by Susan Lewis
‘You’ve spoken to her?’
‘I took the liberty of using my position with the force to ask if she’d be willing to talk about John Victor, and she said she’d be happy to, but she doesn’t know any more than she told the inquest.’
‘People always know more than they think,’ Andee murmured. ‘You’re a star, Leo. Thanks very much. Will you text me her number and the address?’
‘Sure. On its way. I told her you’re a relative of Victor’s, by the way.’
Andee couldn’t object to the truth, much as she disliked it. She waited for Ally Jackson’s address and phone number to come through and called right away. ‘Hello,’ she said to a voicemail, ‘this is Andee Lawrence. I believe Leo Johnson told you I’d be calling. I’d be grateful if you could get back to me so we can set up a time to meet.’
As she was ringing off Graeme’s phone vibrated again. Not a text, a call from Nadia. Andee’s eyes went to her mother. She couldn’t answer it, she had no right to. All she could do was wait to see how long it took Graeme to get back to her, which turned out to be almost immediately after he brought the drinks.
‘I’ll just be a minute,’ he said, and taking the phone out of earshot he left Andee and Maureen wondering why he always seemed to have to speak to Nadia in private.
Whatever the reason, it was plain when he returned that he was worried or upset, possibly even angry. ‘Apparently half the tradesmen have walked off the job,’ he informed them.
‘Why?’ Maureen asked, confused.
‘Nadia is not a project manager,’ he replied, meaning, Andee suspected, that Nadia had managed to upset them all. ‘I’ll have to go back, or heaven only knows what sort of mess it’ll end up in.’
Andee said, ‘You should be able to get a flight in the morning. I’ll drive you to the airport if you like.’
‘Thanks. I’m sorry, but right now I think I’m needed a lot more there than I am here.’
Andee didn’t correct him. How could she, when it appeared to be true?
It turned out that Ally Jackson’s home was indeed close to Hammersmith’s River Café, and since she’d told Andee there would be somewhere for her to park Andee had driven straight there after dropping Graeme at the airport.
‘You’re not letting me down,’ she’d assured him as he got out of the car. ‘It’s just that your priorities are different right now, and I understand that. You can’t put this project into any further jeopardy.’
It was true, he couldn’t, and because she knew he wasn’t deceitful or in anyway uncaring of what was happening in her world, she really did believe there were problems in France. She only wished she’d been able to go with him to help sort them out. Their first big project together and she was the one letting him down.
Pulling into the small forecourt that had once been a garden at the address Ally Jackson had given her, she closed the sunroof and turned off the engine. It was a humid, overcast day, the kind of weather that sapped energy and made everything seem flat and lifeless. However, the hanging basket next to the house number was as lively as an artist’s palette, and the front door itself was a cheery cobalt blue.
‘You must be Andee Lawrence,’ a slender, middle-aged woman greeted her warmly on answering Andee’s knock. ‘You found it all right. I’m Ally, please come in.’
Andee followed her along a beige-carpeted hallway, past a post and bar staircase cluttered with shoes and toys, and into a large, airy kitchen with three skylights in the ceiling, a set of bifold doors opening on to a small square garden, and a range of wall and base units that were clearly as expensive as they were artfully designed.
‘I’ve made coffee,’ Ally told her, her large, dimpled face and cat’s-eye glasses making her appear both maternal and lawyerly, ‘but have you had any lunch? I can easily set up a cold plate. We’ve plenty of ham and cheese.’
‘I’m fine,’ Andee told her, ‘but thank you. And thanks for agreeing to see me.’
‘I’m happy to help in any way I can,’ Ally assured her, waving her to a leather and stainless steel chair at a matching table, where her computer and a stack of files were taking up most of the space. ‘I’m working from home today,’ she explained, quickly pushing everything to one side, ‘and the kids are with my sister in Kew, so we shouldn’t be disturbed. Having said that, I’m afraid I didn’t know your uncle all that well, and it was quite a long time ago. Do you take milk and sugar?’
‘Just milk, thank you. You were his neighbour, I believe?’
‘For about a year. We were across the landing from each other, but we kept quite different hours. If you’re wondering how I managed to afford to live in Shepherd Market, my place was a tiny studio that my parents paid the rent on while I finished my studies.’ Bringing the coffee to the table, she sat down too. ‘His flat was much bigger; two bedrooms, might even have been three, but he was hardly ever there. Weeks on end would go by without any sign of him. I’ve no idea where he went, he never said and I didn’t feel it was my place to ask.’
‘Did he have any visitors when he was there? Or even when he wasn’t?’
Ally shook her head. ‘Not that I can remember.’
‘Do the names Penny or Michelle ring any bells for you?’
Again Ally shook her head.
‘OK, at the inquest you talked about how edgy and anxious he seemed during the weeks before he died. So presumably he was spending more time at the flat then?’
‘Yes, he was.’
‘Alone?’
‘As far as I knew.’
‘Did he ever tell you why he was worried?’
