Parting of the Waves

by Leah Hope

  “Don’t be daft Bridge” Gil said, casting his sister a withering glance. “I think they’ll use a squad car like anyone else. Besides, where would they leave the horse!” Bridget’s obvious embarrassment was clear for all to see.

  “Well whatever form of transport they use, I’m looking forward to hearing what she’s got to say for herself”, Mark replied. “Depending on the outcome of course, I may have to take a trip over there myself. Which sounds very nice if you’ve got time to see the sights, but with the state of the budget I’ll be expected to do the round trip in a couple of days. I don’t even want to think about the jet lag.”

  “Well that seems very unfair” Bridget said, clearly concerned for Mark’s welfare. “How on earth are you expected to do your job if you’ve spent the last twelve hours or however long it is on a plane?”

  “Oh don’t worry about me, I’m made from strong stuff!” Mark replied with a grin, and, to Bridget’s relief, suddenly looking more like his old self. “That’s one of the reasons I keep myself fit, or at least try to. I find it helps with the stress and strains of the job. A quick 5k and I’ll be raring to go again. But I guess you know how that feels Bridget.”

  “Oh I do Mark, I do”, Bridget blurted out, not daring to glance across at her brother whose shoulders she could see were beginning to shake.

  “Talking of the job, I really need to get going” Mark said getting to his feet, apparently not noticing that Gil was about to burst. “I’m hoping there’ll be some news from Jamie Cresswell’s interview. I can’t wait to hear what that young man’s got to say. At the moment he’s the only link we’ve got with the rest of the family. Let’s hope he’s been in a co-operative mood. We desperately need a break.”

  “Well let’s hope too that the Mounties get their man, or their woman in this case” Bridget added with an encouraging smile as she patted Mark on the arm. “When are you expecting to hear from Canada?”

  “In the next couple of hours hopefully.”

  As Mark made his way along the hallway to the front door, his mobile rang. “I’ll just take this here if you don’t mind” he said, sitting down on the stairs. “Let’s hope it’s good news.”

  Allowing the Chief Inspector some privacy to take the call, Bridget wandered into the kitchen where Gil had already made a start on the washing up. Just as she was about to pick up the tea towel Mark’s raised voice could be heard uttering a string of expletives. “Oh dear, that doesn’t sound like good news” she said to her brother who was holding a cup and a dish mop in mid-air as he strained to hear the conversation in the hall.

  Moments later, Mark popped his head around the kitchen door. “Sorry about the language, I didn’t mean you hear that, but you’ll never believe what’s happened.”

  “Something tells me this isn’t going to be good news after all” Bridget said with a frown.

  “That was Sergeant Dolores Reyes from the Vancouver Police Department. She and a colleague went to the hospital to speak to Shirley Wheeler first thing this morning, their time, only to find she discharged herself last night.”

  “But I thought she was in traction?” Gil asked.

  “She was, but only as a precaution apparently. It turns out her injury wasn’t as bad as first thought.”

  “Did she give a forwarding address?”

  “Yep, her daughter’s place, which the sergeant has checked out. It’s an apartment down town and, surprise, surprise, there was no-one at home. A neighbour reported seeing the daughter lugging two large suitcases into the lift late yesterday afternoon. He said it looked like she wasn’t planning on coming back any time soon, if the amount of luggage was anything to go by.”

  “So where does that leave things now Mark?” Bridget asked.

  “Up the proverbial creek I think. Paddle anyone?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Bridget couldn’t sleep that night. Not only was the mystery surrounding the disappearing Cresswells bothering her, Mark Addison was on her mind too. She and Gil had begun to look on him as a friend and the strain that had been so evident on his face that afternoon worried her. She could of course understand why he had sought promotion, naturally he wanted a better life for his family and who could blame him for that. It was what people had to do these days but it was so different from the world she and Gil had been brought up in.

