‘You were very brave.’ Maggie threw off her jacket and began to reassemble the goods. ‘But may I say that I was a bit surprised at—’
‘Hush, child,’ said Bea, putting her finger to her lips. ‘Trust me. Do as I say, and we’ll all get home in one piece.’
Maggie shot a look at the half-open door to the bathroom, and nodded. ‘Give me five minutes.’
Bea unlocked the door to her own room and shut it behind her. She didn’t bother to switch on the lights, but went to the window and leaned on the sill, looking down past the brightly flaring petunias in the window boxes, down and down to the canal where some ducks were squabbling, giving a wide berth to a stately swan. It was a time of day that she loved. Distant bells chimed the half-hour. The sinking sun lit flares of colour across the towers and turrets of the city.
Had she done the right thing? Tangling with evil was not something a sixty-plus widow needed to be doing. If only Hamilton were still alive … she cut off that thought. Tried to think of nothing at all.
There was a knock on the door and Maggie entered with the coffee set box and the tin which once contained shortbread. She hesitated, seeing that Bea didn’t turn around to greet her. ‘You must be tired, poor thing,’ she said. She put the boxes on the big bed and left the room, taking such care to shut the door quietly that it banged into place. Bea was startled into a laugh. Trust Maggie to make a noise even when she didn’t mean to.
Now, should she have a shower or indulge in a bath?
Ah. A knock at the door. Maggie had returned, half laughing and half dismayed. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Abbot, but Charlotte won’t let me back into our room. I don’t quite know what to do.’
‘You upset her.’
Maggie shrugged. ‘Chalk and cheese. Sharing with her was never going to be a permanent option. Can I doss down with you?’
‘I’ll speak to her.’ Bea told herself that this difficult day would end sometime or other, and that tomorrow she’d look back on it and smile. She knocked on the door of the other room, said she was alone and worried about Charlotte, and might she come in?
Charlotte opened the door and let Bea in once she saw Maggie wasn’t with her. Charlotte’s face was the colour of uncooked pastry; she was definitely unwell.
Bea asked, ‘Can I get you anything? Are you drinking plenty of water?’
‘Nothing works when it’s this bad. Just keep that cow Maggie away from me, right? All I want is a bit of peace and quiet and …’ Charlotte dissolved into tears again. At this rate she’d be dehydrated from more causes than one.
‘All right,’ said Bea. ‘I’ll take Maggie’s things next door. She can sleep with me tonight, and tomorrow we’ll get you back home so that you can put all this behind you.’ She went into the bathroom. ‘Is this Maggie’s toiletbag? Yes? And the suitcase she’s using?’
‘To make matters worse,’ sobbed Charlotte, ‘I can’t even get through to Liam’s phone now.’
‘You poor thing,’ said Bea, torn between wanting to slap the girl, and give her a comforting hug.
‘Oh …!’ Charlotte flung herself past Bea into the bathroom again.
Bea sighed, collected what she thought Maggie needed and returned to her own room. Maggie turned away from the window, where she’d been watching dusk settle over the city. Maggie had been crying, too, but had herself more or less under control.
‘I longed to see this place, and it is beautiful, of course. But what with Zander letting me down and … everything … I’ll be glad never to see it again.’
Bea switched on the lights and put a comforting arm around Maggie’s shoulder. ‘It’s a beautiful city and one day you’ll be glad to come back again, with another man, perhaps. I’ve been here many times with Hamilton and always loved it. Of course this time it’s different, but I’ll come back again, perhaps next spring, to buy some more clothes.’ She thought with regret of the outfit she’d tried on that morning. If only Charlotte had made her appearance ten minutes later!
‘It’s different for you. You had Hamilton for company.’
‘For thirty-five, nearly thirty-six years. Not long enough.’ She straightened her shoulders. ‘Go and have a good long shower or a bath, or whatever. We’ll rescue the rest of your things in the morning.’
