by Penny Grubb
Soften it for whom? What exactly am I expecting him to do?
Annie didn’t begrudge the time spent immobile in a tall armchair if this was what her aunt wanted, but the inactivity kept pictures flashing through her mind – straw dolls reached out, snatched away her childhood memories, stole all her security, then turned inward and ripped each other to shreds. She felt at the mobile in her pocket. Why had it remained silent? Why hadn’t her senior partner, Pieternel, called from London to say she’d salvaged the business at the eleventh hour? She resisted the urge to ring. She’d just be an irritation, phoning without good reason, and anyway she didn’t want to tempt fate while there was still hope. Pieternel had talked about having irons in the fire and hers was the business mind. She’d get them through if anyone could. Except Annie knew her hopes were quicksand, or she would have heard something by now.
‘Would you three like to join a Scrabble-bee?’ Annie looked up into the benevolently smiling face of an old man as her aunt said sharply, ‘My niece doesn’t play. Charlotte and I might join you later.’
Charlotte looked from one to the other of them in surprise. ‘Well … I could soon teach you … It isn’t difficult.’
‘Annie doesn’t play.’ Aunt Marian’s voice set like concrete and was so unlike her usual anodyne tone that both Charlotte and the old man backed off. Aunt Marian rose from her chair. ‘Come with me, Charlotte. We’ll get some coffee for everyone.’
Annie kept a neutral expression as she watched them leave the room. Aunt Marian’s voice, lowered but not enough, floated back to her. ‘Never ask Annie to play Scrabble in company, dear. She fell in with a bad lot at school and you never know what she’ll come out with.’
Annie ducked her head to hide a smile. She wondered how well Charlotte knew Margot, and if she would carry back any of Aunt Marian’s gossip. From the depths of her own financial pit, Annie found herself nursing an avid curiosity about Margot. Just how successful was she now? Tonight in the pub she’d squeeze Charlotte dry of all she knew.
The pub was quiet and made a seamless end to a day of doing nothing. Annie hadn’t expected to relax at all, but her aunt’s world still had the power to soothe her. Not that her father would ever use the word calm in relation to Aunt Marian, but the tiny squalls over mealtimes, about the weather, or the timing of the newspaper delivery came so far under Annie’s radar these days, they didn’t puncture the smooth flow of the day.
She returned from the bar with two drinks, to find Charlotte kneeling up on the seat and peering out of the window. ‘What’s out there?’
‘Uh … nothing.’ Charlotte sat but kept throwing glances over her shoulder.
Annie looked too, and saw nothing but early dusk enfolding the street outside. ‘What is it?’
‘No … nothing. I thought I saw someone I recognized. But it couldn’t have been. I’m sorry, I have to ask. What did you put?’
‘What did I …? Oh, the Scrabble. It was nothing. I was only nine or ten. Someone had ‘adult’ across a triple word score and I put e-r-y after it. Aunt Marian was mortified. I didn’t really know what it meant, I just knew it from the Ten Commandments.’
‘What about this bad lot at school?’
‘School? She doesn’t know the half of it.’
Annie had no qualms talking about this time of her life to Charlotte. No worries about the woman blabbing to anyone. Aunt Marian wouldn’t believe her, and Margot already knew the worst there was to know of Annie’s past. As she gave Charlotte the bones of the story, she remembered the rush of excitement when she’d found the crowd that had the pills, who had contacts in town who would smuggle in all sorts for a price. She had plummeted to the depths before clawing her way out.
‘It can’t have been easy to get yourself out of it.’
‘It wasn’t.’ Annie’s mind tapped the horror of it. A black pit of memory she had barely to touch to ward off temptation. ‘That’s when I learnt to run. Really run. Long distances, the heavier the terrain the better. I could have done with someone like you to help me through it, but I suppose I ran the worst of it out of me.’
‘Someone like me?’
‘A counsellor, I mean. Didn’t you say you’d counselled addicts?’
‘Uh … yeah …’ Charlotte looked away. ‘And you’ve stayed clean?’
