by Linda Coles
Twenty minutes later they were on the platform waiting. As Chrissy recited the conversation between herself and DS Alan Davies, Julie’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“How exciting!” she exclaimed.
Chrissy hoped it would, in fact, be so. Maybe she’d been wrong about Susan staying in the city after all.
Chapter Sixty-Two
It was significantly easier for two attractive women to get a lift than it was for two guys and they struck lucky within minutes of trying. Even if it was a tight squeeze in the lorry’s cab. Kirsty opted for the middle seat, sitting close to the driver, who, in this case, also turned out to be a woman. Somewhat big and butch with close-cropped grey hair and tattoos around each wrist, she seemed pleasant enough, welcoming the two aboard with a broad, toothy grin.
“Can’t leave you two girls out there all alone. You’ll be safer with me,” she’d quipped as they settled in and fastened seatbelts. “Who smacked your face, love?” she asked Tabby. The sudden and direct question threw her off balance a little – she’d only just met the woman. Instinctively, she touched her brow area, the lump had gone down but she knew it was still a rainbow of colours, mainly purple and yellow. “A man was it?” the woman prodded.
“No, it wasn’t a man actually. A bit of an accident in a vehicle. I banged my head.”
The driver flicked her chin at her as if to say ‘whatever’, then introduced herself as Maureen.
“I’m Kirsty and this is Tabby,” Kirsty replied by way of their own introduction. Would there be a cat comment coming?
“Tabby. I had a tabby cat once, called it Henry, though she was a girl.” At least the name Susan hadn’t brought up everybody’s ‘Susan’ experience like her new name did. But then that was then and this was now, and she didn’t much feel like a Susan any more. Maureen carried on, “What’s in Albi for you both, then?” Maureen had pulled back on to the road and they rumbled along, gaining speed.
“Work and a room. For the rest of the summer, we’re hoping.” Tabby let Kirsty do the talking.
“Sounds great. I did that one time, many summers ago. It wasn’t Albi, it was Paris and I had an absolute ball. Heck of a time actually. I made ice creams for the whole summer.” Was there a reason for this or was she making polite conversation? “I was a whole lot younger then,” she said. There was something sad in the way she spoke that Tabby picked up on. Intrigued, she probed with a question of her own.
“And what happened?” she asked.
“I got in a spot of bother,” Maureen offered, face focused on the road ahead. “But that’s history, so keep yourselves out of mischief is my advice,” she added hurriedly.
“You can’t tell us half a story,” Kirsty whined. “What was the spot of bother?”
Maureen must have been considering what or how much to tell, because it was a long moment before she spoke again. Tabby was about to change the subject with something mundane but didn’t get the chance.
“Ah, what the bother. I’ve long past cared what people think of me and you might learn from it, though at your age you should know better anyway. I was still in my twenties when I did what I did.”
“I’m still in my twenties,” Kirsty announced. “Twenty-nine in fact.”
Maureen rolled her eyes in a ‘doesn’t really count’ kind of way and smiled at Tabby, who was still quiet.
“So, what was it?” Kirsty seemed to be pushing it a little but there was intrigue for Tabby also.
“I had a great body back then, you understand. None of the soft covering of my duvet body you see before you now. So I did some pole dancing to make ends meet. And, well, I didn’t stick to the poles.” Her mouth folded in a tight smile as if to say, ‘there, I’ve told you and I’m not proud.’
“And what was the bother, then? Plenty of women do stuff like that, particularly students at uni.”
“The crowd I worked for. They weren’t the sweetest of individuals and could be pushy. I’m a strong-minded woman and didn’t appreciate being told what I could and couldn’t do so when things got a bit heated one day and one of them took a swing at me, I defended myself. He smacked a couple of my teeth out so I stuck my penknife in his groin. It was a shame I missed his main artery – the pig.”
That shut the two women up and the cab fell quiet for a time as they processed the scenario.
