So Miss Phoebe Brown was born. Her character was still fluid, in the process of being invented. But her look was on the way.
Half my wardrobe space was empty so there was no problem hiding my new outfits. Suna and I watched some late film, ate some fruit, made coffee. Suna was calmer now. But I wanted to see the midnight sun, to experience daylight all night.
Joanna seemed to be asleep. I took Miss Brown out of the wardrobe, folded her into a carrier bag and left Suna dozing on the other bed.
I only had to find an empty ladies cloakroom and emerge as Miss Brown. The wig was a bit haywire after the tumble-dry, but it would pass. Not every passenger went to the beauty salon. Miss Brown certainly didn’t. This cruise was her retirement dream. I added on some cheap glasses and went out on deck.
The midnight sun was low on the horizon but it was still light. Passengers were crowding the deck, drinking, playing quoits, taking photographs. It was eerily strange. So late at night but it was still daylight. Like another world. I accepted a glass of wine from someone with a hospitable heart. He thought I was a poor old soul, on my last legs.
I was watching a riotous quoits tournament when I turned and caught sight of a grey figure that seemed familiar. It was the invisible man. He was hovering, uncertainly, an unlit cigarette between his fingers, the sun catching a glint on his Rolex watch.
ELEVEN
Hammerfest
Miss Phoebe Brown made her way tentatively on to the top deck the next day. It was windy, force four or five. She clung to the deck rails, making sure every wisp of hair was tucked under her thick headscarf and glasses firmly on her nose. Hammerfest looked no different to Honningsvaag where they had docked the day before. Same rows and rows of colourful wooden houses, same snow-capped mountains and barren landscape, probably the same pale reindeer strolling the roads.
The ship was having trouble making fast alongside the short berth. There were so few bollards to choose from. It was like fitting a size seven into a size six.
‘Excuse me, ma’am, but it really isn’t safe for you to be walking about the decks. You’d be better off inside.’ It was a young officer, wrapped up in his waterproofs, managing to keep his flat cap on. Perhaps he used Blu-Tack.
‘Thank you, young man,’ I said. ‘Perhaps I will take your advice. It is a bit windy. May I take your arm?’
‘Of course.’
‘Did you by any chance see that awful accident under the keel? How could it have possibly happened to such a nice lady?’
‘No idea how it happened. The emergency ladders are locked all the time, except for maintenance. All very strange.’
Miss Brown had a tired and trembly voice. I’d borrowed a walking stick for her so she looked every year of a frail seventy. I knew lots of bright and bouncy seventy-year-olds in Latching, dancing away the night at the pier pavilion, playing tournament bowls, walking the South Downs. But Miss Brown was one of the worn-out brigade. I ought to invent a past for her, something exhausting and uncheckable.
‘That’s it, ma’am, better safe than sorry.’ The officer politely held open one of the heavy doors for me and I tottered inside. The heat was lovely. Hammerfest was cold. Other passengers were drifting out to look at our new port of call, but returning fast. Perhaps the wind would have dropped by the time the gangways were down and the rows of coaches left the quayside.
Miss Brown could easily join one of the tours. Joanna had all the excursion tickets in a clip on the desk and I helped myself to the correct ticket before leaving the stateroom. My change of character always took place in the nearest ladies cloakroom, the superfluous Lacey clothes stowed in my capacious bag. Any reversal would only take minutes. There were cloakrooms on every deck, either end of the ship, and always near the lifts as if ascents and descents upset the equilibrium.
I changed again before going back to the stateroom, stowing Miss Brown to the back of a wardrobe. I was becoming a quick-change artiste.
‘I think I’ll go on one of the tours,’ I told Joanna. ‘Sec the fish drying on the A-shaped racks. They say they powder the heads to make fish soup for the Congo. So don’t try fish soup in the Congo.’
She did not move. Her trance was shell-cased, encapsulated, rigid. Yet there was something that did not ring true and I was not sure what it was. Her breathing was regular, her skin colour even. The only thing that moved were her eyelashes.
