CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
In spite of tossing and turning in bed all night, Anne overslept. It was nearly 9.30am by the time she was awoken by a vaguely familiar voice softly calling her name. To her astonishment, Mel Harvey was standing by the bed carrying a breakfast tray.
“I thought you might appreciate a little privacy,” the hotelier explained as she placed the tray, a trifle precariously, on the bedside table. “How are you?” Mel sat on the bed, regarding regarded her friend and paying guest not only with concern and sympathy but also ill-disguised curiosity.
Anne sat up and wiped her eyes clear of sleep residue. “I’m fine,” she lied, “But you shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. I hadn’t planned to take breakfast. There is so much to do.” An instant of panic hit her, but quickly passed. “I must go and see Owen if the police will let me. And Cathy, I must go and see here, and…Oh dear, it’s all so dreadful!”
She took deep breaths, determined not to cry. If I cry, I’ll fall apart and I mustn’t do that. I must be strong for Owen, Cathy too. She stubbornly blinked back tears, blaming weepy eyes on a shaft of brilliant sunshine where Mel had flung open the curtains.
“Cathy?” Mel’s tone told Anne that she knew nothing about the missing Lynette. Should she say anything? The news would get out in no time so…
Mel’s expression was one of sheer horror. “But they can’t possibly think...not of Owen, surely? He can’t have anything to do with the girl’s appearance. The very idea, it’s preposterous. But I suppose, what with the body they found in his garden, it’s only natural he’d be their prime suspect. Oh, my poor Anne, how terrible for you! All these years and now to discover that Owen, of all people…”
“Innocent until proven guilty, Mel.” Anne could have hit her, not least because she was weary of having to keep resorting to the much over-worked phrase awake and asleep. She was somewhat relieved, however, when a yawn took the sting out of her tone. Mel means well, of course she does.
“Of course, but…Well, you have to admit it’s not looking good for Owen, is it? I mean…I’m as fond of Owen as you are, but…They do say these people are experts at pulling the wool over people’s eyes, don’t they? I’m the last person to cast aspersions, but…You have to agree it’s all very…”
”Circumstantial,” said Anne emphatically.
“That’s as maybe, but there’s some will say the facts speak for themselves. First a body in the man’s garden and now young Lynette goes missing. I can’t believe it. I just cannot believe it, not of our Owen. I suppose I can say goodbye to fresh eggs for the foreseeable future too,” she added and gave a resounding groan as the afterthought hit home.
“I’ll see what I can do. But I know nothing about hens. I’ll have to ask Owen,” Anne told her friend with mounting impatience tempered only with dismay. “In the meantime, you’ll have to forgive me if I have rather more on my mind than eggs.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Oh, how thoughtless of me. I’ll leave you to have your breakfast in peace. Everything is just as you like it. I prepared it myself. Be sure to eat it all up. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. A good breakfast will see us through …whatever. Now, I must love and leave you. There’s a problem with some of the showers. Yesterday it was the top floor, today this one,” Mel wailed, “I must go and see if Joe has managed to sort out a plumber. Oh, why is it that it never rains but it pours?” she wailed again. “But you don’t want to hear about my problems. Now, you absolutely must feel free to call on me any time. If you want to talk, I’m here for you. You do know that, don’t you?” She leaned forwards and kissed Anne on the cheek.
“Thank you,” said Anne, fervently wishing that the other woman would just go away and leave her peace. If only Mel wouldn’t fuss so, especially first thing in the morning…
Mel left the room.
Anne regarded the breakfast tray with precious little enthusiasm for anything but the little teapot. She did, however, manage a slice of buttered toast before discovering, thankfully, that the shower was working. Although she would have preferred to take a long, hot bath, she enjoyed the shower and emerged refreshed and revitalised from it some ten minutes later. Wrapped in a towel, she sat on the edge of the bed, poured another cup of tea and sipped at it thoughtfully. Whatever should she do next? She desperately wanted to speak to Owen. At the same time, she was no less desperate to see Cathy.
Her eyes alighted on the mobile. Should she send Cathy a text just to let her know she was in her thoughts? That might be better than telephoning, mightn’t it? “Oh, but text messages are so impersonal,” she cried out passionately and felt oddly reassured by the sound of her own voice.
