by K. J. Rabane
A woman answered the phone. She sounded foreign.
“Could I speak to Owen Madoc please?”
“Who is speaking?”
“Tell him it’s Rowena Shaw.”
I heard her talking to him and then he took the phone.
“How did you find this number?”
“Mark gave it to me. Listen, Owen, don’t hang up, I’m in trouble and I need help.”
“And why should I care?”
“I don’t know. That’s just it. I can’t remember.”
“You’re beginning to sound as mad as she is, now.”
“Please listen. They’re trying to make me think I’m someone else. They’ve taken my house, my identity and robbed me of my inheritance. I’m desperate, or I wouldn’t have phoned you.”
“ I thought so. This isn’t Rowena, is it? It’s Sarah Lawson.”
I could feel panic rising in my throat. I had to make him believe me. “Ring Glyn Morgan. He’ll tell you the truth. He works for the BBC. Ask him to tell you who I am.”
“Don’t ring here again, Sarah or I’ll have you arrested for breaking the order.”
Cradling the phone, I sank to my knees and wept.
Chapter 68
Richie and Sandy walked behind Owen and the woman in the red dress to a bar just off the market square. “It’s good to meet someone who knows Megan and Duncan. I must admit that I miss Gareg Wen, although some of my time there I’d prefer to forget.” Owen showed them to a table in the shade of a Eucalyptus tree, as a waiter stood aside with a nod in his direction.
After insisting on buying the drinks, Richie said, “You mentioned that you had a few problems living in Gareg Wen. I gather from Megan Lloyd Jones that there was a fire at your cottage.”
Owen looked up from his beer and frowned. “Forgive me but it sounds as though you have been discussing me with Megan. If so, it’s a bit odd that you and I should meet by chance, don’t you think?”
He held his hands up in mock defeat. “Rumbled. I’m sorry to have resorted to subterfuge in order to talk to you but I really need to ask you a few questions and I couldn’t take the chance that, if you knew why, you’d refuse.”
The women had finished their drinks but before the waiter could bring more, Sandy stood up. “Connie, I wonder if you’d consider coming with me to the stall we visited earlier? I’ve decided to buy that skirt and I’d like another woman’s opinion, also some help with the language. Shall we leave them to it for a while?”
Consuella picked up her sunglasses from the table. “Suits me. See you later boys.” Her heavily accented English made the casual words sound exotic.
“Let me buy you another drink. I owe you that at least. Then I’ll explain.” Richie hailed the waiter and prayed that Madoc wouldn’t refuse his request.
When he’d finished talking Owen bit his bottom lip, ran his finger around the rim of his glass and sighed heavily. “Do you believe that your client is Rowena?”
“I’m keeping an open mind. But I will say this – she believes it – of that I have no doubt. Whether it’s as a result of the trauma induced by the fire or not, I can’t say.”
“The woman in my flat that night was Sarah Lawson. Rowena rang me and told me what had happened and that she’d left her alone. She was furious, not only with me but also with Sarah, who was playing games again. As soon as she realised that there was no possibility of me turning up she left.”
“And you believed her?”
“Of course. Rowena is not, and has never been, a liar. She will always tell the truth, even if it’s not pretty. Besides the fire officer’s report said that a smouldering cigarette was responsible for starting the fire and I know that Rowena has never smoked.”
“Perhaps she started, with the stress of the wedding being cancelled etc.”
“No, not possible. Rowena’s father, whom she adored, was a heavy smoker and died prematurely thanks to lung cancer. She hates the things.”
Richie raised his glass and drank deeply, feeling the ice-cold beer slaking his thirst, whilst the sun slid through the leaves of the Eucalyptus tree making a pattern on his arms. He was thoughtful, then said, “The woman’s face was burned, I understand?”