  Sylvia, their mother had been a teacher, but gave up work shortly after becoming pregnant with Bridget, never to return. Whilst she had appreciated her mother being at home for her and Gil when they were young, she later thought it was such a waste of her mother’s skills and talents. Sylvia wasn’t alone of course as very few of the mothers of Bridget’s friends had jobs, not while their children were in school at any rate. Furthermore, Sylvia would have been appalled if anyone had suggested that she had “sacrificed” her career for the sake of her children. Bridget could clearly recall how mother used to say that raising children, or the next generation as she put it, was the most important job of all. She was proud to do it and to do it well.

  Things were so much different today, Bridget mused as she tossed and turned. One wage, even a decent wage, was rarely enough to buy a family home. So yes, Bridget could understand Mark’s motives, but she hoped he wasn’t pushing himself too hard. The consequences of that could bring everything he had worked so hard for tumbling down.

  Sleep eventually overcame her in the early hours and she dreamed of the Cresswell family adrift on a raft in the middle of an ocean, waving frantically. A rescue ship appeared out of the mist and headed straight for the raft. Bridget was at the helm.

  *

  Despite her poor night, Bridget was up by eight the following morning and busied herself making breakfast for herself and Gil. A full English was just what the doctor ordered she thought and the speed in which Gil demolished his later suggested he felt the same. Conversation soon turned to Mark’s visit and the disappointing news about Shirley Wheeler’s disappearance, but, as usual, Gil was more circumspect. Much to Bridget’s annoyance.

  “I know you’re worried Bridge, but I’m sure it’ll all come right in the end. Mark’s got his finger on the pulse and he says he’s got a good team around him, so just let them get on with it. Ok?”

  “I know you’re right, I’m just letting my emotions get carried away again. I keep thinking of Mark collapsing under the strain of it all and his poor family trying to pick up the pieces. Oh I know I’m being silly, but I can’t get the thought out of my mind.”

  Seeing his sister’s obvious distress, Gil sensibly realised now wasn’t the time for platitudes. He got up from the table and put an arm around her shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with showing emotion Bridge, it just proves you care. Mark’s a strong chap and he’s got a very capable wife at his side so I don’t think you need to get so anxious. Besides, if you go under, who’ll get my dinner?”

  Bridget feigned a slap at her brother’s arm but at the same time, appreciated his attempt to comfort her. It wasn’t always something he was good at but today he’d got it right.

  “It’s not just Mark, it’s the Cresswells too. Having met them on the ferry, well, they seemed such a nice couple…”

  “Only they weren’t, were they. A couple I mean. It was all an act and we were taken in. So I wouldn’t feel too sorry for them if were you. More tea?”

  Bridget shook her head. “I know that but I’m sure they had their reasons and I can’t help thinking they did it out of necessity, not an insurance fraud or anything like that. I just wish I could fathom out what’s behind it all. I keep coming back to that teddy bear. I’m sure that’s the key.” After a pause to butter another slice of toast, Bridget continued with her train of thought. “I’m pretty certain that someone, possibly Jeremy Marshall-Dobbs, saw that photo of her in the newspaper and knowing that the bear was stuffed with diamonds decided to….”

  “To do what? Throw her off a cross-channel ferry? Why would he do that? How would that help him get the bear back? Sounds a bit far-
fetched to me.”

  “I didn’t say that Gil, so please don’t put words in my mouth” Bridget replied angrily. “I don’t know what they might have decided to do but whatever it is, it’s caused most of the family to disappear. So evidently something serious has happened but how that fits in with the charade on the ferry, I don’t know. Thankfully Jamie is still around, according to Mark anyway. Talking of which, I wonder how the interview went with him yesterday. Perhaps I should ring him to find out?”

  “No, definitely not. We can’t expect Mark to let us know every little detail, it’s really got nothing to do with us so just let him get on with it.”

  Bridget reluctantly had to acknowledge that her brother was right although she didn’t give him the satisfaction of actually telling him so. Instead she ignored his last remark and set about loading their breakfast things into the dishwasher. Gil trooped off into the garden to do a spot of weeding. Just as Bridget was stacking the last of the plates, the phone rang.