Annie laughed and raised her glass. ‘I overdo this stuff sometimes, but only when I’m led astray.’
‘Oh gosh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–’
‘Joke. Don’t worry. I’ve far worse than you to contend with.’ She looked into the amber depths of her glass and thought of the workmate they’d had to sack. Casey Lane. A good worker and fun friend, but moderation wasn’t in Casey’s vocabulary. ‘In fact, we’ve just sacked the world’s worst bad influence.’
‘For drugs?’
‘Kind of.’ Annie shrugged. It had been the official excuse. We sacked her because one of our investors went bust at just the wrong moment and the business is going down the pan. If nothing turns up, we’ll be history in a couple of months.
‘So it’s just you and Pieternel? Does that mean you’re on the lookout for work?’
Annie watched Charlotte key herself up to ask something – something a PI might have the answer to – and felt a stab of curiosity about the mystery Lorraine. She let a shrug be her only answer, and said, ‘No, there’s three of us. Dean’s someone Pieternel knew from way back. He’s an IT whizz. Cut Dean and he bleeds silicon.’ She looked Charlotte in the eye, and held her voice steady, conversational. ‘So you went to see Lorraine in hospital?’
Charlotte said nothing for a moment and then blurted out, ‘Look, how well do you know Margot?’
‘I never see her these days. I’m not going to talk to her about you, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
‘I only went to see Lorraine because … Well, because she knew someone I … uh … wanted to speak to. I didn’t know anything about this accident she’d had. Or the hallucinations or anything. She told me a load of lies about why she was there. I didn’t get to speak to her again. Her brother came and took her away. I only found out the detail when I looked out her records. Look, you won’t tell Margot, will you?’
Annie shook her head. ‘No, ’course not. And did you find the place where Lorraine fell?’
Charlotte blew out a sigh. ‘I don’t think so. The description was so sketchy. Your aunt helped me on where to start.’
‘So you didn’t find anything?’
‘Oh … well …’ Charlotte’s eyes slid away from Annie’s and she busied herself with her drink.
Annie remembered the call she’d overheard. I followed the path Lorraine took. There was something really odd …
‘There was something that didn’t quite gel.’ Charlotte’s expression was troubled. ‘I contacted Margot.’
So that’s who she rang. Annie let her eyebrows shoot up. ‘And what did she say?’
‘It was out of office hours. Though it was odd … Anyway, I left a message. I expected her to get back to me, but she hasn’t. I don’t really like to ring again.’
They were both hanging on hopes of a call from London.
‘So what does my aunt think you want help with? From me, I mean?’
Charlotte, with her glass at her lips, changed a sip to a gulp, and gave a laugh that was more to do with alcohol than mirth. ‘It isn’t to do with me really. People are always telling me not to interfere. It’s a friend. A friend-of-a-friend, actually.’
‘What’s the matter with this friend-of-a-friend?’
‘Her sister’s disappeared and she wants to find her. Lorraine knew her.’
‘Has this friend-of-a-friend reported her sister as a missing person?’
‘No, she doesn’t want to do that in case it was intentional. The sister’s a bit of a head case, and she might have got into trouble. She … look you mustn’t say anything, but she had this plan to fake her own death. She said specifically not to make waves if anything happened … seemed
to have happened …’
‘And has anything seemed to have happened?’
‘Uh … well, not really, but then suppose she faked an accident or something. It wouldn’t necessarily get much publicity.’
‘But wouldn’t she have told her sister? What did she plan to do?’
‘Oh, my friend didn’t have any details. But she’s worried that her sister’s trying to blackmail someone. Someone dangerous.’
Annie noted that the friend-of-a-friend had now become a friend. ‘And get away with it by faking her own death? Your friend needs to go to the police.’
‘Yes, but … you won’t say anything, will you? I know your father’s … well, it’s nothing to do with anything around here.’
‘No, I won’t say anything.’ Her father had enough on his plate.
