The Golden Anklet

by Beverly Hansford

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jane replied miserably.

  ‘We’ll get them off you as soon as we’re on dry land,’ he announced confidently.

  Jane struggled to a standing position. She fought for something to hold on to. Her head was swimming.

  He grabbed her arm. ‘Let me give you a hand.’ He glanced down at her bare feet. ‘Where are your shoes?’

  ‘I haven’t got any,’ Jane replied wretchedly.

  She found the officer’s strong arm supporting her as he helped her up the steps, through another cabin and into the wheelhouse of the vessel with its shiny dials and levers.

  He put a bright yellow rain-jacket round her shoulders. ‘It’s raining outside,’ he explained.

  Outside on deck Jane found the comment to be accurate. Fine rain was wetting everything. It was still dark, but she could see that the boat was moored alongside a wooden jetty. It was only a short distance to dry land, where she could see people moving about and blue lights flashing.

  The surface of the gangplank was slippery from the rain and Jane would have tumbled had not the officer’s strong arm saved her. When they reached the jetty, a young woman police officer in a reflective jacket emerged from the shadows. She looked at Jane for an instant and then introduced herself.

  ‘I’m WPC Henry, Jane. I’ll be looking after you for a while. You’re quite safe now,’ she announced pleasantly. She glanced at the handcuffs. ‘First thing we’ll do is get those off you.’ She produced a key and released Jane’s hands.

  Jane managed to whisper, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Will you come with me please, Jane?’ The officer took her arm and gently led her along the jetty. The wooden planking was wet and cold under Jane’s feet, and her right foot now hurt considerably when she put weight on it. She shivered, even with the jacket round her shoulders.

  When they reached the end of the jetty the officer walked her towards a waiting police car. She opened one of the rear passenger doors and waited for her to get in.

  Jane stood there shivering noticeably.

  ‘Are you all right?’ the officer asked, looking at her with concern.

  Jane heard the question, but the voice asking it seemed a long way off. She was unable to answer. Suddenly she keeled over and crashed to the ground.

  She lay there unconscious on the wet ground, a tiny figure spattered by rain, the police officer bending over her and talking into her radio.

  Chapter 46

  It was the telephone ringing that woke Bob. He struggled to emerge from a disturbed sleep. He had dozed off in a chair. Stirring into action, he made a dash for the hall, glancing at his watch as he went. Its hands showed half past ten. Somebody must want him urgently to call so late in the evening. He grabbed the handset and held it to his ear.

  ‘Hello. Bob Harker.’

  ‘Devon and Cornwall Police here, sir. Would it be possible to see you urgently?’

  Bob was suddenly alert with expectation, his thoughts turning to Jane. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘Nothing significant, sir, but we have some additional items of evidence we would like you to look at and perhaps identify.’

  ‘What sort of items?’

  ‘They are items of a female nature, sir, but we do need you to identify them.’

  ‘You mean they could be Jane’s?’

  ‘We are not sure at this stage, sir. That’s why we need your help.’

  Bob put his brain into gear. It was clear that whatever the police had found, they weren’t going to give any further information over the telephone. He would just have to go down to Cornwall again. But how? He struggled to think. Train would be best, and quicker than driving.

  He spoke into the telephone again. ‘I could get there tomorrow, probably by early afternoon. I’d have to use the train.’

  ‘That would be excellent, sir. Detective Sergeant Brogan is dealing with this case. Just ask for him when you arrive. You’ll be able to get a taxi from Truro station.’

  Bob scribbled the officer’s directions down, said goodbye and put the telephone down. He tried to think things out. The best plan would be to take the first possible train to London and sort things out from there.

  It had been a difficult time for Bob. When he had left the police station after his mysterious ordeal, it had been quite clear to him that as far as the police were concerned Jane’s disappearance and his own predicament had been the outcome of a midnight escapade and a tragic accident.

