Feeling the need for a break I headed to the cafeteria, parked my trolley to one side and queued up for some desperately-needed strong coffee. The early morning Toosh push and Slappin' leather session was finally taking its toll. As I sipped from my coffee mug I spied, once again, the same guy that seemed to be shadowing me around IKEA. This time I caught him looking straight at me and it was obvious that he was trailing me.
I'd spent the last two hours piling my trolley high with items, one after another, and the dodgy bloke didn't have a trolley near him – or even one of those huge IKEA sacks, which are great to use for storing laundry. Not that I'd know, of course, as it's strictly forbidden to remove them from the store (unless, of course, you’re willing to pay a quid for one – and frankly I’m not). I was tired, sore, and generally pissed off with the world. So I decided that I'd brace myself and confront the fellow head-on. I gulped down the last of my coffee, scalding my tongue in the process, and strode across the cafeteria using my trolley like a battering ram. Days of pent-up anger and frustration were about to be vented on my IKEA stalker.
"Do you have a problem with me?” I shouted, “Or do you plan to keep leaving notes on my car until I return to the States?"
The poor bloke jumped back a step and blinked at me. I quickly bit my tongue, scorched as it was. That last bit about threatening notes had totally slipped out unintentionally.
“I’m chief of store security,” he answered hurriedly, producing his pass from his inner pocket and flashing it under my nose. I turned puce. Long gone were my tact, discretion and self-control. I could sense everyone in the cafeteria, staff and customers alike, turn as if in slow-motion and stare at me.
I'd let my paranoia run wild, and as a result found myself in a most awkward and terribly embarrassing situation. I wondered if they had security camera images of me sneaking out that sacred IKEA sack I’d so blatantly stolen the last time I'd been to the store almost a year ago, when I'd purchased a wardrobe for my flat and a few other bits and bobs. (OK – I'll admit now that I nicked it, but it does make a jolly good laundry holder.)
On the defensive I stared back at the security guard. “I don’t think I've done anything wrong to deserve being shadowed around the store,” I said. “But if you believe otherwise, then please enlighten me.”
“If you would please follow me,” he growled.
“And if I refuse?”
I sounded so aggressive. It wasn’t like me at all to cause trouble or to be so hostile. I was obviously in dire need of a good night’s sleep. Or, as I’m sure Tammy would have psychoanalysed, You’re in need of a good shag, my girl. She would have been right, too, but that option seemed highly unlikely. With my current love life in such a shambles, a good night's sleep was probably all I would get.
“If you don’t behave and follow me,” the security guard hissed, bringing me back to the present, “I could just strip-search you here.”
I almost slapped him in the face for that, but not wanting to be the cause of any more scandal I meekly followed him. My trolley ever so accidentally bumped in to his heels a couple times on the way. He couldn’t be set on strip-searching me, surely; I didn’t think that was legal. And even if it was, at the very least he'd have to call for a female colleague to do it.
“Why don’t we be civil about this?” I implored as I found myself guided to the private staff quarters. “I do plan to buy the furniture I've selected.” In any case, I didn't think that a queen-sized bed together with mattress and headrest could be subtly taken out of the store unobserved, even if someone was ludicrous enough to try.
I wondered if my frizzy hair, which was now making a comeback, had something to do with it all.
“I would like to know,” the security guard said, as we finally found ourselves out of hearing range of the store's other customers, “what it is that you are hiding under your blouse.”
Was this some sort of come-on? The only thing I had under my blouse was my 36B bust, but I wasn’t going to let him have a peek at that! Then my gasp of indignation turned to a silly giggle as I realised he was referring to my bulky bum bag, which did bulge out rather suspiciously.
“You mean this?” I blithely sighed, relieved that it was only going to be a minor misunderstanding. I lifted my blouse just far enough for him to see the bum bag, and I observed that it was his turn to glow crimson.
“Please forgive me.” he stuttered.
He obviously thought he was going to find some IKEA article under there, and I wondered if there was an IKEA item actually small enough to fit around my waist, or anyone’s waist for that matter. Bar the vases, candles tea-towels and things, most IKEA kit is packaged into huge cardboard boxes. And who would go all the way to IKEA and face the queues for just a couple of candles? Clearly, I wasn’t the only one in dire need of a good night's sleep.
Apologies accepted, I made my way to the tills and wheeled through all my goods, paid with my wad of cash, and pounced on a couple of junior staff to help me lug my new purchases into my spanking new spacious van.
Van finally choc-a-bloc with my precious goods, I revved the engine and started my journey south out of the city and into the quieter country lanes.
It was almost dusk by the time I pulled up outside my soon-to-be rural abode. The garden had been transformed back to the neat little pasture I'd first seen with Tammy, apart from the fact that there was a little spot of horse-manure on the grass. I realised that Robbie had obviously taken me at my word and got some four-legged friends in to chomp away at the overgrown lawn.
It was hard to believe that only ten weeks had passed since Tammy and I had accidentally stumbled into this cottage's grounds. What had happened since then had been a whirlwind action-packed adventure, but one which I wouldn’t change for the world. Despite my achey-breaky heart, I felt suddenly strong and positive. My mind was made up. Vivien might have thwarted me once, but I had five weeks ahead of me to prepare my crusade against her. As John Dryden once said: For they conquer who believe they can.
