“Bit of a hurry, is it?” the cabbie asked.
“We’re getting married today—in Edinburgh,” Pru said. Such a simple statement, and it made her head swim.
“Shouldn’t you be there by now?” he asked.
Pru swallowed the panic that shot up into her throat. “No, we have loads of time—and the wedding planners have everything under control. All we need to do,” she said, taking hold of Christopher’s hand, “is show up.”
She looked longingly over her shoulder at the Caffè Nero stand in King’s Cross as Christopher pulled her along to their train. Once seated, panting slightly, she leaned over him and peered down the aisle. “Do you think the trolley will be along soon? I could just do with a coffee and a roll.”
Christopher pulled her to him and gave her a squeeze as the train silently pulled out of the station. “Twelve hours from now, you’ll be my wife.”
She gasped. “We’re down to hours.” An incredible calmed flowed through her; she was at one with the universe. “At last.”
They sat in first class and were served a full English breakfast, but Pru found she’d lost her appetite in the excitement, and ended up pushing her eggs round, trimming the bacon, buttering toast, and eating very little of it.
The trays cleared, Pru pulled her phone out of her bag and set it on the table. “I’ll ring Jo in a minute. She thought we were crazy to spend the night, but it’s worked out.” Pru tucked her arm through Christopher’s and said, “Now, what were you up to yesterday? What is this surprise?”
His eyes shone, and he broke out in a smile. “Well, how would you like to—”
Her phone vibrated. “It’s Jo,” she said, barely able to keep the delight out of her voice. “I’ll let her know all’s well.” She answered with, “Good morning! We’re well on our way, so you don’t have to worry about anything. Four and a half hours, and we’ll arrive midday, in plenty of time. How is everything? How was the drive for Lucy and Cordelia with baby Oliver yesterday?”
“Pru…” Nothing, followed by a muffled voice that said, “Go on, tell her.”
“Jo? Are you there?”
“Pru, it’s Alan.” Jo sounded as if someone had her round the throat.
“Alan? What’s wrong? Is he ill?”
“He’s gone.”
Chapter 41
“Gone? What do you mean ‘gone’?” Oh God, Alan had a heart attack, and it was all her fault for asking him to perform their wedding ceremony. Blood drained from her face as Christopher caught hold of her arm, his eyebrows raised in a question.
“Gone!” Jo shouted, her voice quivering with pain. “He walked out—again. Left this morning without a word. Lost his nerve and with no regard for anyone else involved, he’s just…” What began as a tirade drifted off into a wail.
“Gone,” Pru whispered to Christopher. It was the most sound she could make. “Jo, maybe he just…stepped out,” Pru said. “He’s at the shelter?”
The keening continued. Again in the background, a muffled voice followed by a ragged breath from Jo. Pru held the phone out so that Christopher could hear, too. “He was here with me last night. The concierge got him a taxi this morning—to Waverley for a London train. I’m sorry, Pru, I’m sorry that…”
“Don’t, Jo. It isn’t your fault,” Pru said as Christopher covered her hand. “Look, let me ring you right back. It’s going to be okay. We’ll take care of it, don’t worry.” Bravado, empty words—but it was all she could think to say. She rang off, and looked into Christopher’s eyes. “Waverley Station, train to London,” she repeated. “He couldn’t take it—it was too much for him. I pushed him too far.”
“No,” he said, gripping her hand. “Don’t take this on yourself—it’s Alan’s doing, not yours.”
No minister. No wedding. They sat in silence as the trolley rumbled by with another round of drinks. Pru thought of Alan, in a train rushing south toward London as they rushed north toward nothing.
“No.” Pru slammed her hand on the table, and all heads in the carriage turned their way. “Sorry,” she said, palms up. To Christopher, in a quiet but intense voice, she said, “I will not let this happen.” She scrambled for her phone and punched in a number. “Jo said he caught a London train. We’ll find him—and take him back to Edinburgh. He’s not getting away with this.” She saw the gleam in Christopher’s eye and that ghost of a smile. “Jo,” she said into the phone, “I need information.”