  “Oh hello Mark, Gil and I were just talking about you, well wondering rather how the interview with Jamie Cresswell went yesterday.”

  “Just as I was thinking things couldn’t get any worse, they just did. One of my team called at the mobile phone shop in town where he works to question him about his family’s whereabouts only to find he’s been granted a couple of weeks compassionate leave. His manager said that the day before he’d had some sort of a meltdown in front of a shopful of customers so in light of what’s happened to his mother, they sent him home. They’ve told him to take as long as he needs.”

  “That was very decent of them.”

  “Yes wasn’t it just” Mark replied, clearly not nearly as sympathetic as Bridget. “So, off my officer goes to his flat, hoping to find him stretched out on the sofa over-dosing on antique shows or whatever passes for entertainment on daytime TV these days. Anyway, there’s no answer at the flat but just as he was about to leave, a young woman arrived with a cat-box.”

  This wasn’t what Bridget was expecting to hear at all and wondered if she’d misheard. “A cat-box you say?”

  “Yes a cat-box, carrier or whatever it’s called for transporting the pesky things. Anyway, it turns out she’s the sister of one of Jamie Cresswell’s flat-mates, Ryan Harris. She said her brother rang her late last night to tell her that he, Jamie and the other lad they share with have suddenly decided to take off to Spain for a couple of weeks. They took a ferry to Calais first thing this morning. Ryan intended to drop off their cat Moggie with her but as he’d done one of his disappearing acts, Moggie not Ryan, he rang to ask her to collect him and take him to her place. If the little blighter turns up of course.”

  “You’re not a cat lover then Mark?” Bridget asked, bemused.

  “You could say that. We had one when I was a kid and we always seemed to be knee deep in dead or half-dead creatures of some sort or other. There was even a budgie once. Lord knows where he got that from. I do remember though my mother not being able to look our neighbour in the eye for a while. So no, I’m not a fan.”

  “So they’re off to the Costas then?”

  “Well surprisingly not, according to Rose Harris, that’s the sister by the way. She says the boys are lovers of the great outdoors so they’ve packed their tents and are heading for the mountains. I suppose it makes a change from the tales of drunken debauchery you come to expect whenever you hear about young Brits abroad. Of course it means they’re more than likely out of range of a mobile phone mast so bang goes any chance of talking to Jamie. But just in case her brother does get in touch, I’ve asked Rose to pass a message on that we need to speak to him urgently. She’s not expecting to hear from Ryan though as she says they’re into this survival lark, inspired by that bloke you see on the TV no doubt, so contacting the outside world is a bit of a no-no.”

  “Oh dear, that’s not what you wanted to hear Mark is it” Bridget replied sympathetically.

  “Nope. But that seems to be par for the course for this investigation. Now that the entire Cresswell clan seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth, or they’ve all been kidnapped by aliens, I’m fast running out of ideas. Anyway, I’d better get on, I just wanted to bring you up to speed.”

  “Thanks for that Mark, much appreciated. I do hope he’ll be alright though” Bridget added after a pause. “He must be very frightened being outside at night all alone and the evenings are so cold now.”

  “I’m sure Jamie’s a strong lad, besides, there’s three of them so he’s got company.”

  “Oh not Jamie. I meant Moggie” Bridget replied with concern.

  “Don’t worry about him” Mark replied with a laugh. “I bet he’s snuggled up on Rose’s lap being hand-fed smoked salmon as we speak. Cats always land on their feet don’t they.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Bridget spent the next morning doing the rounds of the local shops. Having an inbred hatred of supermarkets, she took great pleasure in shopping almost exclusively at the little parade of shops just off the Esplanade. Gil had predicted, rather smugly Bridget thought, that now that she had her own car, she would inevitably start shopping at one of the huge supermarkets on the retail park on the Dover road. She had tried it once, but that was just an excuse to take her beloved Cindy for a spin rather than a desire to visit a store so vast she could hardly see one end from the other. Satisfied that she had at least given Gil’s suggestion a go, Bridget was more than happy to return to her old habits and saw no reason to change. She arrived home just after eleven to find Gil sipping a cup of fresh coffee in the kitchen. A newspaper was spread out on the table in front of him.

