by Agatha Frost
Julia handed her last poster to an old lady sat on a bench in the shade of a tree. Even being of a similar age to the people on the pamphlet wasn’t enough to make her care. She barely glanced at it before shaking her head, and when Julia insisted she keep it, the woman screwed it up and tossed it into the metal bin next to the bench.
“I’m out too,” Jessie said, joining Julia on the bench when the woman shuffled off, only to sit on the next along the row. “I know people can be rude, but tourists take it to a whole new level. You’d think we were trying to sell them something.”
“They probably think that’s what we’re doing.” Julia pointed out the men up and down the promenade, trying to get people into their restaurants and bars. “We’d probably get more attention if we were selling boat trips with every missing poster.”
“I think I know a guy with enough money to make that happen,” Jessie said, nudging Julia with her arm. “He made quite a bit of money selling a book, and I’m quite friendly with his wife. Might be able to twist their arms.”
“You’re funnier on holiday.”
“It must be the vitamin D.” Jessie showed off her arms, which were even more tanned than the Peridale summer could account for. “But seriously, have you . . .”
“Considered trying to pay the ransom?” Julia finished the sentence for her. “Believe me, if we had the money, we would, but we don’t. Even with my savings and Barker’s, we’re nowhere near.”
“I have twelve hundred saved up,” Jessie offered. “I would happily—”
“A kind offer,” Julia jumped in, resting her hand on Jessie’s shoulder, “but we’d still be miles away. If I could sell the house that quickly, I would. Believe me, I’d do anything to get my gran back, and yet the only thing I can do isn’t making any difference.”
“It might.” Jessie sighed and smiled up at the sun. “Should we go back? It’s almost easier to ignore what we’re missing when it’s not being shoved in our faces. I’m sick of seeing happy people.”
“Me too.” Julia slapped her knees and pushed herself up, groaning involuntarily; for once, Jessie didn’t point it out. “Thanks for suggesting the ice cream. It was nice to sit down.”
“Someone had to suggest it, and I knew it was never going to be you.” Jessie sprang up with the vigour that never failed to make Julia feel old. “I’ll even let us get a taxi back. Taking the steps down almost killed you.”
“Because I’m unbelievably old?”
“Because you’re unbelievably pregnant.” Jessie poked her in the ribs as they set off to the taxi rank on the corner. “I don’t always go for the lowest hanging fruit, you know. It’s not my fault that sometimes the meanest thing to say is also the funniest.”
“Sounds like my gran.” Julia couldn’t help but smile. “Her sharp tongue can leave you laughing or crying, but she never means any harm. I’d give anything to hear one of her icy put-downs right about now.”
“And she’d finish it with a bounce of her curls.”
“Or a fiddle of her brooch.” Julia’s smile turned to laughter. “And then she’d vanish as quickly as she arrived, leaving everyone to wonder if they should take offence.”
They secured the nod of approval from the driver in the white taxi at the front of the row of six and climbed into the back.
“La Casa hotel, please.”
The driver nodded and pulled away from the kerb. If the car had air conditioning, he didn’t turn it on, so Julia wound the window down. Once they’d crawled away from the rush of the seafront, they whizzed up to Savega through the twisting, tight roads and the warm breeze whipped at Julia’s hair.
“Look what Alfie sent me,” Jessie called over the sound of the wind, handing her phone over. “Fresh off the press, by the looks of it.”
Julia shielded her eyes from the sun and squinted at the screen. It was a picture of an issue of The Peridale Post, with the headline ‘COME HOME DOT AND PERCY’ accompanied by individual pictures of them both. There was a third image, which Julia had to pinch the screen to zoom in to see. Eight Peridale residents were holding a sheet of paper with a single letter on it. Together, they spelt out ‘COME HOME’. She had been away from home for so long, she didn’t notice they were standing in her café right away.
Julia wasn’t sure if she wanted to smile or cry, but she knew one thing for certain: she missed home.
