She must have dozed only for when she woke it was still daylight and her mother was standing by the bed looking down at her.
‘Mr Carlton has been on the phone twice this morning. He wanted to speak to you. I told him what had happened and what a terrible time you have had and that I wanted you to have your sleep. He asked me to have you phone him as soon as you woke up.’
Belle tossed the covers back. Within minutes she was washed and dressed and running after her mother. She caught up with her in the kitchen.
‘Has there been any news of Jack?’
‘No, dear, I’m sorry. Your father’s down at the beach now. I’m sure the police are doing everything that can be done. If Jack had been in the area we would have found him. You don’t think these people you told me about might have come here and taken him away, do you?’
‘I suggested that to the police but they told me they had checked up on the Ketterings and they were both in London.’
She sat down at the table holding her head in her hands.
‘They hired someone else to do their dirty work once before and I’m sure that’s what they’ve done now. But how to prove it? Where do I start and what am I to tell Jeffrey?’
‘He knows all there is to know. What else can we tell him when we know nothing ourselves?’
‘But it was my fault, Mama. I went up the valley and left him.’
‘He was with your father. You weren’t to know that he would come to harm.’
‘How could a stranger come here, snatch a little boy and leave without anyone noticing? New faces around here stand out. Why did o-one see them?’
Anne Mendes shook her head. With slow deliberation Belle left the table and crossed to the telephone. She glanced down at the number her mother had copied on to a small pad. Then with a sigh she began to dial. After several rings the phone was answered, the voice at the other end cool and distant.
‘Carlton.’
‘Jeffrey, it’s Belle.’
There was silence for a while, then, ‘What the devil’s going on over there? Your mother told me you’d been interrogated by the police. Has Jack been found yet?’
Belle tried hard to keep her voice even.
‘No, I think the Ketterings have taken him.’
‘Don’t be silly. They’re here in London.’
‘I know, but they have used other people before. Remember the anthrax?’
‘That was just gossip you overheard. There was never any proof.’
Belle clutched the phone and bit down on her lip.
‘Only because Mac warned us and you stopped them.’
‘MacDonald? Where does he fit in?’
‘He was put on to the two men who had been hired to spread the anthrax by someone he knew. I don’t know who it was. Mac didn’t connect it to the Ketterings until I told him about their visit to the cottage.’
‘Did you tell the police over there when they questioned you?’
‘Yes. They confirmed that the Ketterings were in London and just shrugged off the rest. They didn’t seem to believe me.’
‘Was it rough?’
His tone had softened. Belle couldn’t answer so he went on.
‘Let me know if you hear anything and I’ll start enquiries at this end. At least if the Ketterings have him he won’t come to any harm.’
She knew he was trying to comfort her, but her heart squeezed with pain.
‘I will,’ she said and heard the line go dead.
CHAPTER TEN
Jack was found next morning at Faro Airport in the company of a man claiming to be working for an English couple who had told him the boy was their son. Belle’s relief was so great when she heard the news that she insisted on going to Faro herself to pick him up.
First though, she called Jeffrey in London to tell him Jack was safe, but there was no answer so she decided to leave it until she returned. Her father drove her to the airport. They drew up outside the terminal building and Belle jumped out of the wagon and hurried across the Tarmac. It was cool inside the concourse as she searched around for where she would find Jack. She ran over to the reception desk and, pushing ahead of the people waiting to be attended to, demanded to know where she could find the police.
Without warning, she was grabbed by the shoulders and steered away from the startled onlookers. Convinced she was being manhandled by some angry passenger she struggled to free herself.
‘Behave yourself and come with me.’
Startled, she swung round, her mouth forming a silent exclamation as she stared at Jeffrey Carlton. She had no time to voice any questions as she was hauled along by his side to the entrance of the building. Once outside she saw Jack and her father standing by the wagon. Breaking free of Jeffrey she ran towards them, picking up Jack as they collided and hugging him so hard he objected.
‘Belle,’ he cried, his voice near to tears, ‘a man tried to take me away but Daddy came and saved me.’
Jeffrey had come to stand in front of her father. Talking quietly, the two men shook hands. Then Jose Mendes turned back to his daughter.
‘I go home now. You follow in the car with the boy,’ he said nodding towards a dark blue saloon.
Belle looked up at Jeffrey but his expression gave nothing away.
‘Are we going back to your house, Belle?’ Jack wanted to know. ‘And is Daddy coming with us?’
‘Yes,’ Belle replied tearing her eyes away from Jeffrey.
They waved to her father then climbed into the car, securing their seat-belts as Jeffrey started the engine and backed the car out of the carpark. Belle had never felt so happy in all her life. She slid sidelong glances at the stern profile of the man beside her, watched the gentle strength of his fingers controlling the car, and listened to the non-stop chatter of the little boy in the back seat. Her life was complete.
It was Anne who smiled at their unexpected visitor on arrival and asked him how long he would be staying in Portugal.
‘I fly back tomorrow and I want to take Isabelle and Jack with me.’
The following silence stretched like a piece of elastic. Anne continued to set the table for the mid-day meal.
