The nearest thing to perfume she could find was a bottle of aftershave on the floor under the sink. She dabbed a liberal amount onto her thighs, chest and under her ears.
Once she was ready and sitting on the bed, the waiting game lasted less than twenty minutes. Anton arrived clutching a bottle of Cava.
“I’ve got us some Spanish champagne to celebrate.”
“Can we afford champagne?”
“One of the waiters got it for me. I told him you were here.”
“Do waiters get paid more than kitchen hands?”
“No Anna, they just have access to things we don’t. Talking of which, I managed to smuggle out some lamb cutlets.” He held out a white plastic bag.
“Anton! Has this country turned you into a thief?”
“It is a perk of the job. They expect you to take a little bit for personal consumption. They know we need to eat.” He moved towards the fridge.
Sensing that he was avoiding eye contact, she decided to change the subject.
“Do you want me to cook them for you?” asked Anna.
“No, I managed to get some food down me before I left.” He opened the door of the fridge and placed the bag on the bottom shelf. “You have them for lunch tomorrow. Grab a couple of glasses out of the cupboard would you?”
Anna followed his eyes to the bedside cupboard. After coughing into her fist she crouched down to open it.
“You were meant to bend over,” laughed Anton.
She pulled out two thick glass tumblers, shut the door and stood up again.
“Sorry Anton, I need more time to get in the mood.”
“I thought you would be gagging for it.”
“Gagging for it?”
“Not able to wait. Greatly anticipating it. Gagging for it.”
“I was,” she paused a second, “gagging for it. Now I discover you are a thief. Can you not afford food and drink?”
“It is different here, Anna. You’ll learn.” He started to peel away the foil from the top of the wine bottle.
“I like the dress. Thank you.”
“I like it too. And before you ask, I bought it in a shop. Well, from a market stall.”
Anton looked down at the bottle and gripped the cork in his fist. Giving it his full attention, he twisted it back and forth until it started to move upwards under the pressure.
“It’s about to go…” He stepped towards Anna.
The cork popped out and hit the ceiling. Foaming wine spilled onto the floor before Anna managed to hold out a glass to catch the overflowing liquid. A smile broke out across her face.
“There you go.” Anton slowly filled both glasses. “I like it when you smile.”
“Put the bottle down. I want you to hug me.”
He did as he was told. Anna stood with the two glasses in her hands and her arms out wide as Anton wrapped himself around her. The feel of his body against hers blew away any negative thoughts she had.
“You smell… Different.”
“Don’t you recognise this?” She struggled to keep a straight face.
“No.”
“Do you like it?”
“As I say, it’s different.”
“It is your aftershave.” Anna burst out laughing. Another small volume of fizzy wine hit the floor as she failed to hold her arms steady.
Anton stepped back. “Hold it like that, let me look at you.”
“I am so happy to be here.”
“Good. It takes a bit of adjustment, but you will be fine. Just give it time.”
Anna held out a glass. Anton took it and put it to his lips.
She mirrored his action. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
“This tastes good.”
“It certainly does. Why don’t we finish the bottle and then…”
“What?”
“I am hoping you will be…”
“Gagging for it?”
“Yes.”
“Shall we see what happens?” She took a large gulp from her glass.
The following morning Anna made a point of getting up with Anton. He prepared their cereal. She cooked them scrambled eggs in the microwave.
As he left, he handed her four one-pound coins.
“Sorry Anna, it is all I have until I get paid tomorrow. Why don’t you go for a walk down to Camden? If you turn left down the high street, eventually you will see the road signs for it. It’s quite a walk, but at least you will see this is not such a bad place.”
“Don’t worry about me. I will be alright.”
“I do worry about you.”
“There is no need. You must not worry.”
“All my money goes on the rent for this place. Once you get a job we will be able to start living. Believe me; we will have a better life here.”
“I will look for a job today.”
“No Anna, don’t do that. We need to talk first. You can’t just walk in somewhere and ask for a job.”
“Why can I not do this?”
“You are an illegal. Have a rest for two or three days. I will ask around. I will get you a job.”
A walk down to Camden lock and back took a sizable chunk out of the day, but still it dragged. Even amongst hundreds of people she felt lonely. The reality of Anton’s long hours hit her as she stared at yet another pair of shoes she could not afford. Any hope that her immune system would fight her chest infection without help from some antibiotics evaporated on the long walk back to the bedsit. The sky turned grey, rain started to spit down onto the dirty pavement and she coughed all the way home. It was a cough that came from deep down inside her lungs.
There was only one thing to do in an attempt to combat her loneliness. Anna opened her book at chapter one and started to read To kill a mocking bird again.
Anna had told herself over and over again to be positive when Anton arrived back. It lasted only minutes after the welcome home hug.
“Did you get down to Camden?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you find Camden Lock?”
“I did. I could not buy anything. We have no money.”
“Yes we do. I told you, Friday is pay day.”