Maggie went into the bathroom and turned on the taps. Soon Bea heard her singing. Of course. Maggie needed noise to make sure she was alive. Maggie probably snored. Ouch! Well, it couldn’t be helped. Hamilton had purred in his sleep, right up to his last few nights when he’d been silent, sedated with morphine to kill the pain. Well, best not to think about that.
Bea emptied the rest of her things from her overnight case – Hamilton’s overnight case – and set to work.
Tuesday morning
The following morning everything went according to plan. Not Mr Van’s plan, but Bea’s. She’d spent some time wondering what she would do in Mr Van’s place, and had come to the conclusion that he’d given in far too easily at the restaurant. Bea thought he’d set Herman to watch that she didn’t leave the hotel during the night and when she did leave, she’d be followed and the case wrenched from her before she could get to the station.
So she took certain precautions.
She rose before Maggie, showered, dressed and popped her overnight things into the case Maggie was using. Her wrist ached, but not intolerably. After she’d roused Maggie, she knocked on Charlotte’s door. The girl had slept badly, if at all. She looked dreadful, with greenish shadows under her eyes and reddened lids. The first thing she said was, ‘I don’t want any breakfast.’ The second was, ‘I don’t think I’m up to driving all that way.’
‘Shall I get the hotel people to call the doctor for you?’
‘Don’t be stupid. I’m not that ill. I’ll be all right when I get back home.’
‘I came by train but I could go back with you to help with the driving, if you like?’
‘I suppose that would be best.’
Bea told herself that it was best to forget Charlotte’s rudeness, and concentrate on how ill the child looked. ‘I’ll get the hotel to bring you up something to drink while Maggie and I go down to breakfast.’
‘I don’t want anything.’
Bea curbed her frustration. ‘Very well. Now I’ve packed already. I’ll take my overnight bag to the station after we’ve had breakfast, which will give you and Maggie time to finish up here. All right?’
‘I suppose so.’
Bea went down to breakfast with Maggie, whose appetite was undimmed by their plight. Maggie relished every part of the Continental breakfast supplied, from the different types of ham and cheese to the selection of freshly baked rolls, the hard-boiled eggs, the cereals, the juices and the array of pâtés and jams provided. Bea could only manage one croissant and a cup of coffee.
Bea explained to Maggie that she’d take her bag to the station straight away, so would Maggie get Charlotte and all their luggage down to the foyer ready to leave in an hour’s time. Maggie nodded and helped herself to a third plateful.
Paying the bill for the three of them, Bea explained to Erik that she was very nervous after that awful man had tried to get in to see the girls. Now one of the girls was really quite poorly and Bea had to get them back to London straight away, but she had various errands still to do.
For one thing, she’d been supposed to meet up with an old friend to return an overnight bag that she’d borrowed on her last visit, and she wanted to leave that in the left luggage place at the station and post the code to her. Could Erik lend her a piece of paper and a stout envelope for this, and did he know of a reliable taxi driver, who could help her get around?
Erik nodded. ‘You need an extra big taxi driver, maybe?’
‘Perhaps two?’ Bea suggested. ‘One to park his taxi and the other to go with me into the station to lodge the bag, and then help me post the letter? I’d pay whatever they ask.’
Erik reached for the phone.
By the time Bea had collected
the bag from her room, a taxi was waiting for her outside the hotel with two large men inside. Both were wearing dark glasses and both were grinning. They weren’t taking her fears seriously. After all, Bruges was a very safe place to live. On the other hand, she was offering them double their usual fares for squiring her around and her antics would provide them with a fine tale to tell their friends about in the bar that night.
They shook hands with Bea, introducing themselves as Jan and Dirk. Jan took the bag from Bea, commented on how heavy it was, and ushered her into the back seat. The radio was blasting out the news from a local station. As Jan got into the passenger seat, Bea thought she glimpsed a large dark car parked under the trees by the side of the canal. And yes, it moved off after her.
She tensed and then relaxed. Mr Van couldn’t do anything to her with two such stalwart men to look after her.
‘We protect you from the bad guys,’ boasted Dirk, the larger of the two men and also the driver.