‘How about you? Are you looking for work? I mean, just suppose … I’ll advise her to go to the police, of course, but I know she’d want to try other avenues first. It’s really difficult … for my friend I mean. She got this note that said not to make a fuss if she heard her sister had died, but she hasn’t heard anything.’
‘What did the note say?’
‘It said “I need them to think I’m dead”. What would it cost to have someone like you do some digging?’
Annie felt through her pockets. ‘I’ve a leaflet somewhere. Here you are. Retainer, hourly rates, expenses. It’s all on the back.’
She saw Charlotte’s eyes widen. ‘Good heavens! I’d no idea it would be as much as that.’
‘Like I said, tell her to go to the police. They’re free.’
They sat in silence for a while. Annie listened to the low buzz of conversation and glanced out through the window behind Charlotte. It was dark now. ‘When you said you rang Margot and left her a message, you said, “though it was odd …” and you stopped. What did you mean?’
‘Nothing really, just that the answer-phone clicked off.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘It was like someone had picked up the phone and put it down again. Like they’d listened for a while, then deliberately cut me off.’
Annie woke to a shaft of light that speared through the skylight and made her roll on to her side to avoid its glare. She let the momentum carry her over the edge of the bed. It was time to be up. Mrs Watson ran a tight ship and late risers missed breakfast. Before going down, she threw her things into her rucksack.
She’d stay with her aunt until after lunch, then head back to her father’s via the smokehouse. They had made a stab at communication, and mustn’t let it slip back, however unnerving it felt beside the polite-strangers comfort zone they’d developed over the years. She paused to peer through the sloping skylight. The loch was visible as a smooth sheet disturbed by an occasional ripple. She watched two birds land creating a rip in the water’s surface. Her father thought the severed leg – legs – had been thrown in down there.
Would he expect her to stay on in Scotland once he knew about the business? She’d explain that she couldn’t. She had to go back and fight side by side with Pieternel until there wasn’t a glimmer of hope left.
As she reached the hallway, a door banged and footsteps click-clacked down the corridor. Annie turned to see Mrs Watson, face grim, brandishing an egg-slice.
‘Annie. A quick word, please, before your aunt comes down.’ The tone made Annie feel ten years old. ‘I couldn’t fail to notice, Annie, that … Ah, Charlotte. This concerns you too.’
Footsteps pattered down the stairs and Annie was aware of Charlotte close beside her. The tactical naivety of cramming herself close to Annie, made them into errant schoolgirls and left Mrs Watson, with her egg-slice, in the dominant position facing them. Annie fought to suppress a smile at the picture they must pose, as they stood meekly to receive a lecture on coming in late and making a noise that might disturb the other guests. ‘… especially you, Annie. Your room’s just above ours, as well you know. Both Mr Watson and I have to be up early. We’re not on holiday.’
No, thought Annie, but I bet you charge Aunt Marian full whack for that box room I sleep in when I’m here. The lecture at an end, she turned to head for the breakfast room. But Mrs Watson hadn’t quite finished. ‘Someone called to see you, Charlotte. Late last night. I had to say you were out and I’d no idea where you were. No message.’ With that, she spun on her heel and stalked back towards the kitchen.
Charlotte turned a horrified face to Annie. ‘Oh Lord! Margot!’
‘Margot? Why on earth would it be Margot?’
‘That call I made. It must have been more important than I thought. Oh crumbs … Mrs Watson?’ Charlotte called out towards the retreating back. ‘Mrs Watson, did she leave a name? What did she look like?’
For a moment, Annie thought Mrs Watson would express her displeasure by pretending not to hear, but as she reached the kitchen door, she half turned her head. ‘It was a man.’
‘Oh, thank heavens.’ Charlotte almost sank at the knees.
Annie laughed. ‘You’ve been spending too much time with my aunt. You’re getting paranoid. Margot’s not going to chase all the way up here after you.’
‘No, I suppose not. But I wonder … Oh well, never mind.’
They went to join the other guests at breakfast.
