I was lost in my thoughts as I walked up the steps and out of the water, and as I dried myself with one of Shirley’s big white towels, until a sound to my left broke through. I glanced at the glazed garden door and saw her framed in it, smiling. She winked at me, then disappeared into her fortress.
The door of Frank’s bedroom was open, an invitation, I had no doubt. I could see him in the light from the corridor, lying naked, on his back, asleep. I confess that I almost did settle down beside him, but my resolution held and I walked on, closing my own door behind me.
Twenty-seven
I had no more crying dreams. I did have a bad one, though, one that involved Frank, Sebastian and Willie, Lidia, Auntie Ade, Emil Caballero and his gun. We were all in the burned-out barn, at the site of the so-called casino, and it didn’t have a happy ending, not for Frank and Adrienne, at any rate. I woke up before they got round to me.
He was in the bathroom when I stepped out of my room. I had a towel wrapped around me, but he was in the buff, his back to the open door as he shaved. ‘Put some clothes on,’ I told him, for all that I noticed how pert his bum was. ‘We’re not a couple, so don’t act like it.’ Maybe that was a little harsh, since I’d made the running the night before, but he got the message.
‘Sorry,’ he said, frowning in the mirror.
I couldn’t help it; I laughed, out loud. ‘And what did I tell you yesterday about saying “Sorry”? It won’t work.’
I grabbed a bar of soap, left him to finish in the bathroom, and had a shower outside in the garden, by the pool. The water was cold, but that was what I needed, something to waken me properly. I was still under the spray when Frank came out of the bungalow. ‘What was that you were saying?’ he called across to me, making me feel just a little guilty. I went inside to dry myself. By the time I was dressed and presentable, Shirley was in the garden, back at the table with her standard breakfast, melon, pineapple and coffee, this time for three.
‘You know,’ she remarked, deadpan, as she poured a cup for me, ‘my pool man was saying the other day that I should stop putting chlorine in and use bromide instead. What do you think, Prim?’
I returned her question with another. ‘Is it a softening agent?’
‘So I’ve heard.’
Frank looked at us as if we were daft. I think he was puzzled, genuinely.
‘In that case, I wouldn’t, if I were you,’ I concluded. ‘One never knows the moment.’
We finished breakfast, and sat around for a while, talking about nothing much. I still felt slightly unreal as I contemplated my nocturnal behaviour. It had been good, full-bore sex, far different from the sympathy shag on the train, and the whore within me wanted to rip his clothes off and start all over again. It wasn’t that easy, though. One difficulty was that the rest of me, my sensible, discreet, proper majority, didn’t even fancy him. Another was that in the aftermath, my old ghosts hadn’t been laid as I’d hoped. The opposite in fact: they were starting to haunt me; I was starting to think of New York.
‘So,’ Shirley asked, bringing me back to the present, ‘what’s your game plan for the day?’
‘Check the house, I suppose,’ I replied. ‘Pick up some stuff, and after that maybe show Frank some of the scenery.’
She nodded. ‘Sounds good. But steer clear of L’Escala. I went down there yesterday, to the bank, and it was crawling with people.’ She turned to my cousin. ‘I never asked you, Frank. How long are you staying?’
‘That depends,’ he told her, ‘on how long Primavera will put up with me.’
‘Play your cards right with her and you could be okay for a while yet.’
‘That would be nice,’ he said, ‘but it also depends on my mother. We’re expecting her to show up soon. Once she does, I’ll have some business to sort out in London.’
‘What is your business?’
‘I’m in property these days: sales. Recently I’ve been in Seville, where Prim and I met up.’
She grimaced. ‘Don’t plan on settling down here, in that case.’ I found myself shuddering at the thought. ‘There are too many estate agents here as it is.’
‘I don’t intend to,’ he said, to my private relief. ‘I’ll be moving to another part of Europe soon.’ He looked at me. ‘We should get going. I’ll go across and tidy up.’