“Everyone’s probably worried sick,” Julia said, handing the phone back. “I should call to thank them.”
“I don’t think anyone expects that.” Jessie’s fingers tapped away on the screen at a speed that still shocked Julia. “Besides, this morning I called everyone that matters to give them updates so you wouldn’t have to. Katie’s doing fine at the café, and she’s keeping Mowgli alive. Might not have been the right thing to do, but I also convinced your dad and sister to stay put, at least for now.”
“Definitely the right thing to do,” Julia said without a second thought. “As much as they’d want to help, they’d only complicate things.” She paused before reaching out and grabbing Jessie’s hand, adding, “I’m glad you’re here, though.”
“Because I make you laugh?”
“Amongst other things.”
“You’ll get the invoice for my clown services when we get back home.” Jessie smiled wryly. “We will go home, and when we do, Dot and Percy will be with us. I can feel it.”
Julia wished she shared Jessie’s youthful optimism, but since she couldn’t bring herself to agree, she turned to look through the window. Time and time again, life had proven that the worst-case scenario could happen. As much as she wanted to believe everything would work out, a nagging voice in her mind told her not to be so naïve.
Unless a bag of cash fell from the sky and into their laps in the next four days, they’d have no reason to advertise a tractor in the post office window like the ransom note had demanded. Julia hadn’t allowed her imagination to consider what might happen when it came time for their flights home. She couldn’t bear the possibility that she’d seen her gran for the last time.
The taxi pulled up outside La Casa, thankfully breaking her morose train of thought. The driver tapped the metre. Twenty-two euros. A special inflated price for the tourists, she assumed. The same length journey in Peridale would have cost five pounds, if that. But Julia didn’t complain. She pulled twenty-five euros from her barely touched holiday money and told him to keep the change. Three euros wasn’t going to make much difference when one hundred thousand were on the line.
As soon as they climbed out of it, the taxi sped off towards the plaza. A police car pulled up almost as quickly, with Sub-Inspector Castro behind the wheel. Minnie climbed out of the backseat, looking more than a little the worse for wear. Castro smiled tightly at Julia before following the taxi down the lane.
Minnie stared up at the hotel, and then at Julia and Jessie. She looked dazed and very bewildered.
“We only just got back,” Julia explained, wrapping her arm around her great-aunt’s shoulders. “Why don’t we go inside and get you a cup of tea?”
“Something stronger, I think,” she replied with a shaky nod, letting Julia lead her inside.
“I’ll make cocktails,” said Jessie.
Julia didn’t bother telling Jessie not to make Minnie’s as potent as she’d made her own the day before. Her entire body vibrated under Julia’s touch, no doubt from exhaustion. If she’d slept at all, the dark bags under her weary eyes were betraying how poor that rest had been.
“There’s no change,” Minnie announced as she settled into a wicker chair in the sunroom, her distant gaze fixed on something out in the valley. “They said the surgery went well, but she still isn’t waking up.”
Jessie retreated to the bar in the corner of the dining room, leaving them alone. Julia pulled up a chair next to her great-aunt. Minnie smiled at her, her tired eyes softening.
“Thank you, Julia,” she said softly. “If you hadn’t found her when you did, she would have bled
to death right there on the kitchen floor.”
“I was lucky,” she said. “I almost didn’t see her.”
“But you did.” Minnie’s eyes returned to the valley. “If it had been down to me to find her, she’d already be dead, that’s for sure. After our tiff, I swore I wouldn’t talk to her until she apologised. Can you believe that?”
“You weren’t to know this would happen.”
“It shouldn’t have taken something like this for me to realise how wrong that is.” Minnie smiled sadly, her pain clear. “I’ve been relying on that girl far too much since my Bill died. Instead of learning to do things myself, I let Lisa fill the hole Bill left behind. I never even asked her to take on so much, I just expected it. I knew she’d never say no. What kind of mother does that make me?”