  For him the situation was more disturbing. He kept asking himself what had happened after he had fallen asleep in the car. It seemed ridiculous to suggest that he and Jane had gone for a swim. Yet where was she? He clung to the thought that she was alive somewhere, yet as the days passed he became more and more despondent. There were times when he thought that perhaps he and Jane had indulged in a midnight swim, and then logic blotted out that possibility, but it all seemed too unreal to think about. Instead he just had to hope that somehow an explanation would materialise.

  After Miles Ashington had collected him from the police station, the ordeal of dealing with the situation had begun. Miles and Gail had been extremely supportive. They had both wanted him to come and stay with them in their home for a few days, but he had declined their offer. He wanted to be at Barn Cottage. It was just a tiny bit nearer Jane. Once he was back there, Maggie had fussed over him and cooked him a meal that he had no appetite for. The most upsetting thing for him had been going into the bedroom and seeing Jane’s things lying where she had left them. Instead of sleeping in the bed they had shared, he had spent a restless night in a chair, drinking cups of tea and racking his brain for an explanation.

  The next day he had packed up his things and returned home. The police did not appear to want him any more and announced that they would contact him if there were any developments. When it came to sorting out Jane’s possessions, he had accepted Maggie’s offer to do so for him.

  He had refused Miles Ashington’s offer of a car to take him home and instead had taken a taxi to Truro and then the train back to London.

  Back in Tatting Green he had been faced with the daunting task of telling everybody what had happened. He had been surprised to learn that news of Jane’s disappearance had reached the national papers. The press had caught onto the story of a guest of Miles Ashington being lost while swimming, and had even named Jane. When Bob phoned Gerald and Anna he discovered that they already knew. They were shocked and distressed and it had been a difficult conversation. It occurred to him that he should get in touch with Discerning Woman magazine. He managed to speak to Annette, and he learned that Miles Ashington had already told her the news. It was quite clear from speaking with Annette that all the staff at the magazine were in a state of shock. It was the same when he spoke to his parents. His mother had wanted him to come and spend some time with them, but he had refused. He and Jeff were still in the process of setting up their new business venture, and Jeff needed his help. Work had been his salvation. He had thrown himself into it, spending long days in the studio rather than being at home. He lost track of the days. His time consisted of work by day and disturbed sleep at night.

  Bob’s reminiscing was brought to a halt when he came to the question of work. He would have to call Jeff and tell him he wouldn’t be at the studio the next day.

  *

  As the train jerked into movement, Bob settled back in his seat. He sipped the coffee he had purchased at the station and nibbled the pasty he had bought to accompany it. He had been up at the crack of dawn and taken the first available train to London. Once there, he had dashed over to Paddington and arrived there to discover that the next train for Penzance was due to leave in fifteen minutes and he still had to buy a ticket. In spite of the queue at the desk, he had managed to buy both a ticket and a cup of coffee before being one of the last passengers to board the train.

  Leaving the train at Truro he quickly found a taxi. At the police station he was ushered into a small interview ro
om and brought a cup of tea. He did not have to wait long before a man carrying a briefcase entered the room.

  The man held out his hand. ‘Detective Sergeant Brogan.’

  Bob shook hands with him and confirmed his name.

  ‘Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr Harker.’

  They faced each other across the table. Sergeant Brogan opened his briefcase and extracted some papers and a small polythene bag. He turned his attention to Bob. ‘We’ve asked you to come along today to see if you can identify these items,’ he explained. He placed the bag on the table in front of Bob.

  Bob picked it up and saw the fine gold chain it contained. He suddenly found his heart beating fast. He turned it over. Yes. There was the tiny tag attached, and on it he could read one word: ‘Jane’.

  He looked up at the officer. ‘It’s the anklet my fiancée was wearing the night she disappeared.’

  ‘You’re quite sure of that?’

  ‘Positive.’ Bob’s mind was full of questions, but the officer dipped into his briefcase again and pulled out another polythene bag. This time it was larger and contained one item: a woman’s shoe.