He laid down a small stack of notes on the bed and then proceeded to separate them into two piles.
“One hundred and twenty for the landlord, the rest is ours.”
“London seems very expensive, Anton.”
“It is, but this is where the work is. My wages will pay the bills. Whatever you earn we can enjoy. I have put out some feelers at work.”
“Feelers?” Anna coughed. “What are feelers?”
“I have let people know you are looking for a job. Nikolai thinks he might be able to get you a cleaning job at a hotel. They run a system where they pair an illegal with a legal. As long as you do not have your passport with you, you can pretend to be the other woman if an inspector calls.”
“The other woman, she will be paid more, yes?”
“Yes. Twice as much. But she will pay tax and national insurance.”
“I went into a pharmacist today. I ask for antibiotics for my chest.”
“Sorry Anna. You need a prescription here.”
“The lady say this. How do I get a prescription?”
“From a doctor. You have to go to a doctor. You will have to go to Harringay on Monday. It is not that far. I have the address of a doctor who takes cash and does not ask questions. You should ask for the pill while you are there. I assume you do not have many left.”
“Two months, but I will ask.” She looked as if she was about to cry.
“Don’t worry Anna, I felt exactly the same when I arrived.” He lifted her chin with his forefinger. “Nikolai calls it the readjustment blues.”
“Anton, can we only cuddle tonight?”
“Of course. Take your clothes off and climb into bed. I’ll stroke you to sleep.”
“I do love you.”
“And I love you. Now stop worrying and get into bed.”
; Monday was Anton’s day off. The couple emerged onto the high street and turned right. Anton guided Anna across the road at the next Pelican crossing.
“Are you okay to walk?” he asked as they approached the bus stop.
“Yes,” she agreed reluctantly. “We should save money until I am working.”
“We will stop for a rest in Finsbury Park. I often made myself a sandwich and took it there on a Monday. I wrote most of my letters to you while sitting on a bench in Finsbury Park.”
“I loved receiving your letters.”
“Were you ever unfaithful?”
“Anton! No. I love you.”
“You are a beautiful woman. You must have been approached.”
“Some men showed an interest, but I send out the right signals. They soon get the message.”
“Good.” He kissed her on the left cheek. “I am proud to be your only lover.”
“And you? Have you been faithful?”
“I look, but I do not touch. I waited patiently for the most beautiful woman in the world.” He kissed her again. “No other woman can set my heart racing the way you do.”
“Sometimes you are soppy.”
“Ah, you learn from my soppy love letters. I thought you liked soppy.”
“I like soppy. And I love soppy Anton.”
They kissed a little longer this time, and only just avoided bumping into an old lady struggling with her shopping.
Walking London’s streets alone had been a horrible experience. Walking them with Anton by her side lifted Anna’s spirits again. London was the most famous city in the world and she now had the opportunity to live there with the man she loved passionately. Even the ferocity of her persistent cough seemed to have reduced in honour of Anton’s presence.
Numerous buses passed them by as they made their way to Finsbury Park. Her feet would have preferred to have been on board one, but her head told Anna they were doing the right thing by walking.
“Here it is. This is my favourite bench. You would not believe how many times I wished you were by my side as I sat here.” He dropped onto the far end.
Anna let out a little cough and sat down as close to him as she could get. His arm wasted no time in reaching across the back of the bench to her shoulder. He pulled her even closer.
“Sorry, I have no bread today,” said Anton as a sparrow landed on the grass on the other side of the path. He turned to Anna. “I always brought some bread for the birds.”
Without speaking she nestled her head into his shoulder.
“Next Monday I will take you to Hyde Park. We will take a whole loaf and feed the birds all day.”
At two-o’clock, Anna walked up the four white painted concrete steps alone. Anton had told her she was more likely to be seen if she went unaccompanied. The building was not unlike the one where she now lived, except that the windows were clean, it was well decorated and the gutters did not leak. The gold plaque on the left had the words Edwards and Mason Solicitors engraved on it. The equally impressive one on the other side proclaimed Dr F Askew MBBS MRCGP DRCOG DCH and Dr W Reynolds MBChB MRCGP DObst RCOG FP Cert. Anna took a deep breath and took hold of the brass handle. She did not breathe again until after she shut the heavy door behind her.
A sign directed her up to the first floor landing. The door to the small reception area was wedged open.
“Good afternoon. How can I help you?” The dark haired woman was well into her fifties, but clearly took care of herself. She was slim, her make-up discreet but expertly applied and her hair positively shone.
“I would like to see a doctor.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No… I am new. I am new to London.”
“I see. We will need to register you then.”
“I have bad chest.” Anna patted her sternum. “I need antibiotics.”
“Dr Askew will prescribe appropriate medication after he has examined you. I may be able to fit you in at four-fifteen, but you will need to register first. You can sit down over there and fill in this form.”
