CHARLOTTE Richardâs whole manner screams of tension.
Francis taps keys. âIâm already on it, Richard.â peering at her laptop screen. âHer phone is showing up as being in Berkeley Street.â
Richard? She always calls him âMr Haswellâ.
âIs that where you and she were shopping?â he asks me.
âJust around the corner, yes.â
âFrancis, give the exact location to Ross.â and back to his phone. âRoss, did you catch all that? Yes, go and find her.â Brow furrowed, he is pale.
âRichard, whatâs wrong?â asks my Master.
âElizabeth was kidnapped once. Ever since then, Iâve always kept an eye on more or less where she isâ¦. Part of Rossâ job description is to be, essentially, her bodyguard. Charlotte, did anything odd happen while you were out with her?â
âUm, not odd exactly. There were men looking at her, but they were looking at all the women. I thought they were justâ¦. well, looking at women.â
âDid you say anything to Elizabeth about it?â
âEr, no.â I gulp, hanging my head. âI should have, shouldnât I?â
Richard looks at me over his glasses. âYou werenât to know, but for future reference Charlotte, be suspicious. It comes naturally to you anyway, and itâs a skill you should hone, not damp down.â
âWhy was Beth abducted before?â asks my Master. âFor ransom?â
âOn that occasion, no. It was someone with a grudge against me, but ransom is always a possibility of course.â
âHow did you get her back?â
âTracked her phone.â¦â
Richard paces up and down. In less than five minutes, his mobile rings again. âYes? Noâ¦. Oh, God!
Yes, have a look around for anything else, then come back here to the office Ross, if you would.â
He switches off his phone, looking sick. âElizabethâs phone was in a refuse bin on Berkeley Street, along with her bag.â
For a moment he almost sags, looking reduced. Then, swiping hands through his hair, he stands up straight again. âFrancis, call Will Stanton would you. Report Elizabeth as missing.â
My Master is shaking his head, unbelieving. âRichard, is there anything we can do?â
âCharlotte, these men you saw, âlooking at womenâ. Do you think you could identify them?â
âUm, I wasnât really looking at them, but I can try.â
âYou werenât looking?â
Feeling very awkward now, âWhen some guy youâre not interested in, tries to eye you up, you look the other way.â¦â
The office phone rings, Francis answering. âRichard, itâs Will for you.â
He takes the phone. âHello, Will. Yes, yes thatâs right. Within the last two hours. Yes, she was with friends, Charlotte actually, out shopping. Charlotteâs come back, but Elizabeth didnât get to her rendezvous with Rossâ¦â¦ Yes, thatâs right. Charlotteâs here. She thinks she saw men looking while they were out, and that she might recognise the faces. Yesâ¦. Iâm sure she would look through the photos if you can bring them hereâ¦.â He glances over at me, and I nod vigorously. âYes, thanks. Iâll be here at the office.â
He passes the phone back to Francis and sits back on the desk edge, head back, breathing deeply with his eyes closed. My Master and I stand helplessly by. Then Richard stands again, pulling himself straight. âSorry about that,â he says. âIâm no good to her if I panic.â
âWhat would you like me to do?â I ask.
âWillâs sending an officer over with photos of known suspects for ransom, abduction and similar. If you could take the time to look through themâ¦.â
âYes, of course.â
âShall I send out for something to eat?â asks Francis.
âYes please, Francis. It could be a long night.â
âIâll let Michael know whatâs happening.â says my Master. âDonât want him panicking too.â
Within fifteen minutes, I am sitting in the conference room, once more, scanning faces. This is becoming a habit.
An hour later I am still there, my Master sitting across from me, occasionally sipping coffee and â¦.
I freeze over a face. The police officer says, âRecognise him?â
The face is older, more lined, the hair receding and greyer, butâ¦
âYes, but not from today.â
âThen where?â
âThis man was at Blessingmoors. He was one of the staff there when I was a kid.â
The officer checks the reference and taps it into his laptop. âHeâs an identified trafficker. And heâs also known to be in this area now. Weâve been keeping an eye on him, but could never pin a conviction on himâ¦.â He taps more keys.
