by Sam Blake
It was afterwards that she collapsed.
Brioni had struck her as that sort of person, too. Perhaps Marissa was like her? But from what she’d seen of Steve Hunt’s relationship with his wife, he made all the decisions. Did she query them? Did she have an opportunity? Brioni had been clear that he was very controlling. Anna couldn’t imagine any woman who had got a first at university being happy with losing her independence – and that’s exactly what it sounded like had happened to Marissa when she’d married Steve.
As Brioni had said, he was good looking, charming, wealthy – she was sure his Tinder profile, if he’d ever had one, was a dream read. But the expectation didn’t quite meet the reality. Perhaps Anna was totally wrong and was jumping to conclusions. Perhaps Marissa liked having her life organised for her. Perhaps.
But why wouldn’t she answer her little sister when she’d been away for so long? Brioni had said that she’d messaged her every day since she’d arrived in London, had sent her the address in Stratford that she was staying at. Why hadn’t she been in touch? Did Brioni remind her too much of what could have been – of how different she’d thought her life would be?
Anna bit her lip. When something like this happened, there were so many casualties; the hospitals would be flooded, the police overstretched trying to find the bomber and deal with the fallout. It was very possible that she was safe somewhere but hadn’t been identified.
Anna laid the phone down beside her, trying to banish the negative thoughts. Perhaps Marissa was fine; perhaps she had been so shocked by the blast that she’d wandered off. Would her husband know where she might go under those circumstances? Would she go to a friend’s? Or perhaps she was so dazed she was just wandering the streets? People had turned up all over the place after 9/11; losing their IDs, they’d ended up in hospitals far away from home. Would Marissa be able to remember where she lived?
Anna stopped herself. She shouldn’t get involved. She didn’t even know Marissa Hunt. Rob was always telling her that she shouldn’t get absorbed in her student’s crises, but she had an instinctive need to solve people’s problems. Thinking outside the box came easily to her, and it seemed stupid to watch others struggle when she could help. And Marissa was Irish, and she’d been to Trinity, and if Anna was in the same situation she hoped someone would worry about her. And she liked Brioni a lot.
Anna’s phone began to ring again. Isolde’s number flashed up on the screen. She answered quickly.
‘I’ve got the number of the caterer for you. I’ve just emailed it with their contact email address, too. It’s Celtic Hospitality, the owner’s name is Siobhan. And Donal just called.’
‘Thanks so much. Any more news?’
Anna heard Isolde take a breath.
‘Donal says Steve’s acting calm, but he’s frantic with worry. He’s got a “find my phone” app activated on his wife’s phone. Its last location was Oxford Street, right beside where the bus was.’
Chapter 18
Brioni sat down with a thump on the edge of the single bed in her room, looking at the phone in her hand in disbelief. She’d almost jumped out of her skin when it had rung, had been so relieved to see Anna’s name appear on the screen. Knowing she could end up losing Anna’s business card, she’d put her number into her contacts on the way home.
Anna hadn’t had much information, the emotion in her voice making it falter, but thank God she’d called.
How could Mar be missing?
Tears pricked at Brioni’s eyes. What on earth had happened to her?
What if she’d been on the bus?
Brioni felt physically sick at the thought. Anxiety opened up a black hole deep inside her, one that sucked in all her rationalising and hope. Here she was in London, having travelled halfway around the world, and the one person in the world she needed to see had vanished. It was as if they were trains going in opposite directions, passing at high speed, too fast for either of them to see into the carriages. She could see the lights and feel the whoosh of the carriages, but she was powerless to stop the engine.
Thank God Anna had called her.
Brioni ran her hand over her face. Why hadn’t she known? Surely she should have felt it if something awful had happened to Marissa? She’d often get a feeling if something bad was going to happen, like when she was in Thailand. She’d had a feeling of anxiety in the pit of her stomach from the moment she’d arrived in the country; that’s why she’d decided to go to the coast, to one of the towns that attracted backpackers. She’d got a job in a hostel without any difficulty, checking people in, making beds, cleaning, and had started to feel a bit more relaxed. Then she’d decided to go to the bar with some of the others.