Anna took the sheet of paper and pen slid towards her by the receptionist. Anton’s advice to learn English and to learn it well had never been more appreciated. She rested the form on a copy of Tatler magazine, leant forward over the coffee-table and started to write.
By the time she had finished completing the form, a man in his late twenties had arrived, sat down opposite her for five minutes, and then been invited through to the surgery.
“I need your national insurance number,” said the receptionist abruptly.
“I am waiting for this to come through.”
“I see.” The woman dropped her eyes to the form. “Nationality, Latvian, new to the country and waiting for your national insurance number?”
“Yes.”
“Mmm,” the receptionist pursed her lips. “Wednesday evening. Eight o’clock. Bring this form with you.”
“I cannot see doctor today?”
“Not without a national insurance number you can’t.”
“But…”
“No discussions young lady. I have said all I am going to say on the matter. Now I bid you a good day.”
As she walked back out of the reception, Anna tried to suppress the tickle in the back of her throat. She did not want to appear to be putting an illness on. Then a loud cough jumped uncontrollably out of her lungs.
“Boots on the High Street,” shouted the receptionist. “They will give you something to tide you over.”
With her fist still raised to her mouth, Anna turned and croaked, “Thank you.”
Chapter 7
“Good morning DS Harrington. Or should I say good afternoon?” DS Christine Mulvey looked at her watch.
“I spent the night in Cambridge and you can’t get a train direct to Reading from there. Did you not pick up my email?” asked Harrington.
“I haven’t trawled through them yet. I’ll you why in a minute.”
“Sounds like you’ve unearthed something.”
“Nothing to get excited about, just yet another woman worth talking to. What was the thing with Cambridge then? I am surprised you didn’t call me.”
“Is that tea?”
“Get your own.”
“I only wanted a slurp. I’m gasping.”
“As I say…”
Harrington studied Mulvey’s face. Her grin said she could have been joking, her eyes told him she was not.
“It can wait. I’ll get us both one in a minute.” Harrington tried to look unperturbed.
“Tell me about Cambridge.”
“I picked up another piece of the Hetherington-Jones jigsaw there.”
“Was it a significant piece?” She sat up straighter.
“It’s nothing to wet your knickers… Whoops, sorry.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. So don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”
Harrington looked for a smile on Mulvey’s face. When he could not see even a hint of one, he moved the conversation on.
“One of the missing links on Hetherington-Jones’ land management course has finally contacted me. I’ve even had a telephone conversation with a guy in Canada, but one of the last names I managed to track down still lives in Cambridge. She married one of her old lecturers, and when I say old lecturer, I mean old.”
“And the good ship Hetherington-Jones docked in her port as well I take it.”
“He tried, but failed evidently. I’m not so sure though, she seemed to know him rather well, while on the other hand she couldn’t remember the names of any of his cronies, even though she seems to have socialised with them a lot. Anyway, the story this Anita woman had to tell suggested his little circle of rugby chums had a wager on who could shag the most countries. Well not countries, but…”
“Different nationalities.”
“That’s right, different nationalities. In a month. The December before he graduated. The theory was that Christmas and New Year festivities always b
rought out the worst in women. Well, Anita said they worded it the other way; always brings out the best in women.”
“Carry on, this sounds interesting.”
“Well, one of their stomping grounds was Addenbrooke’s hospital on account of a large number of foreign nurses working or studying there. Furthermore, one of them disappeared without trace. Which checked out; January of the following year an Indian nurse failed to turn up for work and was never seen again. The paperwork suggested the most likely explanation was an arranged marriage back in India, but that was a theory never substantiated.”
“Do we know if Hetherington-Jones definitely had sex with the missing nurse?”
“No, as yet there is no concrete evidence to connect him to her. According to Anita, Hetherington-Jones was the only one to claim an Indian girl on his list and the others never disputed it. The question therefore is; was it the same Indian woman? I’ve got a local DC trying to establish if there is a link between the two.”
“Did the rugby lads dispute any of his other conquests?”
“Yes. Anita said more were disputed than accepted. She said the guy had to be seen going into the girl’s room, or driving off into the night with her. Some men are right bastards, aren’t they?”
“If they are good enough looking to be a bastard, yes, they usually are a bastard. Though, as they say, it takes two to tango. The women know the score. They might regret it when they don’t get the follow up call, but that’s the price they are willing to pay in an attempt to secure the hunkiest bloke in the pack. Darwin called it evolution.”
Chas Harrington shook his head and then lifted his eyes to meet Mulvey’s.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“The obvious. I would love to have a chat with Hetherington-Jones but know it would be premature to do so.”
“I’m not sure I agree. What have we got to lose by bringing him in?”
“No. Let’s dig up all the evidence we can, and hit him with it all at once. George always says keep them spinning and they will eventually puke up something they had for lunch.”
“George? Who’s George?”
“He is my boss, DCI Collins.”
“Oh right. I haven’t heard you call him George before.”
“No, I try not to do so. I prefer to keep things professional.”
Down in the Woods Page 7