“I’m guessing he lived?” from Kirsty.
“Yes, he did. But I had to leave town in a hurry so I’ve spent a bit of time on the run I suppose you could say. At least there was no prison time. I dare say if I’d killed him, it would have been a different outcome. And I went straight from then on. No more toilet walls or car seats for me.”
“How long did you survive? On the run, I mean?” asked Tabby. Maureen looked across at her and for a moment Tabby felt like the woman was searching inside her soul. Could Maureen sense she too was on the run? Had she noticed the signs?
“All of a month. I remember being both terrified and thrilled all at the same time, but I was low on funds and wasn’t about to go back to selling myself. My options were limited and well, after the initial thrill and excitement, I figured I should head back home and start again. So back to Leeds I went – that was one hell of a culture shock after what I’d been doing in Paris, let me tell you!” Maureen’s laugh sounded like she’d smoked far too many unfiltered cigarettes in her time, and the rough gravelly sound finished with a throat-clearing cough.
“And did you settle in? At Leeds, I mean?”
“We all adjust to our surroundings easier than we think we might and before long, it was as if I’d always been there. Take your old slippers. They were new once, felt a little stiff for a while, but a week later, they fit your feet perfectly. Life isn’t much different really.”
Tabby thought about that. Had she had enough of life sleeping in lumpy beds and missing out on proper meals and hot showers? And for what? A crazy notion that she could be someone else for a while, take another woman’s identity and do her own thing, be someone more exciting? And how was that working out?
But her old life held no appeal.
No, if she ever went back, it would be for a different life. It had to be, for her own sanity.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Maureen’s words were still ringing in her ears as they approached yet another backpackers’ accommodation. Tabby hoped the water would be hot and the bed soft. How difficult could it be?
“She was a hard case, wasn’t she?” Kirsty said as they headed through the main entrance and pressed the buzzer at the tiny reception area. A wooden interior that had been stained somewhere between dark oak and rotting tree bark, it felt like a dungeon before they’d even got both feet inside. An older woman, who wore an old-fashioned housedress apron and was almost bent double, shuffled into the tiny room and did her best to look up at them both. The act looked awkward, but her voice was strong and clear.
“Bonjour.”
The girls greeted her back and Kirsty ordered two bunks for one night only. Until they’d sampled the accommodation, there was little point in committing themselves. Tabby knew she’d be staying, come what may. There was little choice. Kirsty might feel comfortable crashing on a stranger’s sofa, but that was not on Tabby’s agenda. Not until she got desperate. After each had paid for their own bed, Tabby announced she was taking a shower and then would be off job hunting. There must be at least one café that required some casual labour and didn’t mind paying cash in hand. Since she only had a passport and credit card, and didn’t have any of Tabitha Child’s documents with tax details on, working legitimately was not an option. There was time to figure that out later. But right now, she needed an income.
“Great, good idea. You go first, and I’ll follow.” The two girls headed towards their allocated dorm-style room and threw themselves down on their bunks to test them. To Tabby’s surprise and delight, hers was considerably more comfortable than anything she’d occupied previously – since she’d started with her new life anyw
ay. She closed her eyes and was tempted to take a nap but sat straight back up again. If she was going to get earning, it wasn’t going to happen lying on her back. Tabby smiled at her own words: many women, Maureen included, had indeed earned their keep from lying on their backs, though it wasn’t something she could see herself doing. She thought about Maureen’s tale of woe earlier, and how the woman had ended up stabbing her boss in the groin. Why had she had a penknife on her at that time? Tabby wondered. Did she carry it all the time? Should Tabby get one herself, for self-defence? Perhaps when she’d got an income. It seemed sensible. Grabbing a few toiletries and clothes from her bag, Tabby said she could be taking a long shower if it was as good as the bed.
“Take your time,” called Kirsty, settling back on her own bunk. “I might be asleep when you get back, I’m as tired as you are.” And Tabby was gone.
