'Conrad's Supper Rooms,' he said, hoping it was Mel.
'Am I speaking to Conrad Deeley?' The caller had a deep voice with a rural accent he couldn't place.
'Speaking. How can I help you?'
'My name is Brian Parker. I've been asked to ring you with a message.'
Conrad felt a surge of irrational anger. He was sure this was going to be another wind-up. 'Oh really, where do you want me to rush off to this time?' he said sarcastically.
'I beg your pardon,' the man retorted. 'Camellia Norton gave me your number because she thought you'd be anxious about her. You certainly should be – I found her in a terrible state.'
Conrad's stomach lurched. 'I'm sorry,' he said quickly. 'You caught me off guard. What do you mean, a terrible state? Where is she?'
'On her way to Royal United Hospital,' the man said. 'I'm a farmer, Mr Deeley. I found her in one of my fields about an hour ago. It seems she had been brought to a house somewhere near here and then attacked.'
'Attacked?' Conrad began to shake. 'Who by? Why?' He fumbled for a chair and slumped down on it to listen. He heard how the farmer had gone out to start his milking and found Mel in his field on the point of collapse.
'She's in good hands now,' the man said more gently, perhaps realising how shocked Conrad was. 1 don't think her injuries are serious, but she's in deep shock, suffering from exposure and exhaustion. She had escaped from the man by jumping into the river and then made her way over the fields barefoot. I called the police of course.'
'Who did this?' Conrad was beside himself now, suddenly aware that this might be why he'd been lured away.
'I'm afraid I can't tell you anything more,' the man said. 'She wasn't very coherent as I'm sure you can imagine. All she managed to do was tell me your number.'
'I'll come down there right away,' Conrad said. 'Bath General you say?'
'Will you let me know later how she is?' the man asked. 'Both my wife and I are very concerned.'
'Of course, and thank you for helping her.' Conrad recovered his good manners. 'I'm sorry I was a bit short with you at first. I'll explain why later. Now if you'll just give me your address and phone number?'
Mel was trapped in a thick, cold fog, turning first one way, then another to escape, but her legs wouldn't move and hideous contorted faces kept leering at her through the gloom, with long thin arms reaching out to clutch at her.
She was aware that one of these faces was Edward, his blue eyes the only colour amongst the greyness, but though she felt the others were known to her she didn't recognise them or the voices that were calling to her. She felt something grab her round the neck, like a tentacle from an octopus and as she grappled with it, a wraith-type figure with black holes where eyes should be floated past her cackling with fiendish laughter.
'You should have stayed away,' it called in an eerie wheezing voice.
Somehow she knew this was her mother. She tried to run from her, covering her eyes and ears, but the tentacle held her tightly, slowly squeezing her throat.
'No,' she shouted, lashing out with her hands. 'I don't know anything. It's nothing to do with me.'
'What's nothing to do with you?' A crisp, human voice spoke and suddenly the fog, the tentacle and the wraith vanished. 'Was it a nasty dream?'
Mel opened her eyes and saw a nurse looking down at her. She remembered then that she was in hospital. 'They were all there, trying to get me,' she whispered, her voice a mere croak.
The nurse was barely older than herself, with a sweet face and a pink and white complexion. She put one cool hand on Mel's forehead and smiled soothingly. 'No one's going to get you,' she said firmly. 'You're quite safe here in hospital. I'm Grace Powell, one of the night nurses. Now how about a nice cup of tea and then if you feel up to it perhaps I can let your friend in to see you? He's been waiting so patiently for you to wake up.'
'What friend?' Mel stiffened.
'Mr Deeley,' the nurse replied. 'Don't you want to see him?'
Mel sighed with relief. 'Conrad's here? When did he come? What time is it?'
The nurse laughed softly. 'So many questions. It's nearly eight. By all accounts Mr Deeley's been here since midday. Now let's get you sat up first and see how you feel when you've had some tea.'
Mel's hands were shaking too much to hold a cup, so the nurse gave her one with a spout and held it to her lips for her.
'That's better,' she said approvingly when it was finished. 'Now how do you feel?'