  ‘Recognise this?’

  Bob looked at the shoe. It was old and had seen better days. There was even a hole in the sole. It certainly wasn’t one of Jane’s.

  He shook his head. ‘It’s not Jane’s,’ he replied simply.

  Sergeant Brogan nodded. He pulled a photograph out of his bag. ‘It appears that Miss Carroll was not wearing shoes at the time,’ he remarked, handing Bob the photograph.

  Bob studied it. It showed the print of a naked foot in what looked like mud. He looked at the officer for an explanation.

  It was not long in coming. ‘The photograph was taken by our team in the same area that the gold chain and the shoe were found. Experts believe that the owner of the foot was female and took a size five shoe.’

  ‘Jane takes a size five shoe!’ exclaimed Bob.

  The officer nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, we know. We have a pair of Miss Carroll’s shoes here from the items found in her car at Dolby Cove.’

  Bob could no longer contain his excitement. ‘Where were these things found?’ he asked anxiously.

  Sergeant Brogan regarded him closely as he replied. ‘They were found by a farmer in a barn. He had read about a missing woman called Jane Carroll. He thought they might be important and he took the items to his local police station.’

  Bob was already assimilating the information he had just been given. It was exciting. He turned to the police officer. ‘But that must mean that Jane could still be alive somewhere.’

  Sergeant Brogan remained calm. ‘It’s a possibility we are looking into,’ he advised.

  ‘But how could it be anything else?’ Bob persisted. He added. ‘If the items were found away from the beach where the car was found, it must mean that Jane was still alive when she left Dolby Cove.’

  The police officer smiled at Bob for the first time. His reply was guarded.

  ‘You may be correct. What we have to do is try and establish where Miss Carroll is now. We are following up several possible leads. ‘

  ‘Can you tell me more?’ asked Bob.

  Sergeant Brogan shook his head. ‘Not for the moment. The investigation has reached a critical stage. We needed to ask you to come here today to see if you could identify these items, so that we can proceed with further enquiries. You have been of great help to us.’

  ‘I see,’ replied Bob. He could tell that Sergeant Brogan knew more but was not going to divulge any more details. He had many questions, but before he could raise any of them, the police officer spoke again.

  ‘Mr Harker, I know this is a difficult time for you and that you would like to ask more questions, but I must ask you to be patient with us. You will be contacted immediately anything of importance happens. In the meantime we would appreciate it if you would keep today’s interview to yourself for the time being.’

  So that was it as far as the police were concerned. Bob could see that he wasn’t going to get any more information. Sergeant Brogan took his leave and arranged for someone to escort Bob back to the reception area. Clearly that was the end of the interview.

  On the train back to London, Bob went over and over the interview in his mind. On the one hand, he was elated. There was now substantial evidence that Jane could still be alive. His own suspicions were confirmed. On the other hand, he still felt deep concern at not knowing where she was. Clearly she was unable to make contact with him or anybody else. But why? It almost looked like a kidnap or something similar. How had she come to lose the anklet, and why was she wandering around barefoot? The interview had raised more questions than it solved. It had also been abundantly clear to Bob that the police knew more than they were prepared to divulge. It seemed they had now dropped the drowning theory. He had noticed the change in attitude to him throughout his visit. Asking him to keep quiet about today’s meeting also underscored his suspicion that the police knew more than they were giving away. He realised that he had no alternative other than to be patient and wait for developments, whenever they might occur.

  *

  It was several days before Bob heard anything. One morning at about half past six, having spent another restless night, he was in the shower when he heard the shrilling of the telephone. Without stopping to grab a towel, he dashed dripping wet into the bedroom. A call at this time in the morning must be important. He grabbed the phone.

  ‘Hello. Bob Harker.’

  ‘Mr Harker, it’s Hampshire Constabulary here. Miss Carroll has been found.’