A sharp tap on the door was followed instantly by Charley Briggs sweeping into the room oozing concern and consternation. “Oh, my poor Anne, Mel has just told me. Poor little Lynette, and she’s such an adorable child too. My heart goes out to the poor parents, truly it does. Oh, that dreadful man. It makes my blood boil to think how he has deceived you all these years!” She sat down on the bed and engulfed Anne in an embrace.
“Are you okay, Anne?” A dishevelled Spence appeared in the doorway.
Anne managed to nod while, at the same time, attempting to exercise diplomacy as well as resolve in extricating herself from Charley’s not inconsiderable bulk. The more she tried to wriggle free, the tighter the grip of muscular arms around her. It crossed her mind, fleetingly, that Charley Briggs may be fat but no one could accuse the woman of being flabby. “I’m fine, Charley, really.” She found herself fighting for breath. “Now, let me go before I suffocate,” she added, but not unkindly.
Charley released her with an expression of abject apology. “I’m so, so sorry,” she said more than once although noticeably refusing to elaborate. “Is there anything, anything at all Spence and I can do?”
Anne couldn’t help herself. “Haven’t you done enough already?” she snapped and was immediately repentant. “Sorry. I know you meant well and perhaps it’s for the best. But I’ve been coming to this hotel for over twenty years. This is your second visit and already…”
“I know,” Charley interrupted, “But I had no idea things would happen the way they did, and once the ball started rolling it just wouldn’t stop.” She looked Anne in the eye. “I didn’t mean to stir up a hornet’s nest, honestly. If I’d known…”
“You’d have gone ahead anyway,” said Spence from the doorway.
“Who asked you for your opinion?” Charley retorted without even turning her head.
“I only meant…”
“I don’t care what you meant.”
“Have you two quarrelled?” Charley’s uncharacteristic coldness took Anne by surprise.
Charley’s hard expression softened. “Don’t mind Spence. He’s got the hump because the shower isn’t working. Looks a mess, doesn’t he?” She laughed but Anne was not convinced. In spite of everything, she had grown fond of the unlikely couple and hoped it was nothing more than a lover’s tiff.
Had Charley disapproved of her outing with Spence the previous evening, Anne wondered? Did she feel they had gone behind her back, deliberately excluded her? Anne experienced a twinge of guilt. It was true, after all. “I’m grateful to you for bringing things to a head,” she told the fat woman and realised she meant it. “You mustn’t blame yourself for anything, certainly not this terrible business with Lynette. Let’s pray she’ll turn up safe and sound, eh?”
“Oh, yes!” Charley cried but her face brightened.
It was, Anne reflected and not for the first time, a very attractive face, almost beautiful. “I need to get dressed…” she murmured.
“Then what…?” Charley could not resist asking.
“I need to go and see Cathy, and then Owen.”
“Are you sure that’s wise? I mean…won’t Cathy feel worse for seeing you? It will only remind her, surely? I mean…your Patricia and…what might have happened to poor Lynette, although God forbid anything has!”
“My turning up won’t make Cathy and Steve feel any worse than they already do,” Anne said with feeling, “Nothing will. Believe me, I know.”
“I realize that. I only thought…and Owen…do you really think it’s a good idea to go and see him?”
“Of course she has to go and see him, you stupid woman,” said Spence, “She needs to ask him…whatever…” he finished lamely, blushing a near beetroot colour.
Anne flung him a grateful look. Someone, at least, understood. “I won’t be long,” she told him, “I may have another cup of tea downstairs before I leave. I’ll give you a shout when I’m ready and you’re welcome to use my shower.”
“Really…? That would be great.” His boyish enthusiasm endeared him to Anne more than ever.
“I wouldn’t mind a shower myself,” murmured Charley
“You’re both very welcome,” said Anne.
“Bags I go first!” insisted Spence.
“Whatever happened to ‘ladies first’…?” Charley hurled at him.
“You wanted equality, you’ve got it,” Spence tossed back at her before leaving the room.
“Sometimes I wonder about that boy,” muttered Charley with a weak smile.
“He’s a very nice man,” Anne told her in all seriousness, “You’re lucky to have him.”