Jo was unintelligible, and so the phone was handed to Lucy. “Lucy—find out exactly when the taxi took Alan to the station. Can they trace the cabbie? Maybe Alan said something to him. We need to know which train he got on. Ring me back as soon as you can.”
The conductor, a black woman, made her way down the aisle, a massive amount of short braids sailing through the air as she turned her head from side to side, checking for tickets. Christopher stopped her and pulled out his warrant card. “Chloe,” he said, reading the name off her tag, “can you help us? We’re looking for a man who’s on a train from Edinburgh heading to London.”
Chloe examined Christopher’s warrant card carefully before handing it back to him. “Yes, sir—is he violent? An escapee?”
“No,” Pru said, “he’s the minister who’s supposed to be marrying us later today—in Edinburgh—and he’s gone…he’s taken off…he’s…”
“He’s done a bunk?” she asked, her eyes wide. “It isn’t often you hear of the vicar getting cold feet.”
Pru’s phone rang—Lucy was ready with all the facts the concierge had. Pru passed the details on to Christopher and the conductor: “He probably got to Waverley just after eight o’clock this morning.”
“Right,” Chloe said, and whipped out a device that seemed to be mobile phone, ticket machine, and system-wide train schedule all in one. “Let’s see where he might be.” They narrowed it down to two trains that left Edinburgh for London a half hour apart. But not every train stopped at every station. “I could send out an alert—they’d make an announcement on the train.”
“I doubt we’ll flush him out that way,” Pru said. “We need to get on both of those trains and search for him ourselves.” She looked at Christopher.
“If each of us could intercept one of the trains,” Christopher said, “and board it, we’d need to go carriage by carriage to search.”
“But we’d be in touch with each other,” Pru said, “and he couldn’t escape.”
“Once we find him, we’ll have to get off and back on a northbound train. Can you handle him on your own?” he asked Pru.
“You bet I can.” Adrenaline shot through her, and at that moment she could’ve jumped up and run after Alan’s train.
“Cor, you two are Holmes and Watson, you are,” Chloe said with a smile.
“Can you tell us where those trains are now?” Christopher asked. “Where could we meet them and board?”
Chloe had the answers from her magic device in half a minute.
They sat in silence waiting for the next stop, until Christopher said, “Hang on,” and went for his wallet, pulling out a handful of business cards that dropped onto the table in a scattered heap. From near the bottom, one of the cards shouted out in big red letters, “GOD BLESS YOU!”
Neither moved. “Yes,” Pru said at last. “Yes, ring Dugald and Sheena. Just to be on the safe side.”
The train approached the station in York, and Christopher grabbed the cards, his phone, and Pru, planting a quick kiss. “I love you,” he said. “We will be married today.” He got off, but stood on the platform and kept his eyes on her through the window until the train pulled out. He had almost an hour to wait for the first train from Edinburgh that Alan might be on. Pru gave him a brave smile and a tiny wave, and spent the next thirty minutes on the way to Durham perched on the edge of her seat.
Neither of them would have difficulty getting on the train, but Christopher would have an easier time of going carriage to carriage on a search, because he could wave his warrant card as police
identification. Good thing his official leaving date was two weeks off, or he might not have had that power. Pru, on the other hand, would need to be more low-key, although Christopher had made a phone call and Chloe had radioed ahead to explain the situation, so train personnel should at least be aware of her.
When the train pulled into the station at Durham, she shot out the door like a cork, burning off a fraction of her pent-up energy by running down the platform and up the stairs that led to the arched walkway over the tracks, her feet clanging on the wrought-iron steps. She stood panting, waiting twenty minutes more for her train and planning the hunt—she would begin in first class, at the front of the train, and work her way back.
The train eased into the station, and she boarded, walking slowly down the aisle as if looking for just the right seat. She didn’t believe Alan would travel first-class, but you never knew. All evidence must be examined, all possibilities proven true or false.
A conductor taking tickets in the second car stopped her. “All right, there?” he asked. “Do you have a seat?”