“Yes, apparently it looked as if she’d been overcome by smoke and fumes and had fallen asleep on the couch. She was lucky to be alive. Much as I dislike Sarah Lawson, I wouldn’t have wished that to happen, even though she started it all and I’m not just referring to the fire. But I’ll never forgive her for the part she played in ruining my relationship with Rowena. Do you know, I’ve had a couple of phone calls from her recently?”
“What did she say?”
“I don’t know. I could see the number was hers so didn’t answer them.”
“That phone is the one my client is using. She told me that it contained Sarah Lawson’s contacts. If she’s Rowena perhaps it might be worthwhile speaking to her, should she phone again.”
Owen’s rueful expression followed by the shake of his head gave him his answer. He tried another tack. “My client’s face is relatively free from disfigurement apart from some scars under her fringe. How could that be, if she was badly burned; surely it would be more obvious?”
Owen sighed. “The fire brigade arrived in time to prevent significant scarring so I understand. The plastic surgeon was a top man in his field and apparently her reconstructive surgery healed very quickly or so her brother told me before I left for Spain.”
“I know it’s a long shot but I don’t suppose you’ve any photos of Rowena Shaw?”
Owen slipped his hand into his pocket and removed a leather wallet. “Here.”
The woman in the photograph was not unlike his client but not enough to confirm that it was she. He was disappointed but realised it was unlikely to be that easy. “And your friend doesn’t mind you carrying a photo of your ex around with you?”
“Connie?” he laughed. “Consuela is my housekeeper. Once a week we come to the market to shop and drink beer in this bar then I take her back to her brother’s farm. She looks after my house and as you say she’s my friend but there’s nothing more.”
“She’s quite a looker.”
“I’m sure her boyfriend would agree with you,” Owen remarked.
“I thought I heard her call you darling, earlier.”
“Connie calls everyone darling. It’s her thing.”
“Well it looks as if shopping’s her thing too,” Richie said as the girls returned armed with carrier bags. “I appreciate all the help and sorry I couldn’t be more upfront from the start.”
Owen held out his hand. “No problem. Good luck, I hope she doesn’t cause you too much trouble; Sarah Lawson is some sick psycho.”
“You’re certain my client is, Sarah?”
“Positive, Rowena’s been living in the States for ages.”
Chapter 69
Sandy was waiting for him in the office when he arrived on Monday morning. Harry was making the tea. “There’s news. Apparently Rowena Shaw’s been trying to contact you. She wants you to ring her the minute you get in.” Sandy’s face and arms were glowing. He could see the white marks left by the necklace she’d been wearing in Spain. It was the one he’d bought her in Covent Garden. He wondered how Angie was getting along and found that the thought of her brought on a smile.
Half an hour later his client was sitting opposite him. She looked different and it took a while to realise that the change was in her expression. She seemed more confident, less confused.
“And you say that this old friend of yours recognised you as Rowena Shaw?”
“He did. I’ve his telephone number if you want to confirm it. It was such a relief, Mr Stevens. You can’t imagine what it feels like to have no one believe you.”
Richie nodded. “And you visited the Hermitage and spoke to Sarah Lawson’s doctor?”
Her expression changed briefly to one of exasperation. “ I don’t understand any of it. There was a fire and I lost my memory but only
for the events surrounding the incident. Apparently I started insisting I was Rowena Shaw soon after I recovered, but no one would believe me.”
He wondered whether now would be the best time to tell her and decided it would be. He began explaining how he’d managed to track down her former fiancé in Spain.
“You did? Oh that’s fantastic news. Owen will know who I am. He wouldn’t talk to me on the telephone. He was sure I was that woman.” Her smile transformed her face so that he had a glimpse of someone quite different. He didn’t relish her disappointment when he started to explain what he’d learned in Spain but now there was now no other option.
“I’m not sure how much you’ve been told about the accident but Owen Madoc said that prior to the fire Sarah Lawson had been making his life a misery,” Richie told her what he knew.
“I see. At least I think I do. But to be honest, I’m not really sure. Bits of it have been coming back since I visited the Hermitage. I’m not certain how reliable my memory is though.” She frowned trying to make sense of the fact that her fiancé had all the while been battling with a vicious stalker in the shape of Sarah Lawson.
