Check Mate

by Caron Allan

  But—and I’m really annoyed about this—still absolutely nothing from that dratted Clive and his family. You’d think they would be over the moon to know Lill was recovering, and yet they have not responded to any of the texts or voicemail messages left by any of their family. Nothing has been heard from any of them for two days! You’d think they could at least show a bit of interest in Lill’s welfare even if they can’t be bothered to be civil to the rest of us. I mean, I know I said they were probably tired after the journey, but this is getting ridiculous!

  Not that I said any of this to Matt or Sid or Lill for that matter. I just tried to reassure them by saying no doubt the Clive-clan will be in contact in the morning, bright and fresh. At the moment I just want the others to rest and recover after the worry and long hours of sitting by Lill’s bed for four days more or less straight, and two more days of regular visiting.

  But I’ve got half a mind to go to the hotel and bang on the Clive-clan’s door and demand to know what in the name of almighty God they think they are playing at! Who do they think they are, just ignoring their worried family? In fact, yes I will. I’ll go to the hotel early tomorrow morning, after dropping the children off at school, and surprise them, and hopefully make them see the error of their ways. I just can’t understand why they’d come all this way then not show any concern…what selfishness! I know I didn’t take to Smarmy Clive or his drippy wife and self-absorbed teenagers but I really never expected them to act as badly as this.

  Tuesday September 22nd—2.15pm

  They have done a bunk!

  At least, I can’t see any other explanation for it. I took a detour to the hotel as planned. I was in and out in less than fifteen minutes.

  Hoisting Tom out of his special seat and sticking him on my hip, we went to reception. There was an attractive young woman on duty and I asked what room Mr and Mrs Hopkins were in. I was all riled up and prepared for a heated debate with Matt’s brother but the wind pretty much went out of my sails when the receptionist said, “Mr and Mrs Hopkins? Well they were in room 302. But it appears they checked out on Saturday.”

  My customary poise deserted me. “What?” Then I added, “What do you mean, it appears they checked out on Saturday? Don’t you know?” It came out a little more confrontational-sounding than I intended.

  She flushed with the effort of trying to remain polite. She went posh on me.

  “I’m sorry, madam, we are not quaite sure when they left our hestablishment.”

  “Did they leave a forwarding address?”

  She shook her head, lips pressed together as tightly as a spinster’s knees. I glared at her.

  “None of that client confidentiality crap,” I said, “Mr Hopkins’ mother has been seriously ill in hospital, that’s why they’re here. And today is the first time she’s been able to talk in a week. We need to let them know she is out of danger.” Slight exaggeration, but only slightly.

  She put a hand out, all poshness spent. “No, love, honestly, look if I had an inkling where they went I’d tell you. They buggered off without paying, stripped the room and everything.”

  “What!”

  By the time I got to the hospital I was fairly seething. Tom had fallen asleep in the car, so I had to take him and the whole babyseat with me, and between them they weighed a ton! As I hurried along the corridor to Lill’s floor, I told myself perhaps I was getting worked up over nothing. But I had seen the empty room—the really, really empty room—they had taken everything including the complimentary kettle and biscuits, the towels, the linens, even the lamps and the loo rolls. Even the lightbulbs in the main lights. Even the metal hangers from the cupboards. Even…I had had to pay for everything, £675 for the hotel room and £200 for all the things that had been stolen. I could have declined to pay, of course, but then, as the manager had pointed out, they would be obliged to report the matter to the police. By the time I got to the hospital, I was beginning to think I should have let them do just that, though at the time I had been thinking that Sid and Matt had enough to worry about with Lill.

  But I told myself it didn’t necessarily mean anything serious—I mean, look at their gene-pool, I told myself—look at Sid’s dodgy skills and the fact that Matt had been imprisoned for Fraud. And everyone, so I told myself, nicks the odd shower gel from hotels. Not me of course, I hate that cheap nasty stuff, but other people do. Or so I’ve been told. And obviously someone from the Hopkins family tree is far more likely to nick a bit more than most. So…

  I greeted Lill with a kiss on the cheek and told her, perfectly truthfully, that she looked fabulous. She stroked Tom’s cheek, but he didn’t stir. I plonked his chair down on the floor and sank into the seat at Lill’s bedside. I only hoped she wouldn’t ask if I’d tracked down her first-born and his family.