‘Well, let’s all sit down and eat first then perhaps you and Belle can go down to the beach while Jack and I have a little rest.’
The little boy had begun to droop before they were halfway home and was now tucked up in his make-shift bed in Belle’s room, fast asleep.
‘I promise to keep a close watch on him,’ she said, smiling at her daughter as Belle would have intervened.
Belle was nervous of the forthcoming stroll with Jeffrey, but she sat down with the others for the fish stew her mother had prepared. Then when the meal was over, the two set off for their stroll. They had been walking some short while when Belle burst out.
‘It wasn’t carelessness, you know. My father would never have allowed Jack to wander off. The man who took him must have been very clever. He was employed by the Ketterings, wasn’t he?’
‘I wouldn’t dream of suggesting your father was at fault,’ Jeffrey said, as he held out a hand to help her over a patch of rocky ground. ‘Yes, the man was employed by the Ketterings. He admitted as much to the police. I almost felt sorry for him,’ he said, as the sand levelled off and they walked along the sea edge. ‘Apparently Jack gave him a rough time, kicking and crying until he made himself sick. That turned into a fever and they missed the flight home. The next available flight was the turn around I came in on. As it was, I walked right into them as I was leaving the terminal. Jack saw me and put up one devil of a racket. I think we both know now that Jack’s no longer safe here,’ he concluded.
Belle kept her head down and chewed on her lower lip.
‘Would he be any safer in London?’
‘With both of us to watch over him, and keep an eye on the Ketterings at the same time, oh, I think so.’
Belle stopped walking and gazed out across the water.
‘Where would we stay?’
S
he glanced up at him now. He was staring straight ahead. She barely came up to his shoulder and it was difficult for her to see what he was thinking. When he spoke, his voice was gentle.
‘You’ll be staying with me. There’s plenty of space for you to have your own room and this time I won’t be required to sleep in the barn.’
Belle, unsure whether this comment was a dig at her or a weak attempt at a joke, let it alone. How he could afford a place for all of them was none of her business, she told herself. They walked on, Belle wading out into the shallow water and kicking at the tiny wavelets. Her sandals were soaked but they’d dry off in the sun. Soon they turned inland again and followed the path to the olive grove. Belle sat down on the grass and leaned her back against the warm, old wood.
‘Do you have relatives in London?’ she asked.
Her innocent query received a dark scowl from where he stood opposite her resting against the twisted trunk of the tallest of the trees.
‘Did my wife never tell you of my family history?’
‘She never mentioned you at all.’
‘No,’ he said, more to himself as to her, ‘she wasn’t the communicative type.’ Then, as though coming back from a visit to the past, he said, ‘My father is dead. My mother lives in Australia with my deceased wife’s father.’
Belle was thoughtful.
‘Do they know about Jack?’
‘They didn’t,’ he said, easing himself from the tree. ‘They do now.’
He moved forward to stare down the valley to the sea.
‘You’ll come back.’
Was that a question or a demand, Belle wondered.
‘Putting my name on the birth certificate was the only generous gesture Kathleen ever made,’ he said.
He walked over to Belle and pulled her to her feet.
‘When I received your letter confirming that you were prepared to be my fiancée until such time as a decision about Jack’s future was made, I realised that the engagement in itself was not going to suffice. I want you to marry me, Isabelle.’
Belle felt the colour drain from her face. Her heart was tumbling over itself and deep down in her body she knew a quiver of fear. He was close now. His hands played with hers in a tender, rubbing movement.
‘I didn’t mean that as it sounded.’
He hesitated.
‘We will live as we did in Northumberland, you, Jack and I. If at some future date we both feel we might want to take it further then we’ll reconsider. I thought we were coming to an understanding at the cottage. Was I wrong?’
Belle’s eyes were glued to his face.
‘Why will the engagement not suffice?’
He dropped her hand and turned away and Belle knew he was holding a tight leash on his emotions. He swung back to her and his eyes had lightened to a tigerish yellow in the dappled light between the branches of the olive trees.
‘Because I don’t believe you are capable of passing yourself off as a live-in lover and that’s what it would take to persuade the authorities that we could provide a stable relationship for Jack.’
Belle, just recovering from the shock of his proposal, felt herself blanche yet again.
‘The Ketterings had no such problems believing I was your live-in lover. So why should others?’
Jeffrey ran a hand around the back of his neck.
‘I don’t want to leave it to chance, that’s all. Do you?’
‘Marriage isn’t a convenience. It’s for life.’
Belle could feel the anger and pain building up inside her.
‘Not necessarily. If later we found we couldn’t get on then we could have an amicable divorce.’
Belle was horrified. Her lip trembled.
‘And what of Jack? Would you put him through all the tortures of a divorce so lightly?’ she asked.
Jeffrey’s hands struck the sides of his legs.
‘There wouldn’t be any tortures. It could be done in a perfectly civilised way, with no harm to anyone.’
‘The harm to Jack is the same as it has always been, the fear of losing me, only this time it would be riding piggy back on a time bomb instead.’