‘I’m very grateful,’ said Bea. And indeed she was. The large dark car followed them round the corner. There was a complex system of one-way streets on this side of Bruges and the car clung to their bumper all the way to the ring road, and turned with them on the way to the station.
Dirk stiffened, losing his smile. He muted the sound of the radio, but said nothing till they parked outside the station. The dark car pulled up behind them. As Bea made to get out, he held up his hand. ‘One moment, please.’
He set the car in motion again, did a U-turn and regained the main road via the traffic lights. The dark car cut across several others to close up behind them. Dirk conferred with Jan in Flemish, as he drove the taxi neatly round to the far side of the station, where there was a large car park. He found a slot and eased the taxi into it. The large dark car cruised in behind them but could find no place to stop nearby.
Jan said, ‘That car is following us, yes?’
Bea nodded. The driver’s window had been wound down, and she’d had a good look at the two men inside; Herman and Mr Van. Her throat constricted.
‘Dutch plates,’ observed Dirk.
Bea said, ‘Yesterday, the driver of that car tried to get into the hotel room occupied by two young girls, friends of mine. He tried to get me into the same car. Later his passenger forced himself on us at the restaurant and threatened us. The girls were very upset.’
Jan said, ‘There was a programme on the television the other night about men taking girls for the sex trade. Your two girls are pretty, no? And you yourself might be appealing to a certain type of man.’
At the thought of a man finding her a sex object at her age, Bea was seized by a painful desire to scream with laughter. She fought it off, just. In a voice that wobbled, she said, ‘Maggie is very attractive, but her friend is badly dressed and wears glasses.’
Dirk mused, ‘My granny used to say you don’t look at the mantelpiece while poking the fire.’
Jan thought this might be too coarse a saying for a lady passenger. ‘Hrrm,’ he said. ‘Well, this is no joke.’
Bea reassured him. ‘They won’t try anything with you two around.’
Dirk took charge. ‘We both come in with you. Let me carry the bag. Is too heavy for you.’
Bea was glad that they had both volunteered to accompany her because, as they walked along the busy central passage between the platforms, she caught sight of Herman dodging his way through the crowd, trying to catch up with them. Perhaps he’d left Mr Van to park the car?
The Left Luggage lockers were off the concourse in a room at the front of the station. Bea turned in the doorway, unzipping the bag and holding it up so that Herman could see the shortbread tin and the box which had once contained a coffee set. She saw his eyes focus on them as she did up the zip again.
She asked Jan and Dirk to stand behind her to prevent Herman from seeing exactly which locker she was going to use. She heaved the bag inside and slammed the door shut, testing the lock. So far, so good. She craned her neck around Jan to see if Herman was indeed watching her – which he was. She needed him to see that she was fulfilling her part of the bargain to the letter, so she asked Jan to move one pace to her left, so that Herman could watch her put the code for the locker into the pre-addressed envelope.
By now Herman was on his mobile, frowning, watching her every move. Perhaps he’d hoped to snatch the code from her as soon as she’d deposited the bag in the locker?
Jan and Dirk escorted her to a post box outside the station. Herman followed, still on his mobile. Bea dropped her letter into the box, checking that mail was collected at frequent intervals. Mr Van should have the letter tomorrow morning. As she walked back through the station to the taxi, the two men kept pace with her, one at either shoulder. She wondered if film stars with bodyguards felt like this. She rather enjoyed the feeling. Herman trailed after them, still on his mobile, no doubt reporting to his boss.
Bea settled into the back of the taxi, but couldn’t feel relief as yet. She was still wound up, on a high. She couldn’t relax till she and the girls were all safely through Customs, and – oh dear – there was that long drive ahead.
Jan was enjoying this. ‘Where to now, then? You want us to take you around the beauties of our wonderful city?’
Bea laughed. ‘I wish I had the time. But yes, come to think of it … would you drop me off at Rubica’s on the corner of Simon Stevinplein before returning me to the hotel? I need to pick up an outfit I tried on yesterday.’ The diversion would give her an opportunity to check if Mr Van were still following her or not. If he’d been fooled, he’d now disappear. But if he had worked out what she’d done … she shuddered. She didn’t like to think what he might do next.