Mel had to get her bearings first. She was in a single room, with a light over her bed and more coming through a glass porthole in the door. She could hear the murmur of voices coming from somewhere else. She guessed her room was just off the main ward and it was visiting time.
'I'm stiff and sore,' she said eventually. 'Every bit of me aches.' She looked down at her arms, covered in deep vivid scratches. Her foot was bandaged and it throbbed. Gingerly she lifted her left hand to her cheek.
'That looks and probably feels worse than it is,' the nurse said in sympathy. 'You've got a nasty black eye and a bump on your head, but your right foot's the only serious injury. You had to have quite a few stitches there. Do you remember being brought in?'
'Vaguely,' Mel said. The big farm kitchen was very clear in her mind. It was warm and a woman with short dark hair had sat her in a chair by an Aga and wrapped her in blankets before feeding her hot, sweet tea. There were pots of geraniums on the windowsill and a smell of frying bacon, and a fat tabby cat had tried to get up on her lap. It had felt like waking with a start from a terrible nightmare, remembering the terror, but being unable to recall actual events. She couldn't do anything but cry and ask them to phone Conrad.
The police and ambulance arrived simultaneously. Mel tried to get a grip on herself, but although she could tell them her attacker's name and that his house was on the river, she had lost all sense of which direction it was in. Later on at the hospital, when another policeman came into her cubicle in the casualty department to question her further she thought she did a little better, but she was so exhausted she kept dropping off.
'From what I hear you had a terrible time with that man.' The nurse sat on the edge of the bed. 'But you mustn't worry anymore. The police are out searching for him, and you are quite safe now. Can Mr Deeley come in? He's been pacing up and down that corridor wearing it out while you were asleep, and Sister insists all visitors leave the ward by eight thirty.'
'Yes, please,' Mel said weakly. She knew the police would be back soon to question her further, but she needed to talk it all over first with someone she could trust.
'Oh Con.' She held up her arms weakly as he came hesitantly through the door. 'You can't know how good it is to see you.'
His appearance brought it home to her that she wasn't the only one who'd been through an ordeal. He looked terrible: unshaven, his eyes bloodshot and his jacket thrown on over a tee shirt. But he embraced her with all his customary warmth, murmuring little endearments with a choked voice.
'You look ghastly,' she said, once he'd lowered her back onto the pillows.
'I've seen you looking better too,' he retorted and his lips quivered. 'My excuse is that the farmer called just as I was about to start shaving. I never thought to finish and get dressed properly before rushing out. Heaven only knows what people here are thinking of me.'
'Just how bad do I look?' she asked. Her jaw ached intolerably, her foot throbbed and her hair smelt and felt like something retrieved from the bottom of a pond.
Conrad wished he could find a jokey reply, but he was too shocked by her injuries for humour. Her left eye was almost closed, in a deep purple mass which spread right down her cheek, and her face was very badly scratched.
He picked up her hand and held it gently. 'You're alive, that's what counts,' he said softly. 'I just hope that when they catch that man someone roughs him up too.'
'It was the one who came into the restaurant and left without eating. The one I said was a Nazi.'
'W
as it?' he said in surprise, pulling up a chair. He had spoken to a police officer earlier while Mel was still asleep and got the gist of what had happened to her, but the police hadn't been able to ascertain why she had left London with a stranger, or what he had to do with her mother. They were even more puzzled by the way she kept repeating Helena Forester's name.
Con listened as she explained how it all came about. 'Well, that at least explains why I had to be lured away,' he sighed. 'The man obviously did a lot of homework.'
'He killed my mother too, Con,' he said.
'The police are a bit puzzled about that, Mel,' he said anxiously. 'I hope you don't mind but I had to fill them in with a bit of your background. They went off to interview both Helena and Magnus.'
'You didn't tell them I thought Magnus was my father?' she gasped.
'No, I didn't,' he reassured her. 'It isn't really relevant to this. I just said you used to work for him and that he was an old friend of your mother's. It seems Helena was staying at Oaklands, though she's got a cottage somewhere nearby now. Apparently Magnus has been escorting her around quite a bit.'