  “Has Sid or Matt heard from Clive, do you know?” she immediately asked. I gave a little smile.

  “Um. Ooh I don’t know. Um, I think we’d just missed them.”

  She wasn’t fooled for a moment. She gave me a straight look and said, “Hmm, well. Clive’s not like the others. I know you shouldn’t speak ill of your own children, but it’s the truth. I love him, of course I do, but he’s a dodgy bloke. Not like Sid and Matt. They’re a bit dodgy, I suppose, which is why my mother never wanted me to marry Sid in the first place, ‘he’ll leave you crying,’ she said. But I know he and Matt would never do anything to one of their own. Sid’s never let me down, not really, he’s always done his best. No nastiness about him, you know, or Matt. Matt’s the proverbial chip off the old block. You can trust them both with your life and your last penny. But not our Clive, I’m sorry to say. He’d have the gold filling out of your teeth if he caught you napping.”

  I said nothing. The sister bustled over and told me I shouldn’t be there. Apparently it was outside hours, and now Lill was off the critical list, we were required to stick to official visiting times. I apologised and kissed Lill goodbye, promising to pop back later. She asked me to bring her in a book from her bedside table, and some tissues and her toiletries. I promised I would send them in at 3pm. As I got up to go, I said, “I’m sure everything’s all right, don’t worry about Clive.”

  She gave me a look that told me she knew her son. I waggled my fingers in farewell and meekly followed the sister out.

  “Can I bring the children in later? They’ll be as good as gold, and they haven’t got any colds or anything,” I said. She smiled down at Tom and stroked his hair. “If they’re as good as this little one,” she said, “that won’t be a problem.”

  I went back to the car. I knew Lill would be pleased to see the children. Though she’d probably like me to take the cats in too. Somehow I didn’t see the staff letting me do that.

  I had a message from Matt: “R U OK?”

  I rang home. He picked up immediately. “What’s wrong?” he gasped.

  “Nothing. I just wanted to let you know everything’s fine. I went to see your mum after taking the children to school. But they chucked me out—we’re back to visiting times only. So it’s 3pm or 7pm.”

  “Oh, okay, I’ll tell Dad. Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “You needed your sleep. You’ve been through such a stressful time. And Sid too, for that matter. I hope he slept in? The children were as quiet as little mice this morning, so I was able to get them ready for school and out without waking you. Anyway, I’m on my way home. Be there in twenty minutes. Um, have you heard anything from Clive yet?” I asked oh-so-casually.

  He said “No,” in terse voice. Ah.

  “Well, see you soon.” I said gaily and ended the call before he could say anything more.

  I suppose it was inevitable that Matt and Sid would be waiting for me when I got back. Before I’d even got Tom out of his car seat and onto his play-mat, they were there, cup of tea in one hand, thumbscrews metaphorically in the other.

  So I told them about my little trip to the hotel. And about the ransacked room, and the massive bill I’d paid. Nee
dless to say, quite a few expletives flew through the air, then Sid went to the hotel to see if he could find out any more and Matt rang Leanne. She seemed just as astonished as he was. To add to my dismay she insisted on coming up to the house. It’s such a pain having her living so close by.

  But she couldn’t add anything to what we already knew. And when Sid got back an hour later, he had nothing to report either. It seems the hotel’s CCTV only covered the front door and the car park. Clearly Clive had been clever enough to avoid both.

  Jacqueline arrived, teary with joy at hearing that Lill was out of danger and could even be coming home in a few days. She set to in the kitchen and produced a couple of batches of muffins and cookies, bless the child. She’s not as good a cook as Lill, obviously, but taking her age and experience into account, she’s doing a pretty good job. I have to say she’s growing on me, I don’t detest her nearly as much as I used to. All I need to do now is to stop her sniffing every two seconds and get her out of the ghastly habit of calling herself Zhakleen, and she and I could almost be friends. Well, acquaintances. Let’s not go mad.