  The news hit Bob like a battering ram. He sank down onto the bed. He had waited days for this information and now here it was. He struggled to get his brain into gear and pose the question he was almost afraid to ask.

  ‘Is… Is she alive?’

  ‘Yes, sir. But she’s in hospital in Portsmouth at the moment.’

  ‘What happened to her?’ Bob asked anxiously. ‘Why is she in Portsmouth?’

  ‘I don’t have the full details, sir, but my understanding is that her condition is improving.’

  It was a deliberately vague answer. He had to know what had happened to Jane. Phoning the hospital would be his best bet.

  ‘Can you give me the name and phone number of the hospital?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, sir. Do you have a pen?’

  Bob managed to find a pencil and a scrap of paper. He scribbled down the details the police officer gave him. Thanking him, he put the phone down.

  He paused for a few seconds to let the news he had just received sink in. He knew he should be elated, and in a way he was, but hearing that Jane was in hospital was worrying. What was wrong with her?

  He just had to call the hospital. Grabbing a towel from the airing cupboard, he returned to the bedroom and dialled the number. It took a few minutes to get through to somebody in authority. A controlled female voice asked him who he was and what relation he was to the patient. He gave his name and explained that he was Jane’s fiancé and that he had been contacted by the police. The same controlled voice advised him that they had an inpatient named Jane Carroll and that she had spent a comfortable night. He asked if Jane could receive visitors and was told that only selected people could see her and that they would have to check with reception first.

  More mystified still, and even more worried, he thanked the person at the other end and replaced the telephone. He snapped into action. He had to get to the hospital at once.

  *

  The church clock at the end of the street was just striking eight as Bob stood outside the office of the only car-rental firm in Tatting Cross. It was closed and he waited impatiently, hoping that it would open soon. He had taken the first bus over from his home, having decided to hire a car rather than trusting his old banger. Once again he scolded himself for not buying a newer and more reliable model.

  It was a good five or six minutes before the first of the staff turned up and he was allowed into the bui
lding. Half an hour later he was on his way. He realised that he had no idea where the hospital was, not knowing Portsmouth very well, so he quickly phoned for directions. Then he had to get hold of Jeff and explain that he would not be available for work. He had volunteered to handle the work in the studio while Jeff started converting the rooms above into an office. Now those plans had been blown apart. Jeff was quite understanding and wanted to know more, but Bob was unable to enlighten him further.

  It was late morning when Bob arrived at the hospital. He had difficulty at first in finding a parking space, but he eventually succeeded when another car moved out. He made his way to the reception desk and explained his mission, and a rather sombre-looking woman asked him if he had any identification. He produced his driving licence and was asked to take a nearby seat and wait. After about five minutes another woman appeared and asked him to accompany her. She led him into a lift and then through a series of corridors. Bob was surprised to see her halt in front of a door guarded by a police officer sitting on a chair. The officer was immediately alert and asked for Bob’s identification. Once again Bob again handed over his driving licence. He was puzzled by the security he was encountering. The police officer thanked him with a hint of a smile and gave him back the licence.

  Bob was ushered into a small room. A figure lay on the bed. It was Jane. She was resting with her eyes closed, but she became alert to the sound of people entering.

  Bob rushed over to her. ‘Jane, it’s Bob. What’s happened? Can you talk?’

  For the first time for days, Jane’s face broke into a smile. ‘Oh, Bob, darling! It’s fantastic to see you.’ She held out her arms.

  Bob was alarmed at the sight of his fiancée, her face a mass of bruises and her hands covered in scratches. He kissed her gently. ‘How are you?’ he asked. ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘Darling, I’ve so much to tell you, and now you’re here I feel a thousand times better.’

  ‘But how are you?’ insisted Bob.

  She managed a grin. ‘I’m battered and bruised, but I’m still in one piece. They brought me here because I was going down with pneumonia. But once the antibiotic clicked in, it helped a lot.’