“That’s the trouble,” Charley admitted ruefully, “I know I am.” She got to her feet. “I could use another cup of tea myself.” She beamed, and Anne was relieved to see the old Charley back. True, she could be irritating, but she was also a feel-good factor for which, in the circumstances, Anne was grateful.
Charley left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Anne dressed, only marginally less apprehensive about the day ahead, but more confident that she could handle and confront head-on whatever it might choose to throw at her. Later, after a strong cup of tea in the café downstairs, she was surprised to see Spence coming across the lobby towards her. He had a newspaper tucked under one arm, was smiling and…on his own.
“Charley’s taking a shower. Thanks for the use of, by the way. I feel a lot better for it. Hopefully, the Harveys will get things sorted before too long. So…I’m ready if you are. I’m all yours. Just say the word and I’ll drive you wherever you want to go. I collected the car earlier, so no worries.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Charley?”
Spence grinned. “Do you really want to? Don’t get me wrong. I adore every inch of Charley’s voluptuous flesh, but she will make a habit of shoving those big feet of hers where they’re not always appreciated.”
“She’ll be cross, upset even.”
“She’ll get over it. Shall we go?” he offered Anne his arm. She took it with immense relief. She hadn’t realized just how much she was dreading having to face the day ahead alone.
At Hillcrest, Spence shook his head when Anne invited him to accompany her inside. “I’ll wait in the car. It’s no problem. I’ll just sit here and read the paper, in peace and quiet for a change.” He flung her a rueful grin. “Charley thinks newspapers are a load of capitalist propaganda…in other words, bullshit.”
“She may well have a point,” Anne observed smiling.
“True. But just because people like me enjoy reading a daily newspaper doesn’t mean we have to believe a word it prints, does it?”
“I suppose not,” Anne agreed, laughing. The sound came as something as a surprise to her but helped settle her nerves, for which she was very grateful to the young man sitting beside her.
“Take as long as you need,” he told her, “and if Charley takes it into her head to gatecrash, I’ll toot on the horn three times. You can make a quick get-away down the back stairs and I’ll meet you at the rear.”
“Hollywood should get to hear about this,” she joked nervously.
“I wish!” Spence exclaimed, grin stretching from ear to ear, “I’ve always fancied myself as a movie star.”
Still chuckling, Anne climbed out of the vehicle and climbed the few steps to the hotel entrance. Once inside, her good spirits evaporated and she could feel her heart pounding against her chest. She felt in a pocket for her mobile phone. Should she call first, she wondered? Or ask the woman at Reception to warn the Taylors she was on her way?
Deciding against either course of action, she headed for the lift and consulted a floor plan on the wall. She frowned, recalling how it was when Patricia disappeared. She had so wanted to see people, talk to them, be comforted. But a demon had settled on her shoulder. She had refused to see anyone, pushed everyone away…including Tom, she reflected guiltily.
Outside, in the car, Spencer started at the sound of his mobile ring tone. The tiny screen told him it was Charley calling. He turned it off. This was no place for Charley and he hated lying to her, although she had probably have guessed their whereabouts. No, Anne needed to see this through on her own. Charley must be patient. Her time would come. “God knows, poor Anne will need a shoulder to cry on before this day is through,” he told a splash of rain on the windscreen.
Meanwhile, at room number forty-two on the fifth floor, Anne struggled to compose herself.
She knocked.
A tall woman Anne did not recognize opened the door and stared enquiringly at her.
“My name is Anne Gates…” she began.
“Anne!” a cry exploded in her ears and Cathy appeared at the tall woman’s side. “I knew you’d come. Didn’t I tell you?” she told the tall woman who looked slightly disapproving but stepped aside.
Cathy flung herself into Anne’s waiting arms. “It’s so awful,” she kept saying as Anne led her gently into the room. It was a much larger room than hers at the Orion and included a separate bedroom. After sitting Cathy down on a sofa, Anne settled herself next to her, the distraught mother’s arms still clinging to her neck.
The tall woman hovered uncertainly. “Shall I order some tea?”
“Oh, sorry,” Cathy mumbled, “Leah Jackson…Anne Gates…Leah’s here to keep an eye on me, make sure I don’t jump out of a window or something…” she laughed and Anne winced. It was a horrible sound.