‘You’re staying tonight, aren’t you?’ Shirley asked him, hopefully.
‘If that’s okay, and if Mum doesn’t turn up out of the blue.’
‘Bring her if she does. I’ve got plenty of room, and I enjoy company.’
‘We’ll see.’
She gazed after him as he walked away, then turned to me. ‘Well, then?’
‘Well then what?’
‘You know. Well, then?’
‘Were you watching us all that time?’
‘Give me credit for having more class than that. No, I came down to switch the pool lights off, and got to the door just as you were hitting high C. You took my advice, then? It sounded like more than a hug between friends.’
‘It was.’
‘And?’
‘It was nice. I should do it more often.’
‘With the right bloke, yes. Nice, you said. It sounded more than nice.’
‘Okay, more than nice.’
‘Scale out of ten?’
‘Six.’
‘Six!’
‘Okay, seven.’
‘And bonus points or artistic impression, in that case. Gonna try for a higher score?’
‘No. That’s as good as it’s going to get.’
‘Don’t be daft. Enjoy it while he’s around. Who knows? It might be another three years to the next time.’
‘Cheers.’ I chuckled. ‘You do wonders for a girl’s self-esteem.’
‘You know what I meant.’
‘Yes, but he’s so much younger than me. I’ve never had a younger bloke in my life.’
‘Was it so bad?’
‘No.’
‘There you are, then; a whole new world’s opened up for you.’
‘When all I want is the old one back?’
She frowned, and I was instantly sorry I’d said that. ‘You think I don’t want Clive back?’ she asked. ‘Course I do, but I gave up fantasising about it a long time ago.’
‘I’ll try, Shirley. But I can only move on when I’m ready inside. I’d better go now.’ I rose and walked across to the summer-house.
Frank was in the living area, waiting for me, ready to go, with his rucksack slung over his shoulder. ‘Are you sure about going to your house?’ he began. ‘It’s the one place they’re likely to be watching.’
‘And it’s the place where we’ll be safest, once we’re inside. My policeman friend Alex has been keeping an eye on it for me.’
‘No cops!’ he exclaimed. ‘You saw the message. I won’t let you take chances with my mother’s life.’
‘He’s looking out for me,’ I told him, slightly inaccurately, seeing no point in mentioning that he was also on the alert for sightings of Auntie Ade with a young man. ‘But relax. With very little luck, we can get in without being seen by anybody, not even him.’
‘How? We can’t make ourselves invisible.’
‘Damn near it.’ He stood, still looking anxious. I put my hands on his shoulders, and kissed him. ‘Easy now,’ I whispered. ‘It’s going to be all right, I promise you.’
He slipped his arms around my waist, and put his forehead against mine. It felt a little moist. I leaned back, and stroked it. ‘Promise?’ he said.
‘Take it to the bank.’ Our eyes met, neither of us blinking. I felt him hardening against me. ‘Do you want to go to bed for a while?’ I found myself asking.
He shook his head. ‘I couldn’t concentrate. Tonight, if we’re back here. Once we’ve found Mum and got her away from that bastard, but not now.’
‘I’m still not going to tell Susannah,’ I murmured, smiling.
‘Maybe you should. Might make her jealous enough to leave her
husband.’
‘Is that what I am?’ I asked. ‘A weapon to be used against her?’
He hugged me tight. ‘No!’ he replied earnestly. ‘You’re much more than that.’
‘Tonight, then.’ What the hell? Shirley was right, as usual. ‘But first, speaking of weapons, what do you have, apart from your clever wee knife?’
‘Nothing. I used up my mace spray getting away from those two guys. Why?’
‘When we catch up with friend Willie, he’s unlikely to put his hands up and say, “It’s a fair cop,” is he? We’re going to need to take him down, then hand him over to the police, once Adrienne’s safe.’
‘I could take him.’ He stepped back from me. ‘I’ve been trained, remember.’
‘So have I, but that doesn’t make me bullet-proof.’
