Guernsey Retreat

by Allen, Anne

  ‘I guess I’d better be heading back, Malcolm. I planned to get in a swim before my massage. Thanks for a lovely lunch.’

  ‘You’re welcome, my dear. I enjoy your company, you remind me of your mother. Both of you lovely to look at and listen to.’ He squeezed her hand, looking wistful.

  Louisa swallowed a lump in her throat. ‘Thanks.’

  She drove back to Torteval pondering on her father’s words. She had never really considered how much she took after Susan; like most women she wanted to be her own person and not a carbon copy of her mother. Much as she loved and admired her. Thinking about it, they were both quite independent, although her mother had been much more so. More of a risk-taker than Louisa would ever be. She couldn’t help wondering if the lack of a father had impacted on her self-confidence. Susan, on the other hand, had been the apple of her father’s eye and a bit spoiled by him. Louisa had completed a course in psychology at university and it had taught her about the intricacies of family dynamics, and the effect of fractured or incomplete families on the children. As a child without a father, she had lost out on the opportunity to test out her female wiles on her father, as daughters so often do. She had witnessed it amongst her school friends on sleepovers, slightly shocked by the kind of flirtation that took place between daughter and father. She bit her lip as she now recalled how girls often looked for father-replacements when choosing boyfriends, wondering if she had been guilty of that. Mentally reviewing her relationships, she had to concede that she’d probably been too willing to let the man control her, letting them be always right. An uncomfortable thought. Right, girl, from now on, you’ll make better choices and stick up for yourself. Be more like Mum!

  The swim helped to clear her head and she felt more at ease as she headed up to her room, meeting Charlotte on the stairs.

  ‘Hi! Haven’t seen you all day. How did the hypnosis go?’ Charlotte asked, giving her a quick hug.

  ‘Well, thanks. I’ll tell you later as I’m due for a massage in a minute. Shall I see you at dinner?’

  ‘Sure. I’m off for a very long walk as that cream tea still haunts me.’ She patted her stomach in disgust.

  Louisa grinned and dashed up to her room to change into her joggers and T-shirt, ready for the massage.

  An hour later she floated out of Lin’s therapy room, trailing the heady mix of rose geranium and frankincense, feeling on top of the world. Rounding a corner, she bumped into Paul. He grinned. ‘No guesses needed as to where you’ve just been! Enjoy it?’

  ‘Mm, it was delicious, thanks. The smell of the oils alone sends me off even before Lin lays a finger on me. I feel as if I could sleep for a week!’

  ‘Then why not lie down for a while? Although a week’s probably pushing it! An hour or two should be enough to give those oils time to work. A massage always zonks me out, too, so I have to be careful when I have them. That’s assuming I can fit one in amongst my work sessions,’ he said, his eyes crinkling up as he smiled.

  ‘Glad to hear I’m not the only one who succumbs to drowsiness. I always thought that a massage energised you not wiped you out.’

  ‘Ah! Depends on the massage. Lin’s aromatherapy is renowned for its relaxing effect, but you’ll have the extra energy tomorrow. Promise.’

  ‘Good. Well, I’ll toddle up to my room and chill out for a bit. If I’m not down for dinner will someone give me a shout? Don’t want to miss one of Chef’s masterpieces, do I?’ she said, pushing her hand through her hair.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m on the case. See you later.’ He shot her a smile as he walked away and Louisa’s legs felt even more wobbly than before. Definitely time for a lie-down!

  She didn’t miss dinner, thanks mainly to a phone call from Malcolm about an hour later. John Ferguson had phoned to say that the island policeman experienced in e-fits could see Louisa at the station the next morning. John had told his old boss that the suspect could lead them to the killer of Malcolm’s father, so he’d approved his request. It was only a slight fudge of the truth, John had assured Malcolm. Louisa was happy to agree, and Malcolm said John would pick her up.

  The phone call brought her wide awake but it was a little early for dinner, so she called her aunt to bring her up to date. She usually phoned every few days, knowing Margaret worried about her. As Louisa thought, her aunt was pleased about the outcome of the hypnosis.

  ‘If this man is tracked down, then I presume you’ll come home to identify him?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ve been warned it could take a while so don’t expect me back just yet. And, to be honest, I’m quite enjoying being pampered. And I’ve made a friend…’ Louisa told her about Charlotte and how they had spent Sunday together. Omitting its drunken end.