‘No, but he definitely was. I told him, you can’t keep coming over here banging on about how someone’s out to get you and not tell me who. It was like he was turning paranoid, he kept saying things like I saw her, I know it was her, or, she’s doing this to freak me out.’
‘It was always “she”?’
Ally frowned. ‘I’m pretty sure it was.’
‘Did you ever see anyone yourself?’
‘No. The street was always empty when I looked out. Or empty of anyone who seemed interested in him.’
‘He mentioned children? Or kids.’
‘More than once, but that was it. “It’s about the kids,” he’d say. Obviously, I asked him what kids, but it was like he didn’t even hear me. He was in another world, another zone.’
‘The last time you saw him …’
‘He was getting into a car right below his apartment. The man with him was tall, white hair, glasses, but it was dark so I didn’t get a very good look.’
‘Was he forced into the car?’
‘It didn’t look like it. In fact, I forgot all about it until the call came a week or so later to say his body had been found. It really threw me, I can tell you. I liked him. I had no reason not to.’ Her eyes drifted to the garden, and after a while she said, ‘There’s something I told the police after the inquest. It only came back to me then. I don’t know if they did anything about it. To be honest, I’m not sure if there was anything they could do, it was so vague.’
Andee waited.
‘I remembered that a couple of days before he went off in the car, he said he’d heard from … I think he said Sven, but I can’t be certain, which is probably why the police ignored it.’
Sven. It was the name of the man Penny claimed had rescued her.
Allowing a moment to pass, Andee said, ‘I met with someone the other day, a detective who was at the inquest. Gerry Trowbridge? Do you remember him?’
‘Yes, kind of. He came to see me a couple of weeks after. He wanted to know if John had ever talked about someone called … Penny? You just mentioned that name. Who is she?’
‘Someone John Victor used to know,’ Andee replied blandly. ‘Gerry Trowbridge said you showed him something …’
‘Oh yes, I did. It was odd, or I thought it was. A bit creepy actually, considering what it said. I found it when I packed up John’s stuff. No one else came to do it so the lan
dlord asked me to clear the place so he could rerent it. Anyway, an envelope fell out of one of the books … I still have it, in fact I can show you.’
Amazed, and quietly intrigued, Andee said, ‘That would be lovely.’
A few minutes later Ally was back from upstairs carrying an old box file from which she produced a heap of wedding invitations, funeral service leaflets, photographs, ticket stubs, newspaper cuttings – all obviously things from over the years that she’d decided to keep and didn’t know what else to do with. Eventually she pulled out a worn white envelope with John Victor’s name and a Shepherd Market address on the front, and a London postmark dated, Andee noted, about a fortnight before John Victor’s body had been found.
‘That’s all that was in there,’ Ally said as Andee took out a single yellowing page and unfolded it. ‘Whether it came with a letter, or something else …’
Andee read the typeset lines, several of which had been underlined in ink. She frowned. She knew these words … She couldn’t say from where at this moment, but it would come to her …
‘It looks like a page from a book,’ Ally commented.
Andee swallowed dryly. It was indeed, and as she realised which book, her heart started to pound. ‘Can I … Is it possible to take a copy?’ she asked.
‘Of course. Or you can have it if you like. I’ve no idea what I’m going to do with it.’
Putting the page back into the envelope, Andee got to her feet. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘you’ve been incredibly helpful.’
Appearing doubtful, Ally walked with her to the door. ‘If you think I can be of any more help feel free to call,’ she insisted, as Andee got into her car.
With a wave of further thanks Andee reversed out of the forecourt and turned towards the Hammersmith roundabout. Once there she took the A4 in the direction of central London and called Penny on her hands-free. The ringtone was British, telling her that Penny was at least in the country.
‘Well, here’s a surprise,’ Penny drawled as she answered.
‘I know what you took of mine when you left,’ Andee told her.
Penny laughed.
‘Are you in London?’ Andee asked.
‘I am.’
‘I’ll meet you at the Forty One hotel in an hour.’
Maureen had no idea that she was being followed around Waitrose, no sense at all of someone watching what she was putting into her trolley, or examining and replacing on a shelf. If the truth were told she was barely aware of where she was or what she was doing. She’d forgotten to bring her shopping list so she was picking goods at random, the kind of things she usually got, and some she’d never bought before.
She was thinking about Penny, seeing her not as she’d been during that terrible scene just over a week ago, with that awful look in her eyes, but as a small child, toddling along in front of the trolley, turning now and again to make sure her mother was still behind her.
Once she’d thought she was lost and Maureen and Andee had watched her looking around slowly, until she’d spotted another woman with a small girl and a trolley and had gone to join them.
How they’d laughed about it with the woman, and later with David.
Penny had done it again the next time they were out, and the next and the next. She’d just go off and join other families, looking for all the world as though she’d be happy to stay with them.
It was as if, Maureen was thinking now, she’d been testing her mother, wanting to find out if she would always come and get her.
When Penny was older she’d started telling stories of how she’d got lost, aged three, and the police had found her just as a creepy man was trying to force her into his car.
It had never happened.
Nor had Penny been one of twins, the other having apparently died at birth.