  So the four of us sat at the kitchen table and had a little conference. The thefts and sneaking out of the hotel could only mean one thing, we decided.

  “Money worries,” said Sid. “Nothing else makes people disappear in the night like that.”

  He had to be right. What other explanation could there be? And having agreed on that, what else could we say? We had no contact details for any of Clive’s family apart from the mobile number he was ignoring. We had no information apart from their address in the Cayman Islands, and we had no way of knowing if it was still current, or even if it was their own home or a rental property. If there were financial difficulties, who knew where they had been living prior to arriving in Britain a few days ago?

  “The kids didn’t say a word,” Leanne said, “It was all I could do to get them to tell me if they wanted a drink or anything to eat. When Clive picked them up, he didn’t bother coming in, just beeped the horn. I don’t know what kind of car it was, something big and black. By the time I’d got my shoes on and gone outside, they were driving off. They didn’t even wave,” she added, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I know we’ve never been close, but he’s my big brother, and I haven’t seen him for eight years. You’d think he could at least…”

  “He’s never bothered with birthdays or Christmas cards,” Matt said, giving his sister a hug. I felt almost sorry for her. I handed her a wodge of tissues.

  “Never even sent your mum so much as a Mother’s Day card.” Sid agreed. He was looking grey and tired again, and it broke my heart to see him looking so old and bowed down. I feared what this new stress might do to his already-suspect blood pressure. I patted his hand. If only I could set his mind at rest. It would be great to be able to come up with something useful to calm everyone and see those deep lines around his mouth and eyes soften. He put his bear-paw on mine and gave me a little smile.

  “Don’t you have a mate who can hack into security cameras and see if they’ve left the country?” I asked. For a moment he brightened.

  “I have,” he agreed. Then his countenance fell. “Mind you, they could be using fake passports. Then we’d probably never find them.”

  “But it would be a start,” I suggested. “They’ve only been here a couple of days, they’d have to be going some to get fake ID set up in that short time. Or there’s motorway security cameras; they might still be in this country, just lying low. Where did they live before they went overseas? Where was what’s-her-name from?”

  Sid was on his feet, fishing his phone out of his pocket and tapping the screen as he went into the hall. We heard the low growl of his voice.

  A snuffle from my left made me aware that Leanne was still having a little cry. She was dabbing ineffectually at her eyes. Time to give her a little pat, too

  To my surprise, she collapsed onto my shoulder and sobbed. Matt and I exchanged a look. Even he was not looking his usual gorgeous self but looked a bit frazzled round the edges. I sighed and patted Leanne’s back, and managed to insert a fresh handful of tissues between her nose and my cashmere cardigan. With families, as with history, it seems that it is just one damned thing after another.

  Eventually she quieted and sat back, scrubbing at her face with Kleenex, full of the usual embarrassment and apologies. I assured her with perfect sincerity that it didn’t matter a bit. She went to splash some water on her face in the bathroom. Matt and I were alone.

  “Didn’t your brother give you any hint that something was wrong?”

  He shook his head. “No, but that’s not very surprising. Mum and Dad and Leanne won’t know this, but Clive’s been sailing very close to the wind for years. Got in with some dodgy people. Bad people. Clive’s not what you might call a straight-and-narrow kind of bloke.”

  “Who is, in your family?” I said without thinking. But he wasn’t offended. He just nodded again.

  “True. But there’s degrees of bad.”

  I kissed his hand as it gripped mine. “You’re not bad. Nor’s Sid.”

  “Nope. Me and me Dad, we’d never do down a mate. And there’s a lot of stuff we’d never do. Never hurt anyone intentionally. Maybe do a bunch of tourists out of a few million, but nothing serious.” He smiled. “But Clive, I don’t know, I’m not sure he would say no to anything…”

  “So what are we talking about here? Overspending and getting into debt? Or,” I looked at him, a little nervous about what it could all mean. “Or something worse?”