  ‘That’s nice, Louisa. You needed to come out of yourself a bit and have some fun. And are you seeing much of your father?’

  They continued to chat for a few minutes, leaving it that Louisa would call again in a few days. As she put down the phone, it struck her that Margaret had sounded a little brighter than she had on their last call. Perhaps she, too, was slowly coming to terms with her loss. She hoped so. As she got off the bed, she stroked the Buddha. Perhaps I’ll be as calm as you one day soon. With that thought in her head, she slapped on some make-up and brushed her hair in preparation for supper. Her stomach rumbling, she ran downstairs. In her book, any meal she hadn’t had to cook would make it enjoyable, but one cooked by La Folie’s talented chef would be extra pleasurable.

  Neither Charlotte nor Louisa were up for another drinking session and both declared themselves ready for an early night by ten. Louisa took a while to settle, anxiety about the upcoming e-fit session pushing away the desire for sleep. She was afraid she wouldn’t recognise the picture as that of the man she saw. Or rather, didn’t see. Had her mind played tricks on her? Made up the description of That Man? Molly had tried to assure her it was unlikely but…At last she let go, not waking until seven thirty, in good time for breakfast and yoga.

  As she rolled up her yoga mat, Paul asked how she was getting on and if she wanted to try more therapies.

  ‘I’m enjoying everything so far, thanks. Perhaps in a few days…I really want to spend time outside too. Go for long walks.’ She kept her eyes down, ostensibly fastening the ties on the mat, but really to avoid catching Paul’s eyes. They had such a strange effect on her and she wasn’t sure how to handle the feeling, like being swallowed up in his gaze. She was finding him too damned attractive and it wouldn’t work. Her father was his boss and she was a guest at the retreat. And anyway, her head and heart were all over the place. Too soon…

  ‘Okay. Let me know if there’s anything you need; I want you to enjoy your stay here.’

  She nodded, muttered a quick goodbye and followed a grinning Charlotte out of the room.

  ‘You fancy him, don’t you?’ Charlotte said as soon as they were on their own.

  ‘I…I. No, of course not! He’s good looking, I grant you but…’

  ‘But nothing! I can see it in your face.’ Charlotte must have noticed the warmth in her cheeks as she added quickly, ‘Hey, don’t worry. Only a woman would know. Men can’t see further than the end of their noses. But what’s wrong with you finding him hot? Neither of you are spoken for.’

  Louisa stared at her friend. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Oh, it’s no secret he’s single.’ She waved her hand airily. ‘Most of the girls who work here are a bit in love with Paul.’ She smiled at Louisa. ‘And perhaps one or two of the guests…’

  ‘Hmm, I like him but I’m not in love with him. I hardly know him!’ She protested. Inside she wasn’t so sure. She certainly felt something for Paul…

  John Ferguson collected Louisa and drove to the police station in St Peter Port. As he was parking the car, she felt pangs of anxiety bite at her stomach and, not for the first time, wished she was made of sterner stuff. Like her mother. She chewed on her thumb, a habit from childhood.

 
‘You okay, Louisa? There’s nothing to worry about. Sergeant Davis will be doing all the work, you only need to describe what you remember.’ John’s calm voice broke into her thoughts as they climbed out of the car.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks. A slight attack of nerves, that’s all.’

  John smiled encouragingly and, placing his hand under her elbow, guided her to the reception desk. The duty sergeant grinned at them.

  ‘You can’t keep away, John, can you? Retirement proving not as it’s cracked up to be?’

  John laughed. ‘Retirement’s great, Pete. Just tying up loose ends on that last case of mine. Sergeant Davis is expecting us.’

  ‘He is, is he? Righto, I’ll let him know you’re here.’ Pete made a quick call and buzzed them through to the inner offices. A young man was hovering in a doorway and, after nodding at John, beckoned them through to a small room dominated by a desk burdened with files and a large computer screen. John made the introductions and the sergeant asked Louisa to make herself comfortable in one of the two chairs facing the screen. He took the other one while John perched on a stool nearby. The sergeant explained how he would select images of parts of a face based on Louisa’s description, eventually building up to a whole picture, like a jigsaw. The computer software would then harmonise the result, producing a lifelike image.