“If there are any developments, my colleagues will let me know at once so I’ll be able to pass on any news as it happens,” the tall woman explained with a shy, nervous smile.
Anne decided that she liked the policewoman and smiled back. “Where’s Steve?” she asked Cathy tentatively.
“Out looking for Lynette,” Cathy sobbed, “He’s been out all night. We had a terrible quarrel, about nothing really. I went to check on Lynette and…she was gone! Oh, Anne where is she? Where is she? Oh, I wish Steve was here. He got angry when he found out that Owen had been spending time with you and Lynette. I didn’t tell him because I knew how he’d react and things were starting to go so well between us. Well, you know all that. Now he blames me, I know he does. But Owen seemed such a nice man. How was I supposed to know he was capable of something like this?”
“We don’t know for sure,” Anne mumbled ineffectually.
Cathy broke away abruptly and stared at Anne, tear-stained eyes blazing. “You’re not defending him, you of all people? You can’t. The man’s a monster. Oh, Lynette, Lynette!” she sobbed, jerking her heaving shoulders away from Anne’s touch as if scolded by it.
Anne looked enquiringly at the policewoman.
“Lynette was last seen leaving the hotel with a man,” DC Leah Jackson told her. We don’t have a positive identification yet though,” she added.
“It has to be Owen,” Cathy sobbed, “Who else would it be? My Lynette wouldn’t go off with just anyone. She wouldn’t, she just wouldn’t…”
The sobs began to cease, only to be replaced by a pitiful moaning noise that cut Anne to the quick. She longed to offer comfort, reassurance. But how could she, she of all people? Everyone had insisted Patricia would be found alive and well. She mustn’t worry, they said. Not worry? She had wanted to wring their necks. Instead she had clung to false hopes, clutched at whatever straws she could…and hated every kind face she saw with such intensity it had finally driven to that place where the surreal breaks away from the real and the mind takes refuge in cartoon fantasy. She had been sectioned for six months.
“I’ll be in touch,” Anne murmured helplessly.
“You’re not staying?” Leah Jackson seemed surprised. If she’d had reservations about the Gates woman’s presence initially, she had none now.
“Do you want me to stay?” Anne asked Cathy.
“You’re going to see him, aren’t you?” Cathy flared, “You’re going to see that beast, that monster Owen Shepherd?” She was on her feet now, screaming accusingly at Anne. “You’re as bad as he is. If you hadn’t come along and barged into our lives, none of this would have happened. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” She turned away and stumbled, sobbing hysterically, into the policewoman’s arms.
Over Cathy’s shoulder, Leah Jackson gave Anne a warning but sympathetic look that clearly said suggested she should leave.
Anne left.
Cathy would have been offered a sedative, Anne reflected grimly. Obviously, she had refused to take anything. It was all so perverse. You long for oblivion, for the nightmare to end. But then you only have to deal with it all over again when you come to. It seems the lesser evil to see the nightmare through to the bitter end. Only, the ending, if it comes at all, is not always a happy one. Oh, eventually, nature would take its course and Cathy would collapse with exhaustion, find some brief respite in sleep. Then she would feel guilty for sleeping, guilty for not staying awake, guilty for …just about everything.
Anne dived into a toilet at the stop of the stairs and just made it to the washbasin before being violently sick. Pull yourself together, Gates, or you’ll be no use to anyone, yourself included, she reprimanded herself without a trace of humour.
By the time she returned to the car, she was shaking but relatively calm.
“You look terrible,” Spence told her with a wicked smile that instantly reassured her. “Was it bad?” Anne nodded. “Are you sure you want me to run you to the police station? We could find a pub instead. You look as if you could use another large brandy.”
“Later,” Anne told him, “First, I need to see Owen. Then, if the offer’s still open, I just might take you up on it.”
“They probably won’t let you see him,” he felt obliged to warn her although he suspected she knew the score well enough.
“Maybe they will, maybe they won’t. Whatever, I have to try,” she said with a certainty Spence found very moving. “...before I go mad,” she added between clenched teeth as they drove off.
To be continued on Friday.
