by H. Y. Hanna
Leaving Julia to snuggle under the covers, Leah went back outside. She found Aimee in front of her laptop, updating her blog.
“Can I use the phone?” asked Leah. “My mobile got stolen with my bag at the airport”
“Sure,” said Aimee, swivelling around to look at her. “And that’s terrible about your bag. Did you report it?”
Leah nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t hold out much hope for them catching the thief. To be honest, I’d just be happy if my bag turned up dumped somewhere and I could get some of my things back. If the thief was only after money, then he might have left my passport and other ID. Otherwise, I’m going to have to ring the Passport Office tomorrow and arrange to get an urgent replacement…”
The news from the airport was disappointing. There had been no sign of the thief and her bag hadn’t turned up anywhere. Leah hung up with a sigh, then turned back to Aimee. “Can I hop onto your laptop when you’ve got a moment free?” she asked. “My laptop was in my handbag as well and got stolen too.”
“Sure. Have it now if you like,” Aimee invited, passing the laptop over to Leah.
Leah quickly checked her emails. She told herself that she was just catching up, but she knew that she was really hoping that there might be a message from Toran. Perhaps, if he wasn’t willing to talk to her, he might have sent a written message. But there was nothing. Nothing on Facebook either. Leah wondered if there might’ve been an answerphone message from him on her mobile. She would never know now, unless she got her phone back.
Of course, she could just simply call him from the house phone here, but something in her rebelled against that. Perhaps it was pride, but she was tired of leaving messages that went ignored. She had made it clear enough that she wanted to talk to him. It was up to him now, she decided, to meet her halfway.
The first thing Leah thought of when she woke up was the doll. She shuddered again at the memory of its mutilated body. Logically, she knew that was just someone trying to scare her, but it was still hard not to have an emotional reaction to it. There was just something very creepy about effigies like that. And even though she wasn’t really superstitious and didn’t believe in black magic, there was still that little niggle of uncertainty—the result of hearing too many scary stories of people who had been tortured through the use of hex dolls.
The flat was still dark and, from the weak light peaking in through the curtains, it looked like it was barely dawn. Leah turned over and pulled the blanket up to her chin, closing her eyes and trying to go back to sleep. But she knew that it was a waste of time. She was too awake now and the memory of that doll had brought back all of yesterday’s unease.
Sighing, Leah sat up and rubbed her eyes. She had elected to take the sofa bed so that Julia could be more comfortable—despite her friend’s protests about being treated like an invalid because she was pregnant. Now Leah tiptoed around the flat, so as not to wake her friends. She had a quick shower, then padded into the kitchen in a thick terrycloth dressing gown and slippers. She made herself a cup of coffee, enjoying the familiar routine of going through her old cupboards. She was just about to settle down with Aimee’s laptop and check her emails again when the house phone rang shrilly.
Leah raced to answer it. It was the airport and her heart leapt with delight as she heard the news: they had found her handbag. It had been dumped in another terminal, but thankfully her wallet, with all her ID, was still in it so it had been easy to identify.
“So did they take the money?” Leah asked.
“No.” The airport security officer sounded puzzled. “In fact, as far as I can see, nothing important has been taken. Of course, you’ll need to check when you get it back, but your passport, wallet, credit cards, laptop… pretty much everything seems to be here, based on the report you filed.”
Leah frowned. It made no sense. What had they been after? She was too pleased, though, with the retrieval of the bag to think too much about it at this moment. The airport security officer offered to have it sent to her by courier, to save her a trip back to Heathrow, and Leah readily agreed. She organised a time, thanked him again for his help, and hung up.
“Good news?”
Leah turned around. Julia stood in the open doorway of the spare bedroom, rubbing her eyes. Her black hair was hanging messily around her head and she was belting a velour dressing gown around her waist. It was obviously an expensive, designer label, but faded and worn from the comfort of long use. It was strange not to see her friend as her usual glamorous, perfectly groomed self.
Leah nodded, smiling. “Yes, they found my bag! And everything’s still in it.”
“What—you mean, they didn’t steal anything?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“That’s weird,” said Julia. “Most petty criminals would at least take the cash. Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is something to do with what happened back in Singapore.” She furrowed her brow. “What do you think they were after though? Something they thought you were carrying in your bag, obviously.”
Leah shrugged. “I don’t know. The only thing I can think of is my father’s letters. I did bring them, but they were actually in my case—thank goodness! Maybe that’s what they were after?”
“But… why would they want those?”
Leah shrugged again. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it—the only thing I can come up with is that Black Buddha is mentioned in there and maybe he’s worried that my father might have said something about him? I’m willing to bet that the man who stole my bag—the same man who followed us yesterday—is probably one of Black Buddha’s thugs.”
Julia shuddered. “That doll was horrible. I can’t get the image out of my mind.”