Mel's stomach lurched. 'Then he must be in this too?'
Conrad looked puzzled, brown eyes blinking hard behind his glasses. 'What on earth makes you say that?'
She began to cry. All the thoughts she'd collated together in the last twenty-four hours had led her to believe Edward had been alone in disposing of Bonny, although perhaps ordered to do so by Helena. But Magnus had good reason at that time to want Bonny silenced too, whatever he'd said to the contrary. Wasn't it just possible that he took an active part in the conspiracy?
'I don't know why I didn't see it before. They're all in it together,' she sobbed. 'It's a horrible tangled web and I can't trust anyone anymore. Now I understand why Magnus had that stroke. He thought it was all going to come to light. Once he found the letters after I left Oaklands he must have thought I'd discovered more than I told him. He got in touch with Helena and they cooked up the appeal to find me just to get rid of me once and for all.'
All Conrad knew of Magnus were stories from Mel, and he'd often cynically considered that he couldn't be quite the paragon of virtue she described, not if he had an affair with another woman while claiming to love his wife. He knew nothing about Sir Miles and all he knew of Helena was from film magazines. But he couldn't possibly imagine all three such well-known people conspiring to kill Bonny or Mel.
He expressed this view to Mel.
'I agree there's something very fishy about it all,' he added. 'But I don't agree Helena and Magnus are responsible for Edward coming after you.'
'Magnus might not be, but she is,' she insisted.
Conrad felt she was temporarily unhinged and that aside from offering her affection and concern, he could do and say nothing that would make her feel less threatened at the present.
'I think you should sleep on this,' he said. 'I'll drive home to London now and return tomorrow after I've put a note on the door saying we're closed for a few days. I'll bring down some washing things and a nightdress for you, and we'll talk about it again then.'
She just continued to sob.
'Go back to sleep, Mel,' he said, bending over to kiss her goodbye. 'You are safe in here. I promise you it will all look different in the morning.'
Grace Powell came in the next morning with some breakfast on a tray. Last night after Conrad had left Mel had been very weepy and Grace had sat with her for some time to comfort her. But she had been pleased to see a big improvement today; earlier Mel had drunk a cup of tea unaided and asked to be allowed to get up to use the toilet.
'I'm going off duty soon,' Grace said. 'But I intend to see you eat all this before I go. I've got porridge and scrambled eggs for you with soft bread and butter, so don't make the excuse you can't eat it.'
'I'm actually hungry,' Mel said in some surprise. 'In fact I feel much better.'
'Then you'll be even more pleased to hear we've had three inquiries about you in the last half hour.' Grace put the tray on the bed trolley, then helped Mel to sit up. 'The famous Helena Forester no less, someone called Osbourne with a sexy deep voice and last, but I don't think least, Nick.'
'Nick?' Mel almost leapt out of bed.
'I had a feeling that name would get some response,' Grace laughed. 'He sounded a real dish. Said to give you his love and he was driving down from London today. He said he has a million things to tell you.'
After a long and deep sleep Mel felt able to look at things a little more dispassionately. 'What did Osbourne of the sexy voice say?' she asked. 'That's Nick's father,' she added with a smile.
'His concern for you came down the line like hot syrup,' Grace said with a smile. 'He asked me lots of things about your injuries but his message was "Tell her I want to come and bring her home".'
Mel's eyes prickled and a lump came up in her throat.
'Don't you dare start crying again,' Grace said severely. 'I felt sorry for you last night – I didn't think you had anyone in the world but Mr Deeley. Now I know you've got so many chums I won't waste any more sympathy.'
Mel wanted to laugh, but her face hurt too much to do anything more than chuckle.
'Well don't you want to hear what Miss Helena Forester, star of stage and screen, had to say?'
'Not really,' Mel shrugged. This morning she might be prepared to give Magnus the benefit of the doubt, but she'd hardened her heart to Helena.
'Well, I'm going to tell you anyway. She said, "Tell Camellia that I'm devastated by what has happened and that my thoughts and prayers are all for her." She also asked if she could pay for you to have a private room.'