As soon as the coast was clear, Kirsty wriggled off her bunk and moved straight for Tabby’s bag. Keeping an eye on the door in case her friend had forgotten something and came back, she deftly rummaged with one hand until she found what she was looking for. With the wallet in her hand, she scurried back to her own bed to examine the contents, ready at a moment’s notice to stuff it rapidly under her pillow if the need arose. The sound of water running told her Tabby was now otherwise occupied.
Kirsty checked how much cash it contained and then examined the rest of the contents. Inside the zipped-up change pouch was a gold bracelet and Kirsty felt the weight of it in her hand. It would have cost a fortune. Turning it over, she strained to read the inscription: Susan and Melanie Marchment. Forever always. She tossed it back inside. There were two credit cards, both in the name of Tabitha Child, and apart from a couple of other loyalty cards, there was nothing else of interest. But either credit card was. Kirsty sat thoughtful for a moment. A woman hitchhiking through France on her own, with a story to tell, wouldn’t necessarily travel with credit cards, that she’s not using. She’d carry more cash. In Kirsty’s mind, that answered one of the questions she had about her new friend: she wasn’t on the run from the law.
“Maybe she’s on some sort of digital detox or something,” she said under her breath. “Living on as few basics as possible. Another bored snowflake trying to ‘find herself’. Give me strength,” she finished, shaking her head in disappointment. Kirsty slipped the wallet back into Tabby’s bag, but only after she’d removed one of the credit cards. The signature on the back looked simple enough, a ‘T’ and ‘Child’. It couldn’t have been any easier. And if the transactions were low enough, she might not even need that. Hopefully, by the time Tabby realised there were charges other than her own, she’d be back home, her boring life resumed. Kirsty smiled at her own idea. If Tabby was refraining from using the card, she’d have no reason to suspect anything was amiss. But who were Susan and Melanie Marchment? They sounded like lovers.
On impulse, she slipped out of their room and headed swiftly towards the town centre. Her plan was simple: a decent meal. If that went without a hitch, there’d be a purchase for herself, something she could hide easily under her own clothes if she needed to, until she was back in the safety of the shower room. There was no need for Tabby to know.
Finding the card was a godsend. It meant that, given the opportunity, Kirsty now had access to funds for small luxuries, like fresh undies and a burger here and there, all without spending a penny of her own. For her first outing, she didn’t have much time to spare so she slipped inside the first café she came to and placed her order: a simple steak and fries.
“May I pay now? Only I’m in a bit of a rush,” she explained to the young waiter. There was no attempt at even the tiniest bit of French, but it wasn’t a problem. He understood perfectly.
“Certainly,” he said, and presented her with a mobile payment machine. Kirsty tapped the card and waited, not daring to breathe. It couldn’t have gone any better. There was no need for a PIN or signature. Knowing it worked, there was no need to be greedy all in one day. Tomorrow, there would be some alone time she could make productive use of.
Kirsty could never have known just what she’d started rolling in the background.
Chapter Sixty-Four
The train from Calais to Paris was as crowded as any other commuter train headed into a major city for morning rush hour. Chrissy and Julie managed to get a seat each and, with the journey being long enough, Chrissy was glad of being able to rest a little, having hardly slept the night before. There was nothing more she could do now until they got to their destination. But her nerves felt like sharp razor blades in her body and the caffeine she’d consumed was already making her jingle. If she fell asleep for an hour, she knew she’d feel worse when she woke up.
Detective Alan Davies had not mentioned anything other than picking up a package and the name of the person to ask for. She hoped the man would be on duty. It was a long way to come to be refused what they were so anxious to see the contents of. Chrissy glanced across at Julie who was artfully putting on her make-up. A natural beauty, she attracted glances from various men as she applied pink to her beautifully shaped lips. Chrissy smiled inwardly. Wearing more casual make-up than usual actually made her sister look more youthful and less formal, less rigid, if that was the right word. Perhaps Chrissy could encourage her to relax a little more before they headed home. Subconsciously she rubbed her own lips together. They needed moisturising.