‘Would you like a grape?’ I said, already regretting the words as I said them. Not nice. ‘Here’s a basket of them.’ For a moment I wanted to put my arms around the woman and inject some warmth or encourage movement from her. But the emotional moment passed. My emotional moments always passed, especially if James was around.
Suna arrived back at the stateroom, with a handful of unanswered letters. ‘From my mother,’ she said, apologetically. ‘I never know what to say. She is always hungry for news.’
‘You could tell her about Joanna Carter’s accident.’
‘Would that be all right?’
‘Your mother is many miles away, isn’t she?’
Suma nodded. ‘Thousands of miles.’
‘Then it won’t really matter if you tell her.’
After another furtive loo stop, Miss Brown left the ship to board one of the coaches. The tour was going to look at fish hotels, whatever they were, and the polar bear club. A baby reindeer was walking across the road, eating the flowers in the pots outside the shops. No one could stop him. He knew he was protected. He had that cocky look.
All at once, I didn’t want to see stuffed polar bears or fish who lived in hotels before becoming someone’s lunch. I’d have the ship to myself. This was my chance for a good nose round.
‘Would anyone like my ticket?’ I said to the waiting few. ‘Yes, please.’ An elderly gentleman hobbled towards me. His face was alight with pleasure. ‘I was too late to get one on board. Can I pay you later? I’ll give you my cabin number. Edward Hale. C Deck.’
‘That’s fine,’ I said. ‘No hurry to pay. Enjoy yourself.’ ‘How very kind. Are you sure you don’t want to go?’ He looked so pleased.
‘Absolutely positive. I like my polar bears roaming in the wild.’
‘So do I, really. Too late for these bears,’ he grunted, climbing aboard.
I went back through security with as little fuss as possible. If they thought it was strange that I should be off and on again ten minutes later, then they could put it down to eccentricity. Miss Brown was definitely becoming more eccentric by the hour. I went up to the lido cafe and collected Earl Grey and a buttered croissant. Miss Brown had to eat differently to Jordan Lacey. I couldn’t remember if I had had any breakfast and I needed calories. It seemed a long time ago.
The cafe was almost empty so I had a table to myself. A few officers had congregated at the far end, talking and laughing. I bet they had a few jokes going on. Passengers were fair game. I wondered what they would make of Miss Brown. She was going to have a penchant for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I hardly knew what I was looking for. To start with, I combed every deck systematically, made identifying group notes of cabin numbers, lifts, stairs. There were several curtained off areas that led to crew corridors and offices, many doors that only opened with a code. Outside I routed the gangways and flights of steps and open decks, checked short cuts. There were plenty of ways for someone to escape unseen. My map covered all the passenger areas.
A very ordinary metal service lift near the stewards’ store rooms took me down to the crew quarters. Here every aspect changed. No carpets, no swish decor, no pretty lights or pictures. These were echoing corridors filled with bags of rubbish waiting to be offloaded, equipment and supplies, cables, unwanted luggage, the mortuary. It was busy with walking stewards, crew, officers, chefs, mechanics, maintenance, electricians, either going on duty or going off. Offices serving every area of administration led off a central block. The crew quarters, canteen, rest rooms and bar were sited at the stern.
I caught sig
ht of Dr Russell. He was going into the mortuary. Someone had died, or was he checking the temperature? I didn’t want him to see me. Those keen blue eyes would soon spot the lack of wrinkles and lines. There was a convenient side alley which led to the officers’ mess. I dodged down till I thought it was safe to emerge.
‘Do you know where the emergency ladders are kept?’ I asked one of the maintenance crew. He shook his head.
‘Are you lost, ma’am?’ asked a senior steward, turning round.
I was lost. I had no idea how to get back into the passenger area. There were few lifts and they were the bare service lifts and busy at work. No room for an elderly lady with a stick.
‘Excuse me, do you know anything about emergency ladders?’ I asked.
‘No, sorry. Follow me,’ he said. ‘I will show you the way out.’
