Beyond Paradise

Let me out!

All right!

Let me out! Mr Franklin?

Ah!

Come on! Third time this week I've had to call the police.

Come on. This town's being taken over by yobs.

Um... He's been keeping me hostage.

I found him there asleep,

surrounded by all the food he's pilfered.

What, three stale custard creams?

Follow me.

Um, yeah.

What's your name?

Adam Walsh.

What were you doing in that man's shed?

I came to stay with a mate last night, but we fell out.

Just needed to get my head down,

but then I woke up, and that old crank had locked me in.

Am I going to get done or what?

I don't think they hand out CUSTARD-ial sentences

for stealing biscuits.

CUSTARD-ial...

...as in custard creams.

Forget it.

Where do you live? Exeter.

OK, straight on the train, go on home.

Don't want to see you round here again.

I just want to get home, have a shower and some food.

I'm starving.

Oh!

Mum's cheese and home—made pickle sandwiches.

Take it for the journey, if you like.

Oh, cheers. OK.

Go on.

Oi! Is that it?

You won't be having any more trouble from him,

Mr Franklin.

I'll hold you personally responsible if I do.

Just so you know, Mr Franklin,

false imprisonment is also a criminal offence.

Unbelievable.

Aww, Humphrey and I appreciate that.

Thanks. Bye.

That was Hannah... Oh.

...checking on us after our meeting the other day.

Pausing fostering still feels like the right thing to do.

Yeah, it's probably for the best,

especially now we're back living with your mum.

Exactly.

Green or blue? What do you think?

Well, it's a bit formal for a Tuesday morning.

The WI ladies are taking me out tomorrow evening.

Again? Oh, between us,

they've become slightly suffocating

since I've become councillor.

Hmm?

Uh, they're both nice.

Uh, the green one, then.

You're just saying that to shut me up.

Humphrey? Green, to match your eyes.

My eyes are brown.

So they are.

Sorry.

Hello.

Right. On my way.

Saved by the bell.

Hiding from the paparazzi?

Pardon?

Well, don't get me wrong. They're very stylish.

Not a criticism.

Is it an image revamp? No.

It's a tension headache

from a cricked neck and no sleep,

but thanks for the compliment.

Ah!

Ah, Rosewood Cottage, where are you?

Are you the police?

Hello?

Mrs Harris?

I've been hiding in case they came back.

Right.

Oh, darling, I am so sorry. I was with a client.

My phone was off.

Um...

Clive Harris. I'm June's husband.

Yeah, DI Goodman. This is DS Williams.

I'm sorry we weren't here earlier too.

It's slightly tricky to find.

We are tucked away here.

It was much easier to find when the woodwork was pink,

albeit slightly garish.

Uh, shall we go inside, Mrs Harris?

Look at it. They've wrecked the place.

Sorry, Mrs Harris,

what exactly did you notice was wrong?

The whole place was upside down.

They'd turned the drawers out.

This chair was on its side.

It was all a mess.

How are you so good at it?

At what?

Adulting.

I mean, you make it look so easy,

doing ten different things at once

and you're not even stressed.

I'm just good at hiding it.

Besides, stress isn't always a bad thing.

We wouldn't get what we wanted without it.

But what if you don't know what you want?

Like, I really like what I do here, but I'm...

...I'm just worried

that it's not what I want to do long term.

I should hope not.

I don't want to see you go, Zoe,

but you've got a whole life to live.

Doing what, though?

You're 18. You've got bags of time.

Takes six years to train to be a vet.

Do you want to be a vet? No, I'm just making a point.

How did you decide?

I didn't. I went travelling.

Thailand, Vietnam, Malaysia and the Caribbean.

That must have been incredible.

It was the best thing I could have done.

I went alone and it taught me more than any course ever did.

Really? Weren't you frightened?

Sometimes, but that's life, isn't it?

My advice is to have all the experiences you can,

good and bad.

Take risks.

Choose adventure, Zoe.

Bingo!

I know what I saw.

You're sure there's nothing missing?

I've checked.

Everything appears to be where it should.

"Understanding Attachment Disorders by Dr Clive Harris."

I'm a clinical psychologist.

And a published one at that.

Hmm. I'm sorry.

What happens now?

Without any evidence of a break—in, then I'm afraid

there's nothing much we can do.

I am not mad!

No—one's suggesting that, Mrs Harris.

You don't need to. Clive is diagnosing me as we speak.

June, that's not true.

Yeah, I... Thank you both for your time.

I'm sorry if I've wasted it.

Of course not. You're very welcome.

Uh, nothing to...

..apologise for.

Have there been any causes for concern with June recently,

psychologically?

Nothing. I'm as perplexed as you are.

Yes, well, you know where we are.

Yes. Sergeant.

Thank you. Thank you.

Might be the start of something to do with her mental health.

Yes.

Oh, there's a "but" coming.

I believe her.

You think someone trashed the place,

then immediately put everything back

exactly as it was?

Not exactly as it was.

Dr Harris's book was upside down.

That's odd, don't you think?

When the rest of the shelves were so neat?

A profile here on the eminent Dr Clive Harris

in The Times last month.

"I became a psychologist because I care."

Oh, the burglary on Millstone Lane.

I'd give my right arm for a burglary at the minute.

Honestly, if I get one more call-out

about kids doing wheelies in the high street

or eating people's custard creams,

I'm going to scream.

Well, it wasn't actually a burglary,

so you didn't miss out on anything.

But I took the call. Poor woman was hysterical.

The house was immaculate.

What's going on, then?

Not sure yet, but she certainly seemed convincing.

Maybe it's like that old film,

where the husband gaslights the wife into thinking

she's gone doolally.

Oh, what's it called now?

Um...

...Gaslight? That's the one.

Oh! Says here they fostered, too.

"Dr Harris's interest in attachment theory

"inspired him and his wife

"to foster children from troubled backgrounds."

Doesn't sound like a manipulative gaslighter.

Hmm.

I did an online quiz about this.

Apparently, I've got an anxious attachment style.

Oh, I don't buy into all that nonsense.

That's because you're an avoidant.