‘Touché,’ he conceded. ‘Let’s buy a replica gun. They’re on sale in all the tourist shops in Seville, so I guess we’ll find one somewhere.’
‘Let’s go to mine,’ I decreed, ‘before we get round to that.’
I picked up my bag and headed for the door. We went into the big house to say farewell to Shirley. She wished us luck with the water repair, and tossed me one of her remotes, to open and close the gate, so that we could get out and in later, whether she was there or not.
A few minutes later we were back on the move. Rather than go through L’Escala, we took the ring road, built to take some of the traffic away from the busiest spots. The Brits have been calling it the M25 for so long that now some Spanish people have adopted the name, without having a clue why. Even that was busy, but most of the traffic was headed in the other direction, towards the beach. Soon we were past the football ground and bound for St Martí.
There’s a roundabout with a junction that accesses the ‘M25’, a couple of supermarkets, and the road to Figueras and beyond. As we approached it I saw that the Mossos d’Esquadra had set up a roadblock, as they sometimes do, to give the appearance of being ever-vigilant. I swore softly, for they can be a pain at times, until I recognised Sub-inspector Alex Guinart. He recognised the Jeep at the same time, and flagged me down. ‘Hey, Primavera,’ he greeted me. ‘You never told me you were home.’
‘I was going to, though. We got back last night, went to Shirley’s and stayed there.’ I leaned back, so that he could see inside the car. ‘This is my cousin, Frank McGowan. It’s his mother who’s missing.’
Alex frowned. ‘My regrets, sir,’ he said, in English, then switched back into Catalan. ‘I’m sorry, Prim. There have been no more sightings. We’re no nearer finding her.’ I thought about telling him that we’d just missed her at Masia Josanto, but decided against it, since I know that Alex doesn’t approve of free enterprise. If he’d had an inkling we were tracking her ourselves, he’d probably have detained us, although he’d have insisted it was for our own safety. ‘You go home?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘House is fine: I checked it this morning. I couldn’t go inside, because Tom took the keys with him when his escort picked him up, but it looks fine from the outside.’
‘Good. Thanks, Alex. How’s Marte?’
His sudden smile was distinctly uncopperlike. ‘A little lovelier than she was yesterday. You know, when she grows up I have plans to marry her to your Tom.’
‘He may be a bit too old for her,’ I pointed out.
‘Seven years? What’s seven years?’
I laughed, although he had a point. ‘Let’s allow them their childhood first,’ I said. One of the drivers in a growing queue behind us risked a brief toot on his horn. Alex’s smile vanished, and I decided to leave the guy to his fate. ‘See you,’ I called out as I drove off.
It was only just gone eleven, but there were cars parked along much of the road to St Martí, taking a chance, as they’ve started clamping. We took a curve and Frank had his first view of the village, of its ancient wall and the dominating church within. ‘Is that where you live?’ he asked.
‘Yup.’
He whistled. ‘How would you feel about me moving in for a while?’ he asked.
I wasn’t sure he was kidding. ‘How I felt wouldn’t decide the issue,’ I told him. ‘Even if we do get free and clear of all danger, and if we rescue your mum, I’d have to put the matter to the vote.’
‘You have a democratic household?’
‘Not exactly. Even if Charlie and I voted in favour, Tom would still have a veto.’
‘So that’s why you don’t have a man.’
I looked at him sharply. ‘No, it’s bloody not. You know, Frank, underneath it all, you’re a typical bloke. You can’t get your head round the idea of a woman choosing to be a single mother, and liking it that way.’
He held his hands up in surrender. ‘Pax.’ he exclaimed. ‘Bad joke; I take it back. Young Tom must be some guy.’
‘He is.’
‘What does he look like?’
‘A lot like his dad and a bit like his mum. Tall for his age: give him another seven years and he’ll be bigger than you and me. He’s bright, he’s inquisitive in a good way, by which I mean he’s eager to learn. His Spanish and Catalan are better than mine, because he picked up all the playground stuff from his mates, and his French is on a par. Last summer, he met some German kids whose folks rented here for a month. By the time they left he was starting to speak to them in their own language.’