ââ¦. he has a number of known associatesâ¦â He keeps tapping.
Both Richard and my Master are bending behind over me, watching over my shoulder. The officer swings his laptop to me. âCould you look through those, please. See if any of them look familiar.â
I click through half a dozen faces, thenâ¦.â Thatâs one of them. One of the men I saw today.â
My Master straightens up. âFuck!â
Richard drops a hand on my shoulder. âCharlotte, Iâm sorry. It looks as though they took Elizabeth by mistake. They were after you. They abducted the wrong woman.â
He turns to Michael. âGet her out of here, out of the City. Take her back to your mountain place. No-
oneâs going to fall across that by accident. She should be safe there.â
âHang on.â I protest. âI donât want to hide away. I should be helping here. And Bethâs my friend too.â
My Master swings a long finger in my direction. âGo with Michael. We have things to do here, and Iâll work better when Iâm not worrying about whatâs happening to you. If youâre with Michael, I know youâre safe.â
âIâm not some kid to be packed off to bed. And I looked after myself quite nicely long before I ever met you.â
âCharlotte. Iâm not arguing. Youâre going. Michaelâ¦.â
Michael takes me by the wrist, pulling me towards him. âAre you going to come without arguing? Or do I have to sling you over my shoulder and carry you out? Believe me, in this case, I will.â
There is no way I can physically resist Michael. What choice do I have?
Reluctantly, I gather my dignity and leave with him. But I donât have to like it. As we drive up the steep mountain road, narrow and bending, I stare out of the passenger window, unspeaking.
âAre you going to keep that up all day?â he asks. âThereâs no point sulking at me just because you donât like the realities.
âAnd how would you feel in my situation?â
âIt hardly matters. Iâm not in your situation. He rubs my thigh with his non-driving hand. âCome on. I know youâre not happy about it, but James really will cope better without you there. So will Richard. So, why donât you make the best of a bad job and at least try to cheer up?â
Heâs right of course. And I shouldnât take it out on himâ¦.
I paint on a smile and turn it on Michael, full power, total dazzle.
He grins. âThatâs my girlâ¦. Hey, how do you feel about picking out a Christmas tree from the woods at the back? We can at least get the place looking good.â
âGreat idea.â
*****
Several hours later, our kitchen/lounge/living space smells pleasantly of pine and resin. The chosen tree did not put up much resistance in the face of Michaelâs axe, and now it has succumbed to my efforts to trim it up for Christmas.
We have no real decorations, and Michael refuses point blank to even consider going to buy any, so I have trawled through old cupboards, draws and hidey-holes in the hotel to see if I could find anything that would pass for Christmas decor. The result is odd, but colourful, as Michael, suddenly revealing a talent for origami, has shown me how to make stars and birds by folding paper. Using brightly coloured pages from old magazines has produced stars and birds the like of which nature never saw, but on our tree, they look great.
âNo candles,â he says. After all the work Iâve put in here, I donât want to accidentally set light to the place now.â
*****
MICHAEL Sitting by the kitchen range that evening, its heat warding off the bitter cold of the December night, I watch Charlotte, happily making more paper birds, like some little girl at school.
âWhy are you looking at me like that?â
âLike what?â
âAs though youâre trying to work something outâ¦â
âPerhaps because I am trying to work something out.â
She says nothing, simply gives me a questioning look, but her âpretty and innocentâ mask fades to her âferalâ face; that expression that says, this is who she is, and to hell with anyone who doesnât like it.
And James thinks sheâs a subâ¦.
âIâm trying to join the dotsâ¦. make sense of you.â
Now she looks surprised. âMe?â
âYes, you.â
âI donât follow.â Suddenly, she looks worried. âYouâre not annoyed with me about something, are you?â
In my driest voice, âNo more than usual.â
She grins. âWhat then?â
âItâs hard to put into words. I saw you, earlier, back in the offices, facing off me, James and Richard, over something you feel strongly aboutâ¦.â I point a finger at herâ¦. âAnd by the way, Iâm not fooled by your apparent surrender.â¦â