Mel made no reply but went on to eat her breakfast.
'I told her you were in a room on your own.' Grace sat down on the end of the bed. 'I wish you'd tell me the whole story. I know there's a lot more to it than you've said.'
Mel looked up from her porridge. She could see the nurse was bursting with curiosity. 'Yes, there is, Grace, but some of it still baffles me, so I can't really explain to anyone. But in the meantime I don't want any visitors aside from Conrad, not even Nick. And I don't want anyone shifting their guilt by trying to pay for my treatment.'
Grace's blue eyes opened wide in astonishment. She had already seen the papers this morning and Edward Manning's picture was on the front of it, with an appeal for anyone who might see him to contact the police. Mel wasn't named as his victim, but they'd made a big thing of Manning's role as Helena Forester's manager. One of the other nurses had passed on the news that the actress had been staying at Oaklands, and Grace already knew that Osbourne owned the hotel.
But now Mel was saying she didn't want to see anyone aside from the skinny little chap who looked like a librarian. She just couldn't make head nor tail of what was going on.
'The police rang to ask how you were, but Sister spoke to them,' she went on. 'They are coming in soon to see you. Do you want me to tell the Day Staff to send them packing too?'
Mel looked up and smiled. 'You can't send police packing,' she said. 'But I mean it about the other visitors. I don't want to see them. However much fuss they make.'
'Just tell me why?' Grace pleaded.
'Because, my nosy little nurse, I'm confused and I need time to come to terms with everything.'
The nurse waited until Mel had eaten everything, then took away the tray. 'I'll see you this evening,' she said as she left the room. 'Don't try walking on that foot either.'
The police came just after nine, in plain clothes. Williams, a frosty-faced WPC, was about thirty-five with bad skin and red hair. Her male companion who looked about fifty, introduced himself as Price, not mentioning his rank. He was humourless, a thin, rather seedy-looking man in a beige trench-coat, with bleak pale-blue eyes and thinning hair. Mel had to assume the policewoman had been brought along as a witness. She didn't speak throughout the interview.
Mel had felt quite calm and collected until Price began questioning her in depth, but within minutes
he made her feel tense and frightened again. He took her right back to the first time she saw Edward Manning in the restaurant, then every step of the way until she finally reached the farm where the police were called the next morning.
He pulled her up on every last thing. What Manning was wearing, the car he drove. What he spoke about on the journey to the West Country, his manner towards her and why she should suddenly feel threatened when they got to the house by the river.
When she reached the point when she suspected Edward had put a sedative in her tea, Price looked disbelieving. He kept stopping her, questioning why she didn't panic if she thought she was in such danger. The way he raised one eyebrow when she explained how she decided to fake sleep gave her the distinct impression Price thought she had an overactive imagination.
'I just knew he intended to kill me,' she said stubbornly. 'I was terrified, of course, but playing along with him was my only option. If he'd known I'd tumbled what he was doing he might have knocked me out. Anyway as it turned out I was right about him and his plan to get rid of me. Why else did he come back into the room wearing a mackintosh and waders?'
When Price didn't reply immediately Mel grew angry.
'I suppose you think I've made the whole thing up. That I'm some sort of loony that races barefoot around the country in a storm for attention? Why don't you look for the house and check it all out.'
Price smiled as if she was a simple-minded child. 'We have found the house. We checked it out yesterday afternoon. Manning's grandmother lived there until her death some fifteen years ago. But we didn't find any evidence that anyone but Manning had been there. Not your shoes, overnight bag or raincoat. We could find no sedatives there either. Of course it's possible he returned to the house after you escaped him and cleared all these things away, but that seems unlikely if he was quite as deranged as you say, especially as you have claimed he came after you in his car later.'
'He was going to kill me, just like he killed my mother,' she insisted. 'I suppose Helena Forester has convinced you that I'm the crazy one, that I freaked out for no reason and jumped in the river to make my story look good. But then she would, she's up to her ears in this.'
Camellia Page 54