“Me too,” admitted Leah. “But I keep telling myself that that’s what he was hoping to achieve. And I’m not going to let him get to me.” She looked hesitantly at Julia. “But you don’t have to get involved, you know. Like this morning—you could go do some sightseeing instead of coming with me to the bank. Just in case there’s any danger, especially now that you’re—”
“If you say ‘now that you’re pregnant’, I’ll thump you!” said Julia, only half-jokingly. “Of course I’m coming with you. What do you think I am? I’m not going to let some cheap shot from some lowlife thug scare me! And my being pregnant has nothing to do with anything. Don’t you start wrapping me up in cotton wool as well—you’re as bad as Arnold!”
“Okay, okay,” said Leah, holding her hands up and laughing. “Maybe we should just get dressed and go early then. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can see the bank manager and try to get to the bottom of those mystery payments.”
CHAPTER 16
They dressed quickly and had a hurried breakfast before leaving the flat. Leah wanted to make sure that they would be back in time for her to receive the package from the airport, although Aimee assured them that she planned to be home all day and could take the package. The bank was in Whitechapel, a suburb on the east side of London, which was on the other side of the city to Knightsbridge, but getting around London was fairly easy on the Underground.
They rode the Piccadilly line to South Kensington, where they changed onto the District line which took them straight across the city to Whitechapel station. At this time on a Monday morning, the Tube stations were full of commuters heading in to work, and Leah felt a wave of nostalgia as she watched them hurrying past her. It was not that long ago that she was one of their number.
Julia must have noticed her expression because she elbowed Leah gently and said: “Missing your old life?”
“A bit,” Leah admitted. “It’s strange—this is the first time I’ve been back since I moved to Singapore and, in a way, I feel like a total stranger, wandering through the streets of my old life. But in another way, it still feels so familiar… It’s almost as if I could step back in and pick up where I used to.” She hesitated. “I was wondering yesterday… if things don’t work out with Toran—”
“D
on’t say that,” said Julia. “Of course things are going to work out with Toran.”
Leah sighed. “I don’t know… I’m not so sure… I mean, he doesn’t seem to want to speak to me again.”
“You don’t know if he might have been trying your phone,” Julia pointed out. “And you didn’t tell him where we were staying in the U.K., did you? Does he have the flat’s number?”
“No,” Leah admitted. “But he could send me an email or Facebook message or something…”
“Maybe he left a message for you on your mobile, not realising it’s been stolen, and now he’s waiting for you to call back,” said Julia pragmatically. “Stop jumping to conclusions. Don’t forget, we only arrived in London yesterday morning and we’re in a totally different time zone.”
“Maybe…” said Leah with another sigh.
The train pulled into Whitechapel Station and a few minutes later they found themselves walking down Whitechapel Road, the main commercial strip in the area.
“Isn’t this the neighbourhood where Jack the Ripper was supposed to have committed all those murders?” asked Julia, sounding slightly disappointed as she looked at the innocuous buildings around them. “It all looks so… ordinary.”
Leah laughed. “What were you expecting? That was in the Victorian era. Whitechapel is actually a bit of a cultural hub now, making a name for itself on the London art scene. And it’s really multi-ethnic now too. A lot of Bangladeshi immigrants live here.”
“Yeah, but it still seems like it ought to feel a bit more sinister,” Julia grumbled.
They found the bank on the high street, tucked between a Tesco supermarket and an Oxfam charity store. It was a very small branch that looked in dire need of refurbishment. A long line of people were standing in front of the bank tellers and, from the expressions on their faces, most of them had been queuing for a while. There was only one counter that was occupied—by a young woman who looked harassed as she tried to put through withdrawals and deposits as fast as she could.
Leah wondered why there was only one teller during such a busy time on a Monday morning—then she saw the other bank clerk on the other side of the room, next to a rack of brochures about mortgages and savings accounts. She was an older woman, perhaps in her sixties, and she was having a heated argument with a young man in a pinstripe suit. They were trying to keep their voices down, but from the angry colour on both their faces, they were having trouble controlling themselves. Leah caught snatches of their argument as she and Julia walked closer:
“… but you don’t understand, Mr Smith is eighty-one and he only comes into town once a month!” the woman hissed. “He really appreciates that I ask after his health, as well as handling his pension payments. He’s got no family nearby and it’s comforting for him to know that somebody cares.”
“I don’t care how old Mr Smith is. Your job is just to calculate his pension and give him the money. You’re not here to act as some kind of social worker,” the young man said. “Look at that queue! You can’t keep people waiting while you spend twenty minutes chatting to someone about their varicose veins.”
The woman waved her hand. “People are already waiting. What’s a few more minutes? It’s important to show some kindness to those who need it.”
“We’re not in the business of kindness. We’re in the business of banking,” said the young manager. “You’re not employed to chat over tea—you’re here to help with financial transactions.” He shook his head in disgust. “Honestly, this place is stuck in a time warp. I’ve been looking over the management practices for this branch and everything is woefully inefficient! There needs to be some serious changes implemented in order to improve our productivity measures.”
The woman’s face turned redder. She leaned forwards and wagged a finger at him. “I’ve been at this branch for nearly thirty years now and doing this job for a very long time. Bloody Nora, I was serving customers when you were still in nappies! So I don’t need a young upstart like you coming in and telling me how to do my job! I don’t know what the world is coming to. I want no part in your modernisation if it means no one cares for anybody anymore and everything is just about crunching numbers.”