  “Did you get everything love?”

  “Yes thanks. I’ve got us a lovely couple of trout for our supper tonight. They were the last two Ted had so I was lucky to get them.”

  “Mmm, I’ll look forward to those. Fancy a coffee?”

  “Oh yes please, I’m gasping.”

  “Well sit yourself down and I’ll tell you all about the phone call I had when you were out.”

  “Sounds intriguing” Bridget replied as she sat down opposite her brother. “So who’s the mysterious caller then?”

  “Cousin John.”

  “Gosh we haven’t heard from him for a while. I hope it’s not bad news about Celia or Tom.”

  Celia was Sylvia’s younger sister who had married Tom Bradley, a farmer from the Yorkshire Dales. They had two children, John and Ruth. When both families were younger, they would visit each other several times a year but as life on the farm got increasingly harder, the visits petered out. Contact was now reduced to exchanging cards at Christmas and the occasional phone call when there was some important news. That usually meant that John’s wife Cathy had given birth to another child. They now had four. Ruth had married a New Zealander and was living an idyllic life running their sheep farm in a remote part of the North Island. Gil and Bridget had had no contact with her for years.

  “No, far from it. John has invited us to stay with them for a few days. It’s Tom and Celia’s golden wedding anniversary next week and they’re having a bit of a do for them. He apologised for the short notice but he’s only just managed to persuade his mum and dad that it’s something they should celebrate. They were all for having a quiet night in with the family but it was Cathy apparently who worked on them until they gave in.”

  “That sounds like Cathy alright, she’s not one to take no for an answer. So did you tell him we’d go or not?”

  “No I didn’t give John an answer, I said I wanted to check with you first. There’s nothing much on at the garage next week so if you’re up for it, I think we should go. We haven’t seen any of them since Mum’s funeral, and, as John said, his mum and dad aren’t getting any younger. We may not get many more chances to see them. So what so you say?”

  “Yes why not. A trip to the Dales would be lovely. But on one condition.”

  Gil could feel his heart sink. He had a horrible feeling he knew what was coming next. “So what�
��s that then?”

  “We take Cindy. I haven’t taken her on a long trip so this will be a good chance to stretch her wheels.”

  “Lovely” Gil replied, “I can hardly wait.”

  Bridget was by now so excited at taking Cindy on a long drive that Gil’s remark went completely over her head.

  *

  Four days later, Gil and Bridget were on their way north. They had agreed with John that they would arrive on the Monday, the day before the celebrations, and leave on the Thursday morning. There would be a number of other members of the family staying over (thankfully the farmhouse could accommodate a crowd) so Bridget didn’t want them to be more of a burden for Cathy than was absolutely necessary. She knew the bulk of the planning and party celebrations would fall to her as John had more than his hands full running the farm almost single handedly. His wife helped out when she could of course and Tom still like to keep a watchful eye on things. Bridget had offered to make the cake so was disappointed when John said they had already ordered one from a local bakery. Not one to be thwarted however, Bridget had made a batch of cupcakes, flecked with real gold leaf, plus a Dundee cake which would keep for later if it wasn’t needed for the party.

  Bridget had initially struggled with what to give the golden couple for their anniversary. She thumbed through a few gift catalogues for ideas and surfed the net but nothing leapt out. Then she had an idea. Gil was dispatched to the loft to bring down a storage box full of old photographs and the pair spent a couple of happy hours strolling down memory lane until Bridget found the one she wanted. It was a snap of the two families playing French cricket on the beach at Whytecliffe. Celia was batting and had obviously just skied a delivery from Tom as the others were all looking anxiously upwards, hands held out expectantly to take the catch. Frederick wasn’t in the picture so it was assumed he had been behind the camera. The next day, Gil and Bridget went into town to buy a suitable frame. It had to be gold of course, or rather gold plated, which they had inscribed on the bottom with the words Golden days.