Julia didn’t know how to answer. She’d noticed as much with her own eyes, but now wasn’t the time to add to Minnie’s guilt. Thankfully, Jessie walked in with the tray of cocktails and Minnie perked up a little.
“I didn’t want to come home,” Minnie explained after a sip of her bright orange cocktail. “The doctors told me to get some rest and a change of clothes, and I don’t think they were giving me much choice. I’ve probably been getting under their feet this whole time, just trying to be by her side.” She took another sip. “Oh, you should see her, Julia! All those tubes and wires—”
“Best not to think about it.”
“I didn’t know how I was going to get back,” she continued, pausing for another gulp. “Money for a taxi was the last thing on my mind when I left. They offered to let me use the phone, but I had no one to call. I don’t know any numbers. Not even the hotel’s! Bill always dealt with the phones, and I . . .”
Minnie’s voice trailed off, tears following in the wake of her words. She sniffed them back, plucked the straw and umbrella from the cocktail, and drank deeply from the rim.
“I don’t deserve to be upset,” she said after slamming the empty cup down on the table. “Not while my daughter is fighting for her life. Everything she said during our argument was the truth. I’ve been living my life like I’m on permanent holiday since long before Bill died. I should have thrown in the towel back then, but instead, I let my daughter sacrifice her life so her washed-up, has-been mother could keep the party going.”
“Minnie, it’s best not to get yourself worked up.”
“Maybe that’s what I need.” Her blank stare drifted from the valley to the empty pool. “At least Arlo is behind bars. That lovely copper fella . . . What’s his name? Caster?”
“Castro,” Julia corrected. “Sub-Inspector Castro.”
“That’s it.” She nodded. “I would have been stuck at the hospital if he hadn’t come to take my statement. Nice man offered me a lift back, so I took it.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Everything.” She sighed. “About Lisa catching Arlo stealing and how I had to fire him because of it.”
“And you’re certain Arlo could have done it?”
“Castro asked me that same question.” Minnie frowned at the floor. “If they hadn’t found his watch at the scene, I wouldn’t have believed it. He worked in that kitchen for a decade and we never had any issues with him. He’d get angry, certainly, but Bill said that was true of most chefs. Arlo claimed it was because he was passionate about his food.” She paused and reached for her drink but stopped when she realised it was empty. “Castro said they were going to charge him, most likely. I guess you never really know a person.”
Julia wanted to push, to find out more about Arlo, but she decided against it. The last thing Minnie needed was yet another interrogation about the man who had been arrested for attempting to murder her daughter.
“Sooner I get myself together, sooner I can get back to the hospital.” Minnie rose slowly. “Julia, would you walk me back to my room?”
Minnie held out an arm for Julia to link with, so she accepted. They walked slowly and silently through the dining room, and then to the door behind the reception desk. They took the narrow staircase upwards, which brought them to a small landing with three doors.
“I want you to help me with something,” Minnie said, opening the door to the right. “Wait in here. I won’t be two minutes.”
Julia ventured into the darkened room, which appeared to be a self-contained flat. When she pushed the curtains aside, a large window revealed yet another stunning view of the valley.
The room, clearly Minnie’s quarters, was decorated unlike anything else in the hotel, with rich, red damask wallpaper, dark wood furniture, and an overwhelming number of framed pictures on the walls. The sofa, cushions, rugs, and throws were all different animal prints that clashed so completely it somehow worked.
Julia examined the wall with the most pictures, instantly recognising some of the modelling headshots as ones she’d received, autographed, in the post for so many years. Many were new to her. In her own way, Minnie was still beautiful, but there was no denying the camera had loved her during her prime.
Amongst the modelling pictures were shots of Minnie with other people. Minnie’s age varied more in these candid shots. In most, she’d been photographed with instantly recognisable people. Every picture appeared to have been taken at a party or a function. To Julia’s surprise, most of the famous faces from Minnie’s wild stories were up on the wall, smiling down at her.