  “Worse. Much worse. He starts up businesses and then goes off with the investors’ money. He’s a crafty salesman. He could sell anything to anyone, he’s got that much charm when he wants to. Mind you he hasn’t told me this, it’s just what I’ve worked out from rumours and reading between the lines. And he’s always been a gambler. Horses. Casinos. You name it…” He broke off as Leanne and Sid both reappeared.

  “That’s it then,” said Sid. “If they’ve left the country under their own names, we’ll soon know about it. And if my mate can get their photos off the arrivals CCTV the other day, he can set up a search on the departures, even if they haven’t used their own names. And he knows a bloke as can check the CCTVs on motorways like what you suggested, Cressida. Then there’s another bloke can find out about debts and credit ratings overseas, so one way or another, I reckon we’ll know a lot more in a few days.”

  “But Clive will probably have turned up by then,” Leanne, ever the optimist, said. “He’ll feel bad about running out on us and not seeing Mum, and they’ll come back. He was probably just overtired after the journey and with the worry about Mum and everything. I expect he panicked, and when he’s had a chance to think about it, he’ll come straight back.”

  “Yes. Probably,” Matt said, but without the conviction of his sister.

  And so we wait.

  Later: 11.30pm

  I arrived at the hospital after getting stuck in traffic right outside on the roundabout. It was so frustrating sitting there looking at the object of my journey but not being able to reach it. I seriously considered leaving the car parked in the jam and going inside for my visit—fairly confident nothing would have moved in the time I was away. But I didn’t dare risk it.

  And my mind was still taken up with Clive and his odd disappearance—and his family’s. As I hurried along the corridor to the lift to Lill’s floor, I told myself perhaps it was nothing to worry about. Sometimes people (so I’ve been told) have these tiresome financial glitches. No doubt they’d popped to the bank to sort everything out and I’d probably walk in one day soon to find them sitting devotedly by Lill’s bedside, telling her amusing stories about the children.

  But not today. Only Leanne was sitting with Lill. She was reading a story to Lill from My Midweek Teabreak Stories magazine. Lill was lying back against the white pillows, her eyes closed and looking horrid. Clearly the painkillers weren’t doing their job.

  Leanne was glad
to leave. She kissed her mother on the cheek and left. On her way out, I made a few meal suggestions based on my rather inadequate knowledge of the contents of our freezer.

  When she had gone, I pulled the chair in and sat next to Lill, taking her hand in mine. She opened her eyes. The bright blue of her irises immediately added colour to her washed-out complexion, and it was so reassuring to see her come to life. She looked a little better than I had at first thought.

  We chatted for a few minutes though I had to head her off any potentially upsetting or difficult directions. When she began to tire, I brought out her book, Naked In His Lordship’s Arms and began to read: “Chapter Twelve: What happened to me that night in the stables.”

  I knew Lill was engrossed in the story—along with half the nursing staff—so I made the most of my clear ringing tones and gave it all I’d got. She finally drifted back off to sleep part way into Chapter Thirteen, but in spite of that, and even though my throat was dry and sore, I continued to read to the end of the chapter because I, a radiographer called Sam, and two duty nurses, plus an old woman two beds down, were desperate to find out what happened when Sir Reginald found out what Lady Christobel and the stable boy had got up to.

  Sid came to relieve me just before nine o’clock. I was glad for his sake that Lill was awake again and quite perky, so I slipped out to the tiny patients’ kitchen and made them both a cup of tea, and kissed them both goodnight before heading home absolutely exhausted.

  Matt had made me a pot of tea and some ham and cheese sandwiches.

  “You really wouldn’t of fancied what we had earlier,’ he said. “I do love my sister, but she can’t cook to save her life. Not sure what that was she made earlier, but I’ve had half a packet of Rennies since then.”

  He had apparently had a nap after dinner, once the children had gone to bed, so he was in the mood for some sweet and tender lovin’. I could only hope Sir Reginald wouldn’t find out.