Whistleblower
Page 55
CHAPTER 54
On Monday morning Jim took a taxi, a train to Bristol and another taxi to the hotel overlooking the Avon Gorge. Taking a seat by the window, he ordered coffee and told staff he was expecting to be joined by someone for lunch. Then he waited, looking at his watch and occasionally walking to the lobby and back. He felt nervous. But at ten minutes past one he looked, yet again, towards the doorway.
An elderly lady entered carrying a small handbag and wearing a navy blue skirt cream coloured blouse and a matching blue silk scarf tied neatly at her neck. She wore low, heeled shoes, her hair was grey and she stood motionless in the doorway. Jim was sure it was Margaret. It was her height and slim build. So he got up from his seat, knocking the glass tabletop and spilling his coffee as he did so. Then he walked towards her holding out his hands.
Margaret saw the movement but stayed where she was as Jim did his best to smile. And as he drew nearer he saw that her eyes stared at him as though she was not sure who it was. There was no recognition, no sign of a welcome and no hint that she might at least walk, just a step forward, to greet him.
Jim's voice that spoke her name was far smaller and quieter than he wanted it to be, but his eyes stung and his throat hurt. It was still hurting when he arrived back in Windsor.