Chapter Seventeen
Robbie met me for lunch the following day at the Rural Inn café. I'd gone to the solicitor first thing in the morning and had signed all the official documents. I have to admit I struggled to pay attention as the deeds were read out. I sat there and tried to look as if I understood all the clauses and legal terminology, and was quite proud of myself as I'd only had to stifle a couple of yawns throughout.
Robbie looked rather solemn during lunch. I wondered what was wrong, but decided to overlook his mood thinking maybe it was just the weather. I'd woken that morning to dark thunderous clouds, which threatened to chuck down with rain.
We drove to the cottage in my van. I was just as chatty as ever, but I don’t think Robbie paid attention to anything I said. It was a total one-way conversation and I actually felt quite breathless by the time I pulled up at the front drive to my new property. The main gate opened without even a minimal squeak. The front garden looked even more fabulous as the sun suddenly broke though and the clouds moved aside. I jumped down from the van and sprinted up the cottage steps to the front door, which also opened with ease. As I pushed the door wide I gasped with delight. Cobwebs, dust and all that iffy furniture had gone, and the cottage looked almost brand new. The floorboards still needed some varnish, but the living room looked so bright and spacious, much more so than I originally imagined.
I could pull off my line dancing in the front room without a snag.
I went through to the kitchen. The tiles were mushroom beige, which I hadn't been able to see before due to the accumulation of dust and grit that had lain on the floor. The kitchen sink and the worktop sparkled.
“You’re an angel, Robbie.” I cried out in glee, throwing my arms round him.
I stepped out into the back garden. The tall, wild grass had gone. I was enchanted to see that a beautiful garden path, of decorated stonework, ran all the way down to the far end of the large garden. To the right of the house, running all the way down to
the far end where the grounds met the woods, were rambling roses, delicate urns, and pots of garden flowers. On the other side was a vegetable patch, though I doubted anything grew there at present in its neglected state. But the potential was there to cultivate potatoes and sweetcorn, strawberries and tomatoes. Suddenly I was starting to feel all domesticated and homely. I didn't know if this was a good thing or not.
The glass windows of the greenhouse glinted in the sunshine. The structure was octagonal, with a pointed roof. It was really rather large, much bigger than a normal garden greenhouse. I would deck it out, I dreamed, with garden chairs and a chaise longue, to laze on during those pleasing sunny afternoons when the only company needed is a good book and a glass of fine wine.
I turned back to Robbie. He was gazing at me, a solemn expression still etched across his face. Considering that the stormy clouds had shifted, he was obviously affected by something else apart from the earlier threat of rain.
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" I asked. "Or am I going to have to play guessing games to try and figure out what's troubling you?"
"I didn't want to worry you," he began, as he rifled through the pockets of his jeans, "but considering that I've stumbled across two of these letters in the last two days, I think you should read them yourself and then consider the possible danger you're in."
I didn't have to look at the slips of paper to know that they would contain cut-out newspaper letters, strung together in menacing phrases. Nevertheless, I took them from Robbie's hands and opened each.
The first read:
"HOLLEYWOOD STARLET FOUND STRANGLED IN COUNTRY COTTAGE…"
With shaking hands I fumbled with the second scroll. The brash, intimidating letters jarred up at me:
"CHANTELLE ROSE, YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CANNOT HIDE."
I remained silent for a while. I doubted now that the eerie phone call I'd received was a coincidence. I also doubted that Catty was behind the threat.
"Do you remember the day you came looking for me and caught me when I jumped onto the garage roof?"
Robbie nodded at the memory. Everything considered, it was probably quite hard to forget.
"Did you come across anyone along the lane or nearby when you approached?" Robbie shook his head slowly.
"Well," I continued, "these aren't the first of these letters. I got the first one that day, and when I heard you I assumed it was the person behind the threats. That's why I jumped out the window, to escape. Do you think Catty could be behind it? It makes sense, considering that I stuffed her boyfriend's getaway."
Robbie continued to shake his head.
"It can't be Catty," he said softly. "Her parents packed her off to a distant relative up in Aberdeen the very day the police hauled her boyfriend in."
A shiver ran down my back on hearing his words. I'd blindly assumed that the letters were just the simple result of Catty's spiteful anger because I'd frustrated her and her lover-boy's plans.
But if Catty wasn't behind the letters, I was in more trouble that I imagined.
"I'm going to the police." I said. And with that, shoulders squared, I turned on my heel and headed back out to the parked van.
***
Robbie insisted on coming with me, and we arrived together at the local police station, which was smaller than the garage at the cottage. It hit me that crime was doubtless pretty rare in this tiny village. Indeed, the officer who attended me looked like he should have retired years ago. I couldn't see him doing a full-out sprint down the country lane decked out in his Bobby’s uniform, especially wearing one of those towering helmets.
I did wonder if he had a spare truncheon that I could borrow and hide under my pillow, just in case someone broke into the house whilst I slept.