Minnie returned with a laptop jammed under her arm, but Julia didn’t immediately move away from the wall.
“Oh, those were the days,” Minnie said, longing in her voice. “I know it’s hard to believe, but before I turned into this old woman, I was something. I was an it girl much longer than I had a right to be. Life and soul of the party, they’d call me, but as it turns out, even I had an expiration date. Even the most expensive cheese goes off eventually.”
“I don’t suppose any of them would be willing to donate one hundred thousand euros to a worthy cause?”
Minnie chuckled. “Most could probably do it and not notice the expense, but they’re the kind of people who call you, not the other way around. And let me tell you, it’s been a long time since anyone called.”
“Your stories made it sound like you were quite close to some of them.”
“Embellished, my dear.” She sighed, eyes darting from picture to picture. “I was just another party girl. There to fill the room and keep things lively. Took me an embarrassingly long time to realise that. In the early days, I thought I was there to network, to further my career. People would introduce me as ‘upcoming model and actress, Minnie Harlow’. Eventually, they dropped the tagline. I became ‘You remember Minnie, don’t you? Surely you’ve met?’ I once overheard Simon Cowell say ‘that woman would turn up to the opening of an envelope’. He was right. It should have upset me, but it didn’t – I didn’t care.” She sat on the sofa, her back to the wall. “My showbiz career was never up or coming, no matter how many famous people I rubbed shoulders with. By the time the wrinkles started showing up, it was clear my career was never going to take off like I wanted it to. In the end, being close to the light was enough for me. Sad, isn’t it? I’m a widow with three failed marriages, and my most prized possessions are a bunch of photographs in an empty, failing hotel. None of those people could remember me if their lives depended on it. I should have filled my walls with pictures of my daughter. Instead, I memorialized my delusions. If she ever wakes up, I wouldn’t even blame her if she never wanted to talk to me again.”
Julia left the gallery wall and sat next to her great-aunt.
“I’m sure that’s not going to happen,” she reassured her. “I might not know her, but I could tell she didn’t hate you from the way she talked about you. Frustrated, yes, but hate? That’s not the impression I got.”
“That’s kind of you to say.” She patted Julia’s leg. “There’s no relationship more complicated than that between a mother and a daughter, as I’m sure you know.”
“My mother died when I was twelve.”
“Of course.” Minnie exhaled and blinked tightly. “I was heartbroken when I heard about Pearl.”
“You knew her?”
Minnie nodded. “She was about five years younger than me, but you know what Peridale is like. Everyone knows everyone in that village. I was at your parents’ wedding. They were so young but so clearly in love.” Her smile turned wistful. “Albert and I also grew up without a mother. She died when we were very young. Our father only waited eight months to remarry. We used to call her the ‘wicked stepmother’ – not to her face, of course. She’d give us a swift slap for so much as breathing too loudly at the dinner table. She was a headmistress without a single ounce of patience for children.” Minnie’s expression turned sad. “I was so proud of never laying a finger on Lisa. It was something I held onto. I wasn’t like that woman. I probably inherited some of my aloofness from my stepmother, but I never hit the girl. And now I can’t even say that.”
Minnie lifted a shaky hand to her mouth, obviously holding back tears.
“The night before she was stabbed,” Minnie continued, “she came in here. Rare in itself. She tried to tell me she couldn’t keep running everything. I didn’t want to hear it. I was too busy listening to my old records. She was killing my mood. I even said that to her. Can you imagine?” Minnie looked stricken as if she couldn’t even recognise the woman she’d been only a short time earlier. “I saw the snap in her eyes. I pushed her too far, and she pushed back. She laid it all out for me, every one of my flaws, and boy oh boy, was she honest. She might as well have held a mirror up to my soul.” Minnie’s shaking hand closed at her side. “I slapped her right across the face, and she didn’t say a word. She just walked out. Didn’t even slam the door.” Her searching gaze went to Julia. “What if that’s the last moment I ever get with her? What if—”