And the thing she’d half-known would happen, and had been dreading, had happened.
Thank God she hadn’t been raped.
The punch that had knocked her out was a classic Thai mugging technique, apparently, a blow to the carotid artery that left the victim unconscious. She’d had hardly any money in her wallet, but what she had, had been taken. She’d been cursing herself that evening that she’d forgotten her phone, but thank God she had, or that would have gone, too. She’d written down all her important numbers in her diary – just in case this very thing happened – but she would have lost her photos and texts, her messages from friends, which would have made it all worse, if that was possible. She’d been utterly traumatised, but she knew she’d been so lucky. Maybe they’d been disturbed before they could do more than rob her. She’d never know, and she didn’t want to think about it.
Realistically, she’d been in some fairly hairy places, had been on the move for over a year, and it was the first and only time anything bad had happened, so on balance she really had been lucky. She’d heard some pretty terrible stories about lone females getting attacked as she’d made her way from India towards Laos.
Her eyes hot with tears, Brioni looked out of the bedroom window into the night.
Was Mar out there somewhere, like Anna had said? Had she been stunned by the blast and lost her memory?
Perhaps she was wandering, trying to find her way home. Despite the clear skies, there was no moon tonight. Brioni couldn’t even see the stars as clearly here as she’d be able to at home, or when she was travelling. The loom of the city interfered with their light. She took a shaky breath. Tonight there was a new moon, a supermoon, its magnetism enhanced by its proximity to earth causing bigger tides, affecting those super-sensitive to its changes here on earth.
Brioni’s star sign was Scorpio, and she knew she was a perfect example. She was resourceful, and passionate, but she could be very stubborn and distrusting; she was all about facts. And she really wasn’t happy when she didn’t have the facts she needed. Right now she didn’t know where her suitcase was, or where her sister was, and she needed information to help move her forward.
Mar was a Libran, balanced and calm; she could see both sides of every argument. Perhaps that’s why she got on with Steve; she could see his good side, assuming he had one.
Brioni bit her lip, the tears beginning to fall. She was exhausted, had had hardly any time to get over the flight, to change her body clock to UK time. But at least she had Anna. Anna seemed to be very well connected, and she understood. Whatever had happened in her past to cause her panic attack, Brioni had known from her voice on the phone that she completely understood how Brioni was feeling.
Perhaps she had lost someone close, too.
Chapter 19
Anna had been surprised that Brioni had answered her phone so late last night, but perhaps she shouldn’t have been – she was young, after all. Anna’s students all seemed to be night owls, the circadian rhythms of teenagers taking time to settle into adult patterns. She’d learned early on that tutorials at nine in the morning were essentially a waste of time – it took most of them until lunchtime to wake up and function at all. That didn’t stop her being an early riser, and this morning she’d sat on the terrace outside the Orlando Brasserie for
breakfast instead of going downstairs to the restaurant, the marble tables and open roof feeling distinctly Mediterranean. The Brasserie had a real Friday morning feel to it, as if it was gearing up for the weekend. She just wished she felt the same.
Anna ached for Brioni. She hadn’t slept well, her head full of memories, reliving everything she’d felt when she’d lost Jen. It was just too awful that Brioni could go through the same thing herself. Explaining what she knew of the situation last night, Anna had arranged to meet Brioni for coffee not far from where she’d planned to meet Isolde.
She couldn’t avoid St Pancras forever.
The sun was already hot as she’d headed down the steps of the hotel; the thoughts of going underground with hundreds of other hot people was distinctly unappealing. Her room had been fantastically cool, and she’d got a surprise at the temperature of the corridor when she’d opened her door. It was somehow very British not to have the communal areas air-conditioned, and it had made her smile. Now she was in the back of a black cab and had suddenly realised it was Friday the thirteenth.