“How much of the accident do you remember?” he asked.
“Nothing at all. I remember going up in the lift to Owen’s flat. I remember someone opening the door but that’s all until I woke up in the hospital.”
“Do you remember Sarah Lawson?”
“I’m not sure. Part of me thinks I do but then the details slip away and I’m left confused. I was extremely busy in work, I do remember that, most of that year was spent in the States and when I was home I had a wedding to arrange.”
The air was stuffy in the office; Richie stood up, walked over to the window and opened it wider. He looked down into the street. Shoppers scurried by accompanied by the distant hum of traffic.
“Mr Madoc said one of the reasons he was drawn to her was that she reminded him of you.”
She sighed. “There must have been some facial resemblance between us, which would account for some of the reactions I’ve had from total strangers.” She shook her head and frowned.
“What is it?” Richie walked towards her.
“I do remember something. It’s nothing really.” She stood up and walked over to the open window. “But I was at the Gallery and Mark Furnish mistook me for her. He laughed it off and I thought nothing of it. But it happened again a week or so later, I saw Mario, a waiter at Luigi’s, who asked if I’d enjoyed the squid on Saturday night. I said I’d been in Edinburgh working for the past ten days. He looked embarrassed and said he was sorry, he’d been mistaken.” She suddenly turned to face him, her smile was genuine and it changed her face completely.“ I do remember her. I remember Sarah Lawson!”
He was amazed at the change in her. It was impossible to believe her reaction was not genuine.
“When I first met her she looked different. But later…..”
“So what was it that made the difference? Changing her hair, make up, clothes? What was it exactly?”
“It was all of that that. She began to dress like me. On one occasion she was actually wearing the same dress, she had her teeth whitened, took trouble with her make up. But it wasn’t just that. It’s difficult to explain exactly.”
“Do you think it could have been an attempt to emulate someone she admired? They say it’s the sincerest form of flattery.”
“I wish that was the case. But now I know it was definitely something more sinister than that.”
“Well it certainly looks as if your memory is returning. We’ll soon sort out this mess.”
She clasped his hand. “For the first time since this nightmare began, I believe you will.”
“Thank you, Miss Shaw. I’ll be in touch with more news as soon as I’ve completed a few further enquiries.” Richie stood up and walked with her to the door of the outer office.
As the sound of her footsteps echoed down the stairwell, Sandy stopped typing and frowned. “What’s up Doc?” she asked.
“The end is in sight, Miss Smith. Now let me have another look at that photograph Madoc gave us. Then ring this number and ask to speak to Glyn Morgan.”
Chapter 70
The Outback Steakhouse was busy; holidaymakers, keen to take advantage of the huge meals and copious amounts of liquid refreshment available, indulged their appetites to the full. Rowena Miller smiled at her husband but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. He was grossly overweight, which was why he liked to eat at the Outback. She’d imagined marriage to Clint Miller would be the answer. He was certainly wealthy, they had a nice house in Florida and a holiday home in Clearwater but it wasn’t enough. She missed Owen.
“Eat up hun, you haven’t touched your pancakes.” Clint patted her hand and she fought to hide her revulsion as sauce dripped from his chin on to the napkin he’d tucked into the neck of his tee shirt.
She’d been living in Florida ever since Clint Miller had called into the New York offices of Aston and Cooper and had decided that she was the one for him. It was after Owen had moved to Spain. She couldn’t face going home, not after all that had happened, so Clint Miller had seemed the best option at the time. After they were married, it took her little over six months to realise that money wasn’t everything and to think about how she was going to escape. Clint was kind, bought her everything she wanted but the sight of his large body sliding into bed next to her night after night made her want to vomit.