I followed him along the corridor, passing so much activity. This was the centre of all the work that kept this ship afloat, catered for and spruce. The steward took me up some narrow metal stairs, along another corridor of offices, more stairs and then swished open some heavy curtains. Carpets. We were back to a passenger area.
‘Are you all right now, ma’am? Can you find your way from here?’
‘Oh yes, thank you. Thank you so much.’ I noted his name badge. KARIM. I would remember his name.
I knew where I was. One of the lower decks with smaller, more compact cabins, but near the dining room and other amenities. It was back to carpets and modern pictures on the walls.
‘You’ll never find emergency ladders,’ he said before leaving me. ‘It’s off limits. Crew only.’
‘I was only curious.’
‘Not good to be curious,’ he said, disappearing behind the curtain. ‘Other lady curious. She was sorry.’
What did he mean? Was it a warning or was he being polite? For a second I was quite frightened. It sounded like a threat. I needed to lean on my stick, to gather strength from a piece of wood. Other lady curious … did he mean Joanna?
I’d been away for over two hours. Some of the coaches would be returning soon. It was time to give Suna some time off. She’d have run out of letters to write home by now, unless she was going in for the Booker prize.
It wasn’t far to walk to the next pair of lifts. They were empty. I put one foot in, then changed my mind. There was something about the empty lift that I didn’t trust. It looked different but I was not sure how. The walls were mirrored, the inside light was on, but in the reflection I spotted that there was no light on the deck panel. Once the doors closed, it would be impossible to control.
Not a happy thought. Even if it was a genuine malfunction of the lift mechanism. No one likes being stranded in a lift. Poor Miss Brown might have hysterics.
I turned and took to the stairs. My asthma did not enjoy the long trek upwards, deck after deck. I was out of breath by the time I reached A Deck, wig askew. The door to A708 was slightly open which was unusual. Perhaps the steward was servicing the staterooms but his cart of clean towels and sheets was not parked outside.
I pushed the door open cautiously, expecting to see him cleaning the bathroom or making beds. But there was no one there. No Suna either.
There was no one there at all. No Joanna. The covers of her bed were thrown back and the empty bed gave me a shock. She had gone.
‘Joanna?’ I called. ‘Where are you?’
There was no answer. I looked in the bathroom and then in the other stateroom, the one that was mine.
‘Suna?’
They had both gone. No note, no message. Both staterooms were deserted.
It was fortunate in a way because I had forgotten to put Miss Brown in her carrier bag.
TWELVE
Hammerfest
‘Excuse me, who are you? What are you doing in this stateroom?’
Miss Brown had been caught out. I was still swanning about in my brogues and headscarf. I had forgotten to change back to myself. It was a bad mistake.
‘I’m looking for Suna. She said she was working here and she promised to do some sewing for me. My eyes, you know, young man. Not as good as they used to be.’
It was our steward, Ali, with a bucket of ice, renewing our daily supply. I blessed him for being so vigilant.
‘Do you know where she is?’ I went on.
He shook his head. ‘There is no one here. Please to come back later.’
‘Of course. Thank you. I’ll come back later.’
I retreated with a scurry and a limp. Straight to the nearest ladies where Miss Brown went back in the bag and a crumpled Jordan Lacey emerged, shaking out her hair. I strolled back to the staterooms, remembering not to scurry or limp, and immediately phoned the medical centre.
‘Can I speak to Dr Russell?’ I said in Jordan Lacey voice.
‘Sorry, he’s with a patient.’
‘Could you give him a message? It’s quite urgent. Could you ask him if he has removed Mrs Carter.’
There was a pause while the receptionist wrote it down. ‘Who’s speaking, please?’
‘Jordan Lacey. Stateroom A710.’
Then I phoned Staff Captain Duncan. He wasn’t there either and I left a message on his answerphone. I didn’t know what to do. I could hardly search the whole of the ship for a woman in a trance. Though it might be worth doing a bar crawl. That base instinct might have survived. She hadn’t had a drink for several days. I wished I had questioned our steward but he’d disappeared too. Was everyone disappearing? Would I suddenly find myself on a ghost ship, bereft of passengers, roaming the deserted decks in search of another human being?