By the time they arrived at Gare du Nord the place was heaving. Commuters from all parts of France were descending on the one spot. Chrissy helped her sister pull her bag off the train and they headed to find a place where they could store it for the day – until they knew what their plans were. They could well be staying in town overnight or they might find themselves moving on to somewhere else, following the trail that the next clue gave them. She made a mental note to ring Adam later. She hadn’t spoken to him for a day or two, only exchanged texts, and she was missing both him and the boys. If she was staying away much longer, she’d have to make plans for her boys back home. She couldn’t just leave them all to fend for themselves. Since Adam had a stressful job too, she needed to make sure she pulled her own weight, even if she was absent. She hoped they were eating healthily and not living on junk food.
After dropping the bag at ‘left luggage’ they headed out towards the taxi rank and joined the queue, which, thankfully, was moving relatively fast. When their turn finally arrived, she gave the taxi driver the address of the hotel and they both sat back to watch the streets of Paris fly by the window. It was non-stop hustle and bustle, and Chrissy admired how the local women dressed stylishly no matter where they were going for the day. Smart yet relaxed, not rigid navy as many of their British counterparts would have been, they looked glamorous, tanned, and in good shape.
It wasn’t far to the hotel and as Julie paid the driver, Chrissy stood on the pavement and took in the surroundings. It was an older part of town and the architecture was beautiful, like many of the European cities she’d visited. The Eiffel Tower stood majestically in the near distance – not that there would be time for sightseeing. They were on a mission and the longer they left it, the further away Susan Smith was likely to be. Whatever was in the package to be picked up, Chrissy hoped it would provide another clue as to what had happened and where Susan was headed. They’d both assumed that she had simply been going on a shopping trip while Marcus was away, but they had no evidence that that was indeed the case. It was only an assumption. Perhaps she’d been attending to something else and that something had led her to run. There was so much they didn’t know.
Chrissy glanced at her watch and hoped the person they needed was on duty already and that there wouldn’t be any fuss handing the package over. As the taxi pulled away and Julie joined Chrissy on the pavement, she turned to her sister and said, “We need to find the ladies room first so you can work some of your make-up magic on me and I don’t look like your ugly sister,” Chrissy said with a half-smile.
“You don’t look lik
e my ugly sister, you look like my sister and you’re beautiful just like I am,” she said, fluttering eyelashes comically. Chrissy had played many parts in her time and spoke French perfectly, but the glamour side she didn’t possess. They needed that package so she was going to have to turn on the charm tenfold.
In the ladies room, Julie took out a hairbrush and handed it to Chrissy so she could pull her hair into better shape. If she was going to be a flirty, Parisian-looking lady with a somewhat English accent, there was work to do. Having earlier found the largest garment she could from Julie’s bag, she now dressed somewhat more smartly than she had for the journey down. Being more accustomed to cotton trousers and a T-shirt, she felt claustrophobic in the rather formal dress.
“Don’t put too much make-up on, I don’t want to look like a clown,” Chrissy had said before Julie had even started applying the light foundation to her face.
“I know what I’m doing, sweetie,” she said. “I do my own every day and I look nice, don’t I?”
“I’m just saying.”
“It would have been easier if I’d just done the acting part,” Julie said. “Then you wouldn’t need to feel so uncomfortable. I can see already that you hate it.”
“But you don’t speak French,” Chrissy said.
“I don’t need French to get what I need when I’ve got eyelashes like these,” Julie said adamantly, demonstrating that they were in fact perfect.
“We can’t take any chances. We’re in France and he’s expecting someone French-speaking, and that’s me.” Chrissy was matter of fact; she didn’t want to mess this up, it was too important.
“Still, my lashes might come in useful as a fall-back plan.”
Chrissy left the comment as the last word to Julie. It wasn’t worth bugging her for.