The trouble was she’d become lazy. The thought of losing the comfortable lifestyle and having to start all over again scared her. Clint was a shrewd businessman and in spite of his desperation to marry her had insisted that his attorney draw up a pre-nuptial agreement stating, if his wife divorced him before they’d been together for ten years she would not receive a penny of his vast fortune. But if the marriage lasted longer than ten years, a generous settlement, which would be agreed upon between them, would come into force.
Rowena toyed at the pancake with the tip of her fork. The thought of spending the next nine years with the man sitting opposite her was almost too much to bear.
Later, at home listening to Clint snoring alongside her, she slipped her legs over the side of the bed and walked through the double doors on to the balcony. The cruiser was moored to the jetty at the bottom of the garden next to one owned by the film director, who’d made his name with the Midnight Trilogy. There was a party on board. She could hear laughter and the faint sounds of music drifting towards her on the warm night air. She twisted her wedding band around her finger and took a deep breath. If only she could hear Owen’s voice, it would make life more bearable. The popping of champagne corks aboard the cruiser brought back memories of her meals with Owen, the bustle of Covent Garden and London life in general. She’d loved strolling around the market stalls and taking the river boat down the Thames to Camden Lock and St Catherine’s Dock. Nostalgic tears slid down her cheek and she wiped them away angrily, remembering Gareg Wen.
“What you doing out here, honey?” Clint stood behind her, his hair ruffled from sleep.
“Nothing, just looking, I couldn’t sleep. Go back to bed, there’s nothing wrong.”
“I think you could do with a holiday. What d’you say?”
In the darkness Rowena closed her eyes.
“Let’s go to Europe. We could take in Austria, Italy, Spain; I know you don’t want to go to the UK. It would be like a second honeymoon.” He sat alongside her watching the dancing lights from cruiser where the party was now in full swing.
At the mention of Spain Rowena felt her heart begin to race. “Yes. I’d like that.”
Clint kissed the top of her head. “I’ll get Bobby on to it tomorrow. He’ll book everything. Now come back to bed and let’s get started on this second honeymoon.”
There were times when Rowena missed working, not at first, meeting Clint had been the answer to her prayers then. Working at Aston and Cooper was becoming more and more difficult as there were contracts in the UK to fulfil. There
was the little problem of Lewis Daly too. He was making life difficult, kept asking questions but after the wedding they’d moved to Florida and she’d felt safe for the first time in ages. However, time had moved on. The prospect of visiting Spain and seeing Owen again filled her thoughts. Clint was out fishing. She picked up the telephone.
“Hi Bobby; it’s Rowena. How are you? “
“Hey there Row, good to hear you. Excited about the trip?”
“That’s why I’m ringing. Clint mentioned that we’d be taking in a visit to Spain and I’ve always wanted to see a place I know in the north of the country. I remember going there with my family when I was young. It’s a small village, approximately thirty odd miles from the French border, called Los Christophe.”
“Sure, no problem, as a matter of fact, I’m about to put the whole package together, so that takes care of Spain.”
“Thank you so much, Bobby. Oh, and if Clint asks, we haven’t had this conversation. I want to keep it surprise for him.”
“What conversation?” Bobby replied.
Her excitement lasted all day. She fired up the barbecue ready for when Clint returned, had a bottle of champagne chilling in the fridge and felt alive for the first time in ages. It was time she put things right between them, Owen Madoc had always been the love of her life and she intended to tell him so at the first opportunity.
Chapter 71
The thunderstorm took everyone by surprise. In the market square of Los Christophe Owen sheltered in the recessed doorway of a shop selling wooden toys. His hair was plastered to his head and his shirt was sticking to him. Stallholders hurried to protect their wares from the torrential rain, which was collecting in gigantic puddles in the overhead canvas awnings, which threatened to collapse. Rain bounced off the cobbles and the drains refused to take more water, adding to the chaos. It was not unusual for floods in this part of Spain; Los Christophe’s proximity to the Pyrenees meant that the area often suffered from flooding. It was part of its charm and reminded him of the Welsh countryside where he’d grown up.