“No, I’m looking for…a friend,” she said quietly. “I was on a train to Edinburgh, but I discovered that my friend got on a train to London, by accident—sort of—and so I got off my train and I’ve just boarded this one. I need to find him.” Pru’s face reddened the further she got into the convoluted explanation.
“The runaway vicar, is it?”
Pru saw several passengers peer over their newspapers.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Is it all right if I walk through? Here,” she said, reaching into her bag, “let me pay for my ticket.”
“No, now, you’ve enough to worry about. Off you go.” He nodded on down the aisle. “And good luck to you.”
As she headed for the end of the carriage, she heard him say, “Here it is her wedding day, and the vicar’s run off. Fancy that.” A female voice replied, “Poor dear. And where’s her groom in all this?”
In the third carriage, it occurred to her that Alan could be hiding in a toilet, but then she realized that was silly. He didn’t know they were looking for him, why would he hide?
A voice came over the train system.
“If Alan Howard is on board, please make yourself known to one of the train guards or a member of staff, either the trolley attendant or a conductor. Again, if Alan Howard is on board…”
Crap. Pru checked the time. Just gone eleven. Christopher would be on board his train. She had about twenty minutes before her next stop in York. If Alan was on board and she hadn’t found him by then, he’d have an opportunity to run for it.
The fourth carriage held a mix of businessmen on their phones, two young women chattering a mile a minute, a thin fellow in a T-shirt drinking Tennent’s out of a can, a jacket left to hold someone’s seat…
As she reached out to open the door and move to the next carriage, Pru thought, that’s a nice leather jacket to be leaving in a seat for someone to nick. She froze and then walked back to the row and looked closely. She could see the top of his head—his brown hair blended in with the brown leather. He’d done his best to disappear, sliding so far down in the seat that his knees were smashed up against the opposite side. Pru stood without speaking for a few moments, until he poked his head out, like a tortoise coming out of its shell, and spotted her.
“Pru,” he said, struggling into an upright position. “I thought it was the police—I didn’t think you’d come to find me.” He looked up at her and away. “I am a wretched human being. You’re better off without me. Leave me—let me run and hide.”
That did it. She sat down beside him. “Get a grip, Alan.” She plopped her bag on the table and pulled out her phone. “We’re getting off at York and catching the next train back to Edinburgh.”
His eyes grew wide. “No, Pru, I can’t take it. Don’t you understand?”
She shook a finger in his face and hissed, “You will not do this to us. You will not do this to Jo.” He backed off and bumped his head on the window. His face lost all color, and he swallowed hard. “Alan,” she said, softly this time, putting her hand on his arm, “you aren’t responsible for what happens after the wedding or the christening—you can’t sprinkle us with magic dust. It’s your job to send us off with good wishes and your blessing. We can take it from there.”
He nodded without speaking and patted her hand. After a moment, he said, “I wanted everything to be perfect. For you and Christopher. For Jo. My Jo—seeing her again, being with her. I’m not good enough for her—for any of you. I’m sorry I ran off and spoiled your wedding day.”
“Nonsense,” Pru said, “you haven’t spoiled anything. We have plenty of time to get back.”
“Where is Christopher?” Alan asked, glancing at the door of the carriage.
“He’s on another train looking for you,” she said, phone to her ear. Christopher answered on the first ring.
“Have you got him?”
“Yes, Alan is here with me.” She spoke in a soothing tone, sensing Alan’s mood remained skittish. “We’ll get off in York and stay there until you can catch up.”
“Pru,” Alan said, “shall I get us a cup of tea?” Color had returned to his face, and almost a spark of life in his eyes. Pru wondered how many toilets there were on the train and how long it would take to search them.
“We’ll wait for the trolley, Alan.”
“When you arrive in York,” Christopher said, “take the next train to Edinburgh. This train doesn’t stop again until we arrive at King’s Cross.”
“London? But,” she said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice, “if you have to start all over again, you’ll be late.”
“I won’t take a train. I’ll go directly to the airport.” She didn’t reply, and he added, “I’ll make it in plenty of time.”