Annie wanted to spend her last morning on her own with her aunt. One morning of semi-normal holiday. Charlotte would understand. She probably didn’t want to tag along all the time anyway. If the weather held, they’d amble round the shops or along the water’s edge. Annie felt a chill at the thought of standing at the point where, if her father had it right, the leg had been thrown in the loch. She turned to locate Charlotte, to have a word before Aunt Marian appeared.
The breakfast room had the bleak early morning feel of a waiting room. A few of the guests sat reading newspapers as they crunched toast. Annie pushed herself to her feet and stretched. The view from the window showed the makings of a warm day, perfect for a morning’s stroll down into the heart of the village, followed by lunch in one of the pubs. Aunt Marian would like that.
Charlotte was in the hall. Annie, about to speak, realized Charlotte was fiddling with her phone. She cast an anxious glance at the stairs, wanting to speak to Charlotte on her own. Her aunt would consider it the height of ill-manners to exclude their new friend. She kept half an ear on Charlotte’s call, half an eye on the staircase.
‘Hello … uh … You sent me a text … asked me to … Oh Lord! It’s you … Yes, it’s me, Charlotte.’ Annie heard amazed recognition in Charlotte’s voice, and saw her head duck down, as one foot twisted to rub the other ankle as though trying to polish her shoe on her trouser leg. No one special, eh? From the embarrassed pleasure in Charlotte’s body language, Annie thought there soon may be.
‘Yes, I know. I’m so sorry. The signal’s really unreliable round here. I … uh … the landlady said someone had called. I never thought. And I could have sworn I saw you … What? Oh, I … uh … I went out for a drink with one of the other guests … Uh, no, a woman visiting her aunt … Yes, that’s right. How did you know? What? Oh, well, yes, I’d love to … What? Now? I haven’t had breakfast … I’d half promised to join my friends here, but … Yes, yes of course. I’ll be there …’
Annie ducked out of sight. Charlotte shot back into the breakfast room, not noticing Annie behind the door, and grabbed her bag. Annie heard the front door slam.
Their gentle amble round the village lasted all morning, and ended with lunch in a pub overlooking the water. Annie let her gaze move south to north along the shoreline. Hadn’t her father said there’d been a report of someone dumping trash? She imagined a shadowy figure standing there, a quick glance round, then swinging the sack in a great arc and flinging it out to sea. Had the rock or whatever was used as ballast torn through the plastic, the killer watching aghast as the bag split open and one leg flew free into the water? The other one, tangled in its protective plastic had swirled its way along the coast until the tide pulled it u
nder the jetty and Freddie Pearson’s rod snared it. If she’d been here a week earlier and looked out of the box room window in the middle of the night …
‘I wonder where Charlotte got to.’
Annie shrugged. With her focus on her aunt, she’d been glad Charlotte had been diverted, but was now mildly curious as to where she’d gone, who she’d met.
‘That business with that client of hers is really preying on her mind,’ her aunt said.
‘D’you know who came to see her last night?’ Annie glanced at her aunt wondering if the grapevine would have any answers. ‘She asked around about the Doll Makers before I got to know her. Maybe it was someone to do with that.’
‘I shouldn’t think so.’ Annie cast her gaze about. For all she knew, any of the people strolling around could be from the reclusive community on the hill. She wouldn’t recognize any but the girl; didn’t even know how many of them were left.
Aunt Marian nodded. ‘No, you’re right. It couldn’t have been one of them. He looked quite disreputable. They’re always neat.’
‘How do you know what he looked like? You went to bed early. Mrs Watson said he called late.’
‘I was watching out over the water, from my room. You know that body young Freddie found in the loch, it probably went in around here, and not so long ago.’
Annie looked up in surprise. She hadn’t said a word about her father’s theories, and the local paper still speculated on the basis of a far older relic. ‘Uh … what makes you think that?’
‘The tides are right.’
‘Anyway, don’t be morbid. And it wasn’t a whole body. They aren’t all neat, you know. The Doll Makers. That young girl looks quite a scruff.’