I was given the full run-down of policing principles, which was of no relevance to me whatsoever. Finally, I was told that without some evidence of who the letter sender might be, there was little or nothing that they could do, except patrol the area from time to time.
After wasting much of the afternoon dawdling at the constabulary and getting nowhere, I left with Robbie and privately wondered if it would be easier to get a hunter's licence so that I could blow the brains out of anyone who so much as sneezed on my land. Inwardly, however, I knew I was in such a state that buying a gun was not a good idea. If I heard anything in the garden I'd probably wipe out the entire rabbit population in one day.
At the same time, I was determined not to let the threatening notes get on top of me. There had to be some sort of reasonable explanation behind it all, I was sure, and I was adamant to find out. I was beginning to understand why my dad used to always say I was as stubborn as a donkey! I'd knocked Catty off my suspect list, unless she could astral-project, and my imagination hadn't yet reached that extreme. Without Catty heading my file of possible felons, and her lover boy behind bars, there was actually no one else I could think of who could be behind such threats. Unless, of course, I suddenly realised, there was someone in the village who'd been keen on buying the cottage, and I'd innocently gone and ruined it for them. With this idea fresh in my mind, I turned to Robbie.
"Robbie, your family runs the estate agents. Was there anyone else interested in purchasing the cottage who could now feel angry enough to threaten me?"
Robbie shook his head. "The only person who was interested in that cottage, and who had always dreamt of owning it one day, was me."
He smiled at me sadly, his bright blue eyes glistened slightly and for an apprehensive split second I thought he might just break down and cry. I suddenly felt thoroughly guilty. I'd bought the house on a whim. I hadn't really even thought about the consequences. My mind wasn't even properly focused on the house refurbishments. It was just something to occupy my time until I flew back out to the States. And to think of all the work Robbie had put in on the cottage. Just for me. I cringed.
"What were your plans for the house?" I asked with genuine curiosity. Had he planned to use it as a personal residence? Or to set it up as a rural getaway for tourists? This actually had been my underlying idea – a nice little earner for me when I wasn't living in the place myself – though of course, I hadn't really thought that through either. With another cringe of shame I realised I'd been treating the cottage like a toy, whereas to Robbie it was almost a living, breathing thing.
He gazed into the distance, lost in his thoughts. I’d crushed his dream in less than a week.
"I planned to convert the garage into private lodgings. Then some distance behind the greenhouse, which I don't think you've actually seen yet, is a derelict stable which I planned to reform, together with the main house, and then offer an all-in-one vocational horse-riding camp to holidaymakers."
A derelict stable? I inwardly winced yet again. I hadn’t even bothered seeing the whole of the property.
He remained gazing out into the distance. He may have been Lionel's twin, but he was so much more solemn and aloof. Well, I guess it wasn't really surprising, considering his life-long dream had suddenly been wiped out. And by me, of all people, who had just stumbled across the house by chance a couple of months earlier.
As I took in his sombre profile it suddenly occurred to me that Robbie could well be the one behind the notes. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I scolded myself for being so distrustful. Nevertheless, as much as I tried to drive the thought from my mind, the more I started to have doubts. It made sense. He knew I'd been working in the States. Ray, who'd become an extended version of Tammy's shadow, would've informed him. Furthermore, I, myself, had innocently left Robbie my own phone number several days previously, before I'd driven to London to sort out my finances. On top of it all, wasn't it true that Robbie was the only person I ever came across down that country lane? And he always seemed to appear out of nowhere.
I couldn't stop the awful suspicion that it had to be him. And worst of all, I was driving us both back to the lonely country cottage because we'd planned together to unload the IKEA stuff from my van
. My imagination began to run hot and my blood began to run cold. Driving to the secluded house with Robbie was the last thing that appealed to me now. I was vividly aware that he'd probably have me out for the count before I stepped through the front door. On the other hand, I couldn't back out of our plan either, as I needed him to think that I didn't suspect him. If I alerted him to my thoughts I felt that I risked finding myself face down in the river.
I could feel his intense gaze on me as I drove down to the house. In an attempt to ignore his penetrating stare and get my mind as far as possible off the threatening letters, and the creepy feelings that were beginning to engulf me, I chattered non-stop about the most irrelevant thing that came to mind: Cricket. I don't know why I chose it as my topic of conversation, or what on earth I said to maintain a one-way rabbit which lasted the entire fifteen-minute drive to the cottage.
As I parked the van up the front drive, I braced myself for Robbie's pounce. What I wasn't prepared for were his words.
"I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
I had to do a quick double-take. For a split second I was convinced that Lionel was standing before me and I almost threw myself into his arms, which considering my new-found fears about Robbie would have been a bit like putting a gun to my own head. I laughed nervously at his remark. He clearly planned to woo me before going in for the kill. I couldn't stop shaking. And I'd run out of cricket commentary, too.
"Don't be a tease," I replied, my nervous laugh suddenly sounding hysterically loud as I attempted – somewhat in vain – to make light of the situation. "I look an exhausted wreck and I haven't slept for days. You, on the other hand, are a true gentleman, and I don't know what I would have done without all your help and support."
A Little of Chantelle Rose Page 15