“Alan is very sorry for what he’s done,” Pru said, with a hard look at her traveling companion. “He knows I’m going to stay by his side until we get to Edinburgh.”
Alan sighed, stared out the window, and said, “I used to quite enjoy weddings.”
Pru shifted the phone away from her mouth, and said, “You’ll enjoy this one, or you’ll have me to answer to.”
Christopher chuckled. “Is that my bride giving orders?”
Yes, she thought, so it was. “Your bride has found her voice at last.” She turned away from Alan and spoke quietly into the phone. “It’ll be all right, won’t it? We can still do this?”
“You’re not getting out of marrying me this easily,” he said. She opened her mouth to ask him about Dugald and Sheena, but thought better of it. Why let Alan know there was a way out?
She and Alan sat without speaking, watching the world go by. Pru rummaged around in the corners of her mind, hoping to uncover the wedding-day glow she’d had that morning. She thought about the hours ahead, changing at York and heading north again. They should arrive in Edinburgh by midafternoon. She would ring Jo once they were settled in the right direction.
After a few minutes, Alan said, “Pru, I need to use the toilet.”
“Tie a knot in it, Alan.”
Chapter 42
The train glided into Waverley Station, and Pru saw Lucy’s tall, thin form on the platform. By the time they stepped off, she was at their side. Alan never had a chance—into a taxi they went, a woman on either side. They arrived at the east gate of the garden only fifteen minutes later, its ornate, stainless steel design glittering in the summer sun. This is it, Pru thought, checking the time. Surely Christopher had landed and was on his way.
Alan leaned over, put his hand on her arm, and said, “It’s all right, Pru. I can do this.”
“Alan,” she said, smiling, “you have no choice.”
Jo hovered near the entrance, and when they pulled up, she ran to open the door and drag Pru out—her gaze falling to the ground rather than on Alan.
“Jo,” Pru said as they struck out on the path to Caledonian Hall, “Alan says he’s really sorry, and I believe him. Everythin
g will be fine now.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Lucy and Alan followed ten steps behind.
“We’ve got the entire back of the marquee for your dressing room,” Jo said, as if Alan’s name had never been spoken. “Coats in the front, so you go through the second flap.” She waved at the white tent set up on the lawn to the side of the hall entrance.
Dugald and Sheena stood in front of the hall, dressed formally for the occasion—Dugald in a kilt of deep green and navy, the plaid formed with black, red, and white stripes. His waistcoat sported shiny buttons, and his sporran, a hairy thing made from what might have been badger, was topped by silver tassels. Sheena, her thin hair braided and wrapped around her head, wore an ankle-length skirt and sash of matching tartan. No one else was about, and the two of them looked around as if admiring the plantings.
“They said they were invited,” Jo said out of the corner of her mouth.
“Yes, they are invited,” Pru said, a warm glow in her heart. “Dugald and Sheena Fergusson. He’s a minister. It was in case…” She didn’t need to finish that. She stopped in front of the pair and introduced them to Jo. “Thank you so much for coming at such short notice. Did Christopher explain?”
Lucy and Alan passed within a few feet of them at that moment, and Jo took the opportunity to look away, down the path as if expecting someone else to show.
“Not to worry, Pru,” Dugald said. “He told us the story.”
“We were here only as backup,” Sheena added. “But we see that you’ve everything under control now.” She put her hand on Pru’s arm. “We hope you have a lovely day.”
Pru covered Sheena’s hand. “Please stay, won’t you? As our guests. You both look wonderful,” she added.
“Clan Fergusson, Pru,” Dugald said. “We could do nothing less.”
“Must get the bride ready,” Jo said, tugging on her arm until they were out of earshot. “There’s something else. I didn’t want to worry you on the train.”
Pru stopped. “What? Someone dropped the cake?” Pru grabbed Jo by the shoulders. “Oh, no—I have no dress. Really, no dress?”
Between a Rock and a Hard Place: A Potting Shed Mystery (Potting Shed Mystery series Book 3) Page 26