She’d never appeared on TV, or fallen overboard when they were on a ferry to France, or been made to stay in her room for a whole week without anything to eat or drink.
They used to call them Penny’s tall tales.
This wasn’t how Maureen could describe the monstrous lies Penny had told about her father and grandfather. Those vile accusations were nothing short of evil. And to say that she, Maureen, had stood by and let it happen … It was so shocking and so cruel that Maureen was still reeling from the horror of it.
What was the matter with Penny? She knew she was lying, and she knew that her mother knew it, so what was making her want to cause so much terrible pain?
She was in the car park by now, taking out her phone to read a text from Andee while loading her shopping into the back of the car.
Will call later to update you on things, but am now in central London waiting to talk to P. Did you find your glasses? Ax
Maureen’s heart sank at the reminder. She’d searched high and low for her glasses earlier and still had no idea where she’d put them. It was just as well she had a backup pair, which she’d had no trouble tracking down in the drawer next to her bed, or she wouldn’t have been able to leave the house.
She texted back, I’ve invited Blake and Jenny for supper. What time should we expect you?
Receiving no immediate reply, she popped the phone back in her pocket and was about to close the boot when she became aware of someone standing beside her.
With a jolt of alarm she quickly stepped back, ready to hand over her purse, or her shopping, whatever he wanted.
‘It’s OK, I’m not going to hurt you,’ he said softly.
Maureen stared at him. His eyes were a summer-sky blue, his features handsome and intense … It was the boy who’d claimed to be Penny’s son. She felt a rush of panicked emotion. ‘What do you want?’ she asked shakily.
‘Please don’t be scared,’ he said. ‘I just need Andee to call this number.’ He was handing her a slip of paper.
Maureen barely glanced at it. ‘Why don’t you call her?’ she demanded. ‘I can give you her mobile …’
‘Please, just ask her to be in touch with this person. He’ll explain everything.’
‘Who is it? You need to tell me who it is?’
‘His name is Sven. Tell her not to mention anything about this to Mich—Penny.’
As he hurried away Maureen called after him, ‘Please wait.’
A blue Mini paused for him to get in and drove out of the car park. To Maureen’s astonishment another car went after it, at speed, and both vehicles disappeared over the Kester bridge with horns blaring furiously all round them.
Maureen tried to pull herself together. There must be more she could do. She’d noticed a girl was driving the Mini, and that the registration number ended in VRT. She needed to write that down. She could remember nothing about the other car, apart from the fact it was white.
Quickly slamming shut the boot of her own car, she got into the driver’s seat and rummaged around in her handbag for a pen. Not finding one, she decided to text what she could remember to Andee.
Girl. Blue Mini. VRT.
After giving herself a minute, she began driving slowly out of the car park, knowing there was something else she should do, but unable to think what it was. Her thoughts were all over the place, fragmenting and reforming into images and words that seemed almost meaningless.
For a moment she forgot where she was. She recognised nothing around her and had no idea where she was going.
Fear blossomed like a flame.
Her mind cleared and she drove on towards home, aware that her heart was racing and a cool sweat was breaking on her skin. How had the boy known where to find her? Why wouldn’t he call Andee himself? What on earth was going on between him and his mother?
How could Penny have said those terrible things about her father?
Sickened all over again by the wickedness of the words, Maureen forced them from her mind and kept going.
On reaching home she took the shopping inside and set about making a cup of tea. She was focusing on the scene in the car park, and realising the boy had an unusual accent. It was
American, but there was something else too. French, maybe? Or Italian?
Had the other car caught up with him?
Someone was texting her. Taking out her phone she saw it was Andee.
This could take a while. Will let you know asap.
What could take a while?
Realising she must tell Andee what had happened at Waitrose, she was about to text her back when she remembered the boy had given her a number for Andee to call.
Where was it?
What had she done with the slip of paper?
She rapidly checked her pockets, her handbag and purse, the shopping bags, the floor in case she’d dropped it on the way in.
No sign of it.
Rushing out to the car she searched the front seats, back seats and boot.
‘Oh no,’ she gasped wretchedly. She must have dropped it in the car park. How on earth was she ever going to find it?
Chapter Twelve
Andee might have guessed that Penny would keep her waiting, but two and a half hours with no text, no call, nothing at all to excuse or explain the delay, or even to confirm that she was on her way?
Maybe she wasn’t coming.
It was clearly a power trip to show who was in charge, which might have irritated Andee had she not been filling the time so usefully – and in such luxury.
Her sister certainly knew how to pick her hotels. This, at Forty One Buckingham Palace Road, was about as exclusive as they came. With Her Majesty as a very close neighbour, it was for residents only. No passing members of the public were encouraged to enter, indeed there was no way of getting past the concierge unless you were expected. Penny, it seemed, had given instructions for her sister to be allowed in. She’d then been escorted to the Executive Lounge on the fifth floor, welcomed with the offer of a glass of expensive champagne, which she’d politely declined, served tea, given the Wi-Fi code and was now seated in a cosy niche in front of a grand fireplace in what could almost be a private sitting room.