Maybe this wasn’t the best day to choose to be going to St Pancras.
Anna looked at her phone. It hadn’t pipped but there was a message from Rob.
Hey, beautiful.
Anna felt a smile creeping across her face. They would soon be in the same city, even if it was only for twenty-four hours. Anna felt her heart fill, and for a moment was dizzy with anticipation. It was exciting being so close but, despite being in the same city, she didn’t know how much time they’d be able to snatch together. He was here helping to identify an active terrorist cell, and as she’d thought about it over breakfast, she’d realised that she had a mission, too – to help Brioni find her sister Marissa.
The universe was a strange thing, and she’d felt drawn to Brioni from the moment she had met her. She had a vulnerability – yet huge strength – that was intriguing, and Anna wanted to help her. It would be very difficult for her to plunge into her degree course at the world-renowned Empress College if she hadn’t made contact with Marissa, or at least had some sort of closure, and Anna hated to see talent wasted. And realistically, Rob was going to be pretty tied up when he got to London.
The cab pulled up in front of the magnificent turreted red brick hotel that fronted St Pancras station. As Anna pushed the cab door closed, she looked up, shading her eyes. The building was stunning, like a fairy-tale castle. It had featured in the Harry Potter movies, and she could almost see Harry and Ron circling the castellated spire that towered above the iconic station. The irony wasn’t lost on her; since she’d arrived in London it was as if she was in some sort of movie, one with very bad forces trying to overcome good. Her mind skipped straight to Brioni and Marissa; she just hoped that it had a happy ending.
As she walked up the steps, Anna took a deep breath. After her last visit to St Pancras, she couldn’t face being dropped at the taxi rank and going into the station through the main entrance. Going through the hotel and the Booking Office restaurant was a much better idea.
Inside, the hotel was cool. Beautiful architectural floral displays were scattered around a huge entrance that had once been the coaching stop beside the station, granite mounting blocks set in against the raw brick walls. Now, comfortable sofas and armchairs were scattered in groups. Many were already occupied – in the main by business people, it seemed to Anna, rather than travellers. Her mind strayed to her own job, to Trinity College. Right now, she wished that Rob had found a way to come to Dublin instead and there had been no bombs, that nobody was dead and that she was waiting for an eager tutor group to discuss some abstract theory.
Anna headed into the darkness of the Booking Office restaurant with its carved wood and parquet floor, her long white linen skirt and matching loose sleeveless top almost glowing in the dim light. It was cooler than the foyer, and she felt the welcome chill on her bare arms. She loved this restaurant. Whenever she came in here, she felt as if time had somehow stopped, that the stories of the people who passed through had become woven together. Everyone had a story.
As she pushed open the heavy wooden door to access the upper level of the station, the marble concourse bathed in light from the beautiful glass roof, Anna fought back memories of her last visit and tried to concentrate on today’s problem. It was rare that a terrorist organisation committed an act and then didn’t lay claim to it – they wanted their fifteen minutes of fame as much as anyone else. Last night she’d had the news stations on a loop on TV, images of the scenes now ingrained in her mind. And the fact that no one had claimed responsibility yet was bothering her.
Brioni’s foot tapped of its own accord as she waited for Anna. The café was in the heart of the station and constantly busy but, lost in her thoughts, she was hardly concentrating on her surroundings. Brioni glanced up and caught the eyes of a group of elderly women at the table close to hers. They were glancing over at her disapprovingly. She wasn’t sure if it was the colour of her hair standing out against the earth tones of the brick walls and pale oak tables, or her black T-shirt and cut-off jeans, that were attracting their attention, but no doubt they had thoughts on her tattoo and the diamond nose stud that Marissa had sent her for her eighteenth birthday.