“Those are the rules,” said the young man stiffly. “If you want to continue working at this bank and under my management, then you will have to follow them.”
“Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m coming up for retirement next month, isn’t it?” glowered the older woman. She turned and marched through the door that led into the office behind the counters, slamming it after her. Huffing to herself, she settled down at one of the counters and called out, “Next please!”
The line shuffled forwards again. Leah hesitated, wondering if she should join it rather than talk to the bank manager as she had originally intended. From what she had seen of him, she didn’t think he would be very sympathetic.
Julia obviously shared her thoughts. “He’s going to be a tough nut to crack,” she commented, eyeing the manager as he stalked back into his office.
Leah sighed. “Oh well, I guess all we can do is try…” She walked over to the office and knocked on the open door.
“Yes?” The young manager looked up from the desk, where he was shuffling some papers. His face broke into a polite smile. “How can I help you, ladies?”
Leah went into the room. “I’ve got something that I was hoping you could help me with.”
“Certainly. Come in, sit down,” he said importantly, indicating the two chairs in front of his desk.
Leah and Julia made themselves comfortable, then Leah outlined her request. Her heart sank as she saw his expression.
“Impossible. Sorry—we just don’t give out information like that about our account holders,” he said, shaking his head.
“I understand your policy,” Leah said, giving him a persuasive smile. “But I was hoping you might be able to make a small exception in this case? You see, I’ve come all the way from Singapore and it’s very important that I find out who my father was paying this money to. Even if you can just give me a name…”
“Rules are rules,” he said testily. “If I make an exception for you, then where do I draw the line? Every Tom, Dick, and Harry is going to want me to break the rules to make an exception for them.”
“Well… I just…” Leah floundered, trying to think of some way to convince him.
“It’s a long-lost relative!” Julia blurted out. “We’re trying to track her down to let her know that Leah’s father has passed away. She’ll be devastated if she isn’t told.”
“Yes… uh… it’s a great aunt of mine,” said Leah, taking Julia’s cue and hoping fervently that her friend’s arbitrary guess that the account holder was a woman would be correct. “I’ve lost touch with her, but I know she would want to know about my father’s death. They were very close and… um… she used to look after him as a child and… I’d like to get in touch with her and make sure that she’s okay.”
“Well, I assume you have authority over your father’s affairs? In that case, you can opt to continue the payments,” said the bank manager. “But I can’t help you as far as giving you any personal information about the recipient of the money.”
Leah gritted her teeth in frustration. The man really was immovable! “Is there some way you could pass a message on to her?” she asked desperately. “Maybe I can leave you a note and you can give it to her the next time she comes into the bank? That way I can give her my contact details and she can get in touch with me. I’m sure she—”
“We’re not a post office or a concierge.” He gave a disdainful sniff. “We are here to provide banking services, which we’re very good at, but I’m afraid I can’t help you with the social service aspect. Besides, it’s a logistical problem—if I took a note from you, where would I keep it and how could I make sure our staff remembered to give it when this person came in? And imagine if all our clients started making these sorts of requests. I’m afraid it’s out of the question. Yes?
What do you want?” He looked irritably past their shoulders.
Leah turned around. She realised that the bank teller who had been arguing with the young manager earlier was hovering outside the open door of the office. The older woman had obviously been listening in to their conversation and her face was pinched with disapproval, but all she said was: “I’ve got a gentleman here who’d like to discuss a personal loan. D’you want to see him?”
“Oh yes, send him in please.” He turned back to Leah and Julia and said, “I’m afraid I can’t help you any more, ladies. But if there are any of our banking services that you might be interested in—we have a very good rate on home loans at the moment…”
Julia rolled her eyes and stood up abruptly. “No thanks,” she said. “I think I’ve had a taste of the kind of service I would get here.” Turning, she marched out with her head high. Leah was tempted to follow suit, but she decided that it was best not to burn bridges, just in case she needed to come back to see the man again later. She forced a polite smile and offered her hand. “Thank you very much for your help,” she said, before turning to leave.
As Leah passed the bank teller, still hovering by the open doorway, she gave her a rueful smile and saw the older woman’s mouth twitch in response. Outside the bank, she caught up with Julia, pacing on the pavement.
“What a pompous bag!” fumed Julia. “It was almost like he took a course on how to be as unhelpful as possible! I think I agree with that clerk who was arguing with him when we entered the bank. If I had to make a choice between her inefficient but human service, and his stuck-up business process management, I’d still choose hers.”
“Never mind,” said Leah, swallowing her own disappointment. “I guess we knew it was always a long shot. Stanford Lim did warn me that the bank was very unlikely to give up this information.” She sighed. “So this visit has been a wasted trip. I’m sorry to have dragged you all the way here for nothing.”
“For nothing?” Julia giggled. “That trip to Harrods yesterday was worth it alone! Don’t worry about me, I’m enjoying my visit to London perfectly well. And anyway, I thought this was meant to be a bit of a break for you.”