, as it were. Their faces had become too well known after their superhuman efforts to locate their missing daughter, Madeleine.

Now they wanted some peace and quiet, just being on their own, the two of them. Being recognised by ordinary people made them uncomfortable. In some ways, he reflected, it would be better to avoid people altogether while on holiday, and have their meals at home. But then Kate had never been one for home cooking.

They had, of course, been able to afford the top-priced ‘Menu a 85 euros’. A delicious plate of ‘Crudites’ had been followed by a cold salmon course and then by the main dish, a magnificent ‘Boeuf Bouguignon’ cooked in a divine sauce. Then came a dish of peaches served in a tequila cocktail with cassis ice cream, followed by a splendid selection of the best French cheeses, including their favourite French goat’s cheese. The coffee ‘grand cremes’ they sipped at the end of their meal, a snip at 6.50 euros a cup, were an added extra, meaning they dined out for under 200 euros – around £160.00.

Gerry took another sip from his bottle of Nuits St. Georges 1990 vintage – one of his favourite tipples, along with Montana Sauvignon Blanc. But ever since he’d bought a bottle of the Sauvignon Blanc at the Baptista supermarket in Praia da Luz, and had had a couple of glasses from it barely 49 minutes before Madeleine had been abducted, that had never tasted quite the same as it used to, though it reminded him of happy times in New Zealand.

He made a mental note that it had been really good of David James Smith of ‘The Times’ to add in that detail about him watching TV in the apartment and sipping his Sauvignon Blanc, just before locking up the kids again for the evening in the dark, unlit holiday apartment, with the shutters, windows and curtains all closed, as usual. Mind you, he and Kate had taken the precaution of leaving the patio door unlocked, just in case there was a fire.

David Smith had added another useful touch in his report as well – how he and Kate had struck up a conversation at 8.35pm – he was always so precise with his times – with a couple from Hertfordshire who had brought their children along with them. He brought Smith’s words to mind: “As they chatted, Gerry thought how lucky he was, his children asleep nearby, he and Kate free to come and enjoy some adult time at the restaurant and not have to sit with their children, as this couple were”. Yes, he reflected, some couples simply didn’t know how to relax properly. How could you enjoy yourself in the evening, after a hard day with the children, with them running around and butting in to one’s adult conversation?

As he sipped gently on his wine, he reflected on the wisdom of the decision he and Kate had made to leave the twins at home while they had their summer holiday. It was mostly for the children’s benefit, anyway. They liked staying with their aunt, and, he mused, it does young children good to be away from their parents from time to time, so they don’t get too dependent on them. They always seemed to be so happy when they dropped them off at the day nursery back at home in Rothley.

Indeed, it was almost as if they preferred being in the nursery to staying at home. The nursery wasn’t cheap. But the way the children eagerly dashed in to the nursery showed what a fine job the staff there were doing. It gave them a huge start in life in their education and in things like socialising with their peers and other adults.

Kate was indoors. Gerry wasn’t sure what she was doing. She seemed to be tired, always wanting to rest.

As the shade temperature was about to reach its peak, in the mid-afternoon – around 95 degrees F, typical for the height of summer – Gerry felt his eyelids beginning to droop. The four course lunch, the wine and the summer heat were taking their toll on his natural vitality and exuberance.

His mind began to wander to that extraordinary day in May 2007 when the course of his life changed irrevocably. Part of the reason his mind did this was because he was aware of three or four really important TV interviews coming up in the autumn. In advance of these, he had to continually rehearse what had actually happened on 3rd May, in case he made any mistake.

by ‘Montmorillonite’ -  COPYRIGHT