Brioni rubbed her finger over it, anxiety clawing at her. She’d been absolutely floored when the courier had arrived at the hostel in Pai that she’d been working in, the distinctive lilac No. 42 box wrapped in layers of bubble wrap and tissue paper, buried in the depths of a brown envelope. Brioni had WhatsApped Mar a picture when she’d had the piercing done, a month before her birthday in April – Mar’s reply had been all about antiseptic and taking care of it. Brioni had thought she hadn’t really approved – not that it worried her – but then when the stud had arrived, she’d literally laughed out loud with delight. It like was a giant vote of confidence, and also a reminder of exactly where she’d been on her eighteenth birthday. Brioni glanced over to the women beside her and, meeting the eye of the one opposite her, smiled benignly.
What would the old dears think if they knew it was a No. 42 diamond?
Checking the time on her phone, Brioni caught sight of her reflection in the screen and frowned. There were dark circles under her eyes and she was as pale as she’d ever been. She turned the phone face down on the table and looked up to see Anna heading towards her, a feeling of relief washing over her. As if Anna could sense it, she leaned in over the table to give her a hug.
As Anna pulled away and sat down opposite her, Brioni felt tears pricking her eyes. She caught her breath.
‘Thank you. Thank you so much for telling me. I would never have known if you hadn’t called.’
Tucking her bag onto her lap, Anna shrugged.
‘I’m sorry it was so late – it took me a while to track you down.’
‘Siobhan, my boss, is great – she hardly sleeps. She said she was in the middle of writing a proposal for a customer when the ambassador’s wife’s email came in.’
Anna smiled. ‘I wondered what she was doing to reply to Isolde so promptly.’
Brioni bit her lip. ‘Is there any more news?’
Anna shook her head. ‘Apparently Steve has reported her missing. It would be no harm for you to file a report, too, then you’ll be in the loop as next of kin. I can’t imagine he’d keep any news to himself, but from what you’ve told me of him, he might not be as forthcoming as you’d like.’
Brioni rolled her eyes. ‘He’s a controlling bastard is what you mean.’ She could feel her eyes filling with tears again as she continued, tried to brush them away. ‘But I suppose if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have been tracking her phone and have realised she was right in the middle of everything.’
‘That’s true.’ Anna paused, hesitating for a moment. ‘I have some friends in the police. I’m hoping they’ll be able to check the hospital records reasonably quickly.’
‘That would be great, thank you. You’re being so good.’
The words sounded w
eak to Brioni. She’d only just met this wonderful woman, who had to be ten years older than her, but somehow in the madness of yesterday they’d formed a bond, and here she was helping her without any hesitation.
She’d read on an Instagram post once, ‘A grateful heart is a magnet for miracles’. She sure hoped so.
Anna reached across the table and rubbed the back of Brioni’s hand. She seemed to take a breath before she spoke, her voice low.
‘I lost my sister in a terrorist incident a few years ago. I want to help you find Marissa. Whatever has happened, it’s not a time to be on your own.’
Her eyes met Brioni’s and the tears rolled silently down Brioni’s cheeks. She didn’t know what to say for a moment.
Did that explain Anna’s panic attack? Had she experienced an explosion before?
Now wasn’t the time to ask.
‘I’m so sorry, that’s horrible. But thank you. I had a feeling there was something.’ Brioni took a shaky breath. ‘What do we do now? Where do we start?’
Anna cleared her throat. ‘Isolde – the Irish ambassador’s wife – called Steve this morning to see what was happening. He couldn’t say much, but he told her Marissa’s bag has been found.’ Brioni’s lip trembled as Anna continued. ‘It was with some other women’s belongings that were collected. It must have got mixed up with them. The police called him – he was listed as next of kin on something inside.’
Before Brioni could respond, the waiter interrupted them. They ordered quickly and the minute he had left, Brioni leaned forward.
‘Where?’
‘On the corner of Oxford Street. A group of women were caught in the explosion. I saw it on Sky News.’