‘Does he speak English?’
‘Don’t be bloody silly! Of course he does, and I’m making damn sure that he’s literate in it as well.’
‘You hire a tutor?’
‘I am his tutor, you idiot.’
I slowed down as I reached the roundabout in front of the village. I saw another police presence there, Guardia Civil this time, but they recognised me and waved me through. The car park on the right was almost full, and the other would be heading that way, even though it was bigger; as usual, there would be thousands of people on the beach.
All of a sudden I felt in danger once again, as I realised that it was a hell of a lot easier for Sebastian to hide from us in those crowds than it was for us to hide from him in my tank, for all its tinted windows. And I realised something else. My bravura gesture in sending Adrienne’s captor that photograph of Antonio, in the same chair from which she had given her message, hadn’t been clever at all. It had told Willie that we were in the area; now it was more likely than not that his pal was staking out my home, waiting for us to come to him.
‘Look out for him,’ I told Frank, as I eased my way through the people emerging from the parks, laden down with parasols, plastic seats and cool boxes, taking special care near the many who were pushing push chairs or shepherding youngsters. I took a turn to the right, into a road that few cars use, then forked off up the track that leads to my garage.
As I approached, I slowed to a crawl, scanning the surrounding trees for watchers, for if Sebastian had really done his homework, that was where he would be waiting. But I saw no one. I found my remote in the storage bin where I had left it, pressed it, then counted to ten to give the garage time to open. I gunned the motor, shot forward and swung the Jeep in a blind turn. Frank was almost standing upright in shock, until he saw the opening, relaxing as I swept through it. We both sighed with relief as I hit the closer button and as the darkness descended.
My headlamps came on automatically as I opened the driver’s door, allowing me to switch on the garage lights. I stepped across to the keypad, to deactivate the alarm, until I realised there was no sound. The warning tone that gave me thirty seconds to enter the code was conspicuous by its absence; the system had not been activated. ‘That’s funny,’ I said aloud.
‘What?’ asked Frank.
‘The alarm’s not set.’
‘Should it have been?’
‘Standing operating procedure.’
‘Who was the last person in the house?’
‘It must have been Tom, or Conrad Kent, but no, Conrad doesn’t know the code.’
‘There you are
.’
‘But Tom does. He knows to set it, always.’
‘Would they have left through the garage?’
‘They didn’t have to. The system has twin control pads. This one, and one at the front door.’
‘In that case, I’m afraid, the likeliest explanation is that young Tom has slipped up.’ I wasn’t certain, but I suspected there was a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
I beat back my indignation, and focused on what should have been our primary concern. ‘The real question is,’ I said, ‘is there someone here now?’
I’m not a DIY woman, but I do keep a big wrench in the garage, for emergencies. I picked it up and went to the fire-and smokeproof door that opens on to the stairway to the house. I was about to lead the way up, when Frank stopped me. ‘Let me,’ he murmured. He took the makeshift bludgeon from me. ‘Shut that door after me, bolt it, open the garage, and unless you hear three knocks on the other side, or if I’m not back in five minutes, get the fuck out of here.’ I didn’t have time to argue. He thrust his rucksack into my arms and headed for the stair, pulling the door closed after him.
There was nothing for it but to do as he had said. I secured the exit with the two big bolts I had installed, top and bottom. When it came to opening the garage, I had second thoughts. That would make me vulnerable from behind, and if the need did arise, I could get the Jeep out of there whether it was closed or not.
There’s a big white Timex on my garage wall. My dad gave us a hand-made cuckoo clock as a housewarming present: it went into the kitchen and the one it replaced went downstairs. I watched it, counting off the minutes, listening all the time, in vain, for sounds from above. No noise was good noise, I decided, until four minutes had gone by, and I found myself watching the second hand as it swept round in a final countdown.
Inhuman Remains Page 17