She was almost shouting.
‘And leaving him with someone who cares for him,’ he interjected. ‘I think he knows me well enough now to cope, if he has to,’ he added, with barely-raised voice.
Silence fell between them, each retiring with their own hurt.
‘I came here to talk of marriage and all you can do is dwell on divorce,’ he said eventually.
He walked off through the trees. It was the sound of her snuffles that alerted him to the fact that she was crying and made him turn back. On reaching her he took her in his arms and held her close.
‘Will you marry me?’
He felt the nod of her head and closed his eyes as she whispered, ‘Yes.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Everything had been such a rush, she thought later as she sat back in her seat on the evening flight to London. Jack was asleep in the seat next to her and Jeffrey occupied the aisle seat. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander back over the day’s happenings. They had promised her parents to come back for a church blessing after the hurried registry office ceremony in London and lastly there was the joy and excitement their announcement had been to Jack.
Until his arrival in Portugal she knew that she had missed Jeffrey. She’d fantasised about him offering to marry her and keep them together as a family. But she had never admitted to herself the possibilities of it coming true. Never for a minute had she considered how painful it would be to truly love someone who didn’t love you back. And she did love him, she admitted to herself. He needed her, she had no doubt about that, but he didn’t love her and what hurt the most was that he didn’t seem to think she might want to be loved.
It was early morning when they arrived at Gatwick. Belle held on to a dazed Jack while Jeffrey organised the luggage and a taxi. The taxi deposited them outside a large house on the edge of a park. Jeffrey led them inside to a circular, tiled hall. A potted palm stood at the bottom of a wide flight of stairs. Jeffrey dropped their luggage here then continued down the hall until he opened a door at the rear. Belle and Jack followed him into a kitchen warm from the heat of a stove that filled an old chimney breast.
‘Good, Mrs Sears has built up the stove. She comes in three mornings a week,’ he explained to Belle. ‘Let’s all have something to eat then I’ll take you round and show you the sleeping arrangements.’
The overall impression presented to Belle, as they toured the house after sharing a casserole left in the oven by the invisible Mrs Sears, was one of a well-maintained comfortable home not unlike the one Kathleen herself had provided for them. It seemed she was not only to be allowed the run of the house but be the mistress of it.
What really worried her though was how he could afford such comfort. There was a large lounge and dining-room to the front of the house and a cloakroom tucked under the stairs. The kitchen, utility and a boiler house took up the rear. Upstairs were three bedrooms and a bathroom. The main bedroom had both an en suite and dressing-room.
‘This will be yours,’ Jeffrey said, placing the luggage by the bottom of a king-sized bed.
Belle sat Jack on the bed as she gazed around her in awe while Jeffrey moved on to the next room. She wandered into the bathroom of white and gold tiling. Its bath with Jacuzzi and shower was separated from toilet, bidet and vanity unit by a wall of glass shelving. The dressing-room made her laugh for never in a million years could she hope to fill all the drawers, shelves and hanging space behind the mirrored doors.
Jeffrey came back into the bedroom and glanced down at Jack fighting off sleep on Belle’s bed.
‘I’ll take him,’ he said lifting the child into his arms.
‘Don’t try to undress him. Just take off his outer things. Will the beds have been aired?’ she asked anxiously.
‘I left on the central heating,’ he stated, leaving the room with Jack i
n his arms.
He reappeared downstairs a few minutes after Belle had sat down in the lounge.
‘Are you satisfied with your new home?’ he asked.
‘No protests from Jack?’ she queried twisting around in the chair to face him.
‘No protests,’ he confirmed.
She let go of a long, drawn-out sigh.
‘It’s very nice,’ she said alluding to her surroundings.
‘A drink?’ he asked heading for a cabinet on the far wall.
‘Thank you, a sherry, please, if there is one.’
So many questions fogged her mind. The rent for this place must be tremendously expensive. She was familiar enough with London to know the pricey area they were in. How could he afford it? Where did he work? Where was the statue? She glanced around the room as he poured the drinks.
It looked so lived in. There were flowers in a bowl on a small side table and books piled in haphazard turmoil on a low stool. It might, of course, belong to his mother or father-in-law. Good grief, what a mix up. No wonder he’d felt the need to escape. She couldn’t help but compare his family to her own and she was still deep in this contemplation when he came over with her drink.
‘Has someone leased you this place?’ she found herself asking.
He cocked an eyebrow above the glass he was drinking from.
‘I’m sorry, that was impertinent of me,’ she rushed to say. ‘Perhaps I’ll go to my room after all. I’m more tired than I realised.’
She placed her glass on the low table between them and stood up.
‘Good-night,’ she whispered and turned to go.
His voice followed her to the door.
‘We’ll talk in the morning.’
She woke from sleep two hours later, cold sweat bathing her face. The thin night-dress she wore clung to her body like a chilly caress. She lay still wondering what had woken her. Some intangible fear had her heart pumping at double its normal rate. The sounds of the traffic were muted behind the triple-glazed window. Her own breathing was louder. There was a presence in the darkness, she could feel it.
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