Both men laughed. ‘You are one wild dame!’ said Jan, who obviously watched too many old films.
‘I am that,’ said Bea. ‘Indulge me. I’m very happy to pay whatever you ask for the pleasure of your company.’
The two men conferred, delighted to sink themselves into the role of James Bond, rescuing a damsel in distress. What a wonderful change this made from the daily routine!
Jan decided he would go into the shop with Bea, while Dirk circled the block. Would it be possible for the lady to buy an outfit within ten minutes? They understood it usually took longer. Bea said that they could rely on her.
Jan ushered her into the shop, while Bea sought out Jeannine, explaining that she was in a great rush, had to get back to London unexpectedly early, but would love to take the outfit that she’d tried on yesterday with her, and here was her card.
When she had completed her transaction, Jan told her to wait inside the shop until he saw Dirk’s car arrive and when it did, he rushed her across the pavement into it.
Jan had regained his smile. ‘There is no more sign of that car. I would have seen them, if they had still been on our tail.’
Dirk wondered, ‘Perhaps we should have called the police, no?’
‘No,’ said Bea, perhaps a little too quickly. She calmed down to say, in reasoned tones, ‘Thanks to you, there’s no harm done and calling the police would delay our departure and cost you both time off work. One of my girls is really quite poorly and I want to get her home as quickly as possible. Take me back to the hotel. I’m sure they won’t follow me any longer.’
And indeed there was no large dark car on the way back to the hotel, or lurking under the trees beside the canal.
‘You are two wonderful men,’ said Bea. ‘I’ll remember you both in my prayers tonight …’ Now why had she said that? It wasn’t a thought that would normally occur to her. ‘How much do I owe you?’
‘Two taxi fares from the hotel to the station and back,’ said Jan.
Bea paid him treble what he’d asked for, and thanked them both.
Tuesday early afternoon
Bea’s wrist was aching like mad by the time they reached London again. She drew up outside the girls’ flat and got herself out of the car, moving stiffened joints one by one. She didn’t expect Charlotte to
thank her for driving them home, and she wasn’t disappointed.
Although Maggie had much the longer legs, Charlotte had insisted on sitting in the front seat, because she said she was always car sick if she sat in the back. Bea believed her. The girl had revived a little once they were back in England, but she hadn’t exactly been a sparkling companion. Maggie had, predictably, hooked herself into her iPod and passed the journey by listening to some of her favourite tunes. The crackle of her music had nearly driven Bea to distraction. But there … Maggie had had something to complain about. Bea supposed.
Charlotte humped her case – the one she’d borrowed from Bea – out of the car and left it on the pavement, saying that she was too ill to carry it indoors, and that if Maggie would care to bring it up, she could pack her own things and get out of the flat. Maggie shrugged, but said she didn’t mind if she did.
Bea enquired where she was to leave the hired car, and Charlotte came up with an address in North Kensington. They were all too tired to observe the usual pleasantries.
Maggie asked if it would be all right if Bea took Maggie’s case on to her house, and Bea said she’d do that, particularly since – as she no longer had the use of Hamilton’s overnight bag – she’d packed her own things at the bottom of Maggie’s case early that morning.
Maggie disappeared into the flats, telling Bea that she’d be home soon. Bea tucked herself back into the car with a groan, for her wrist really did ache abominably and however often she’d adjusted it, the seat was all wrong for her. She got out her phone and alerted Oliver to expect her in an hour. She still had one more job to do before she could relax.
Tuesday early afternoon
Rafael could hardly believe it. He’d had a key to Liam’s flat for ever because Charlotte had got locked out one day and so arranged for the people in the flat upstairs to keep a spare key, and vice versa. But when he’d kept his appointment with the scumbag, he found the bird had flown. Well, Rafael would catch up with him at work and wouldn’t there half be a reckoning then!
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