I rushed out in a ridiculous dread and collided with Dr Russell.
‘Max,’ I gulped.
He gripped my arm, none too gently. ‘Hold on, Jordan. What’s the matter?’
‘Joanna Carter. She’s gone. Have you got her?’
‘What do you mean? Have I got her? In the hospital, you mean? No, I haven’t. She’s not in the medical centre. Have you checked the bathrooms? She might have fallen.’
‘Of course I’ve checked. They were the first places I looked. People are always slipping in bathrooms. It’s all that wet floor. But she’s nowhere. She’s gone. So has Suna.’ I think I was shaking by now. How could I have lost Joanna? I should have stayed with her every minute of the day, never taken my eyes off her.
Max went into the bathrooms and then out on to the balcony, peering over the rail. He strode back and rang the bell for the steward, who arrived faster than sound. Ali’s pleasant face looked concerned, not understanding what was going on.
‘Please make some tea for Miss Lacey. She has had a bad shock.’
‘Certainly, doctor. Immediately.’
‘Did you see Mrs Carter and Suna leaving the stateroom?’
‘No, doctor. I see no one leave. I do see strange old lady looking for Suna for sewing.’
‘Can you describe her? Do you know her name?’
‘No, sir. Very funny looking, big glasses and grey hair and a walking stick. I never seen her before.’
Max’s face was expressionless. ‘Thank you. I’ll look after Miss Lacey now.’
I took the tea and sipped it. Ali remembered that I took honey and it was sweet. But I didn’t want to sit and wait for something to happen. I wanted to be out there looking for her.
‘She m-might have fallen overboard,’ I said. ‘We ought to go and look. Can’t we do something?’
‘I’ll report it immediately to the captain and he’ll alert the crew and hotel staff. They’ll be looking for her, be assured. Occasionally we have to look for lost children or confused grannies. Mrs Carter will be easier to spot. Have you noticed anything strange about Mrs Carter today or the staterooms, anything unusual?’
‘I think she may have been eating grapes.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Interesting. Do you mind if I have a look round?’
‘No, of course not.’
I hoped he wouldn’t look in the back of my wardrobe and find Miss Brow
n in a bag. He was far too quick on the uptake for my liking.
But he was back before I could get too worried. He had some medication, packets of prescription tablets in his hand. ‘Did you know she was taking these?’
‘No, I’ve never seen them before. What are they? What are they for?’
‘They are for a certain kind of mental disorder. Perfectly controllable if you take the medication regularly. Schizophrenia. But if the drugs are withheld from a patient, they can go into a trancelike state.’
I tried to take this in. I knew little about mental illnesses, a bit about depression. It was alarming news, hardly believable. ‘Good heavens, the trance … then it could have been because of that, not shock or what we thought.’
‘Exactly. Remember I asked you if she took any medication.’
‘But I didn’t know. I’m hardly her nanny.’
‘Surely you knew? You are her friend.’
‘Not that friendly.’ I almost snapped the answer. It sounded as if he was accusing me of something. He was looking at me distantly. The pleasant look had vanished, wiped off his face.
‘I’ll phone Captain Armitage.’ He switched on his mobile and went into the other stateroom to speak to him. I tried not to listen. He might be saying something about my incompetence.
‘Sorry,’ I said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean to sound like that. Joanna Carter employs me, that’s all. She employed me to travel with her. She was afraid for her life. She thought someone was trying to kill her so I’m on this cruise as her bodyguard. Great job I’m making of it, too. She’ll probably sack me. If we ever find her.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this?’
‘It was nothing to do with the attack on her.’
‘It was everything to do with the attack on her,’ he said, glaring at me. ‘You should have told me.’
‘I was more concerned with Joanna.’
‘You didn’t trust me,’ he said.
‘I couldn’t trust anyone.’ My tea was getting cold. I was feeling as cold. Max didn’t trust me. I had lost my only friend. It was devastating. Somehow I gathered together my pride and my strength. I would have to go it alone.
Fold and Die (Jordan Lacey Mysteries Book 8) Page 10