  It was a slow process. Sections of the face were built up until Louisa was satisfied that the resulting image was accurate. Or at least as accurate as her memory allowed. It resembled a photograph and she was startled by its uncanny likeness to the man she’d recalled under hypnosis. He looked like a weasel, she thought, shuddering. A sharp nose and thin mouth sat under small eyes on a thin, stubbled face. Greying, lank hair hung down below the jawline.

  John leaned in and patted her shoulder. ‘Well done. Is there anything you’d like to change?’

  She shook her head. That Man’s face was now engraved on her mind. The sergeant printed off several copies of the picture and they left the station. John was in buoyant mood.

  ‘This is going to be a big help, Louisa. And the fact that this guy probably works on the Underground. I’ll check in with Malcolm before setting off to London tomorrow for some digging around.’ His eyes gleamed and she sensed the excitement emanating from him.

  ‘You miss being a detective, don’t you?’

  He cleared his throat. ‘I do like solving mysteries, I admit. Like to keep the “little grey cells” working, to quote that famous detective, Hercule Poirot. To be honest, Pete was right, and retirement doesn’t suit me. And I’m glad of a chance to do some proper detecting after the petty stuff I’ve been doing of late.’ He opened the car door, adding, ‘And I promise you, Louisa, I’ll not stop until we’ve got this guy banged up. And I never break a promise.’

  Louisa joined Charlotte for lunch, telling her about the outcome of the e-fit session. Charlotte was suitably impressed.

  ‘Great news! So your detective’s going on the manhunt? Let’s hope that it won’t be long before the case is closed and you can get on with your life. Any plans for the future?’ she asked, tilting her head on one side.

  Louisa frowned. ‘Nooo. I haven’t given it much thought. Suppose I’d better look for a job in London as at least I have a home there. But I’m not sure it’s what I really want…’ She sighed.

  ‘Hey, there’s no need to make a decision yet. All in good time. Is the, er, island seducing you?’ Charlotte asked, straight-faced.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking!’ Louisa laughed. ‘It’s not like that. But I admit Guernsey is proving quite seductive. I love the slower pace of life and the gorgeous scenery and the sea.’

  ‘Mm, I’m with you there. But my work is based in London and I do love the social scene in the city. But I’m planning to take more holidays once I’ve learnt to delegate. Then I can pop over here and chill out,’ she said, putting down her knife and fork. ‘Speaking of which, are you free to join me in a walk this afternoon? I haven’t any treatments until five.’

  ‘Yes, I am. Any particular place in mind?

  ‘Nadine mentioned that the bluebell woods are now in bloom and worth a visit. Fancy going there? Just south of St Peter Port so we need to take the car.’

  After parking in a lane off Fort Road they made their way towards the cliff path and the woods. A dazzling carpet of sapphire lay spread before them, covering every inch of the ground around the trees, while dappled spring sunshine filtered through the leaves.

  ‘This is heavenly! Haven’t seen a bluebell wood since I was a child,’ exclaimed Charlotte, eyes wide as she stopped and stared.

  ‘It’s gorgeous. And, like you, it’s years since I saw such a display. Oh, I’d like to be a kid again and run barefoot through the flowers,’ said Louisa, laughing as she whirled around on the path.

  Charlotte began to recite:

  ‘The Bluebell is the sweetest flower

  That waves in summer air;

  Its blossoms have the mightiest power

  To soothe my spirit’s care.’

  ‘How lovely! I haven’t heard that before,’ Louisa said, entranced.

  ‘My mother used to quote it when I was a child and exploring the bluebell woods. It’s called The Bluebell by Emily Brontë. Happy times,’ she said, gazing across at the slightly waving flowers, giving off their distinctive perfume. ‘And she also told me legend has it that their perfume is so intoxicating that anyone walking into a field of them would fall asleep. Something passed down from ancient Greek mythology, apparently.’ She grinned at Louisa, ‘Feeling sleepy?’

  ‘Not yet! But perhaps we’d better keep walking just in case.’

  They strolled down the paths, stopping occasionally to admire the views as they reached the cliff path. A couple of hours later they decided it was time to return to La Folie and much needed refreshment.

  Laughing at a shared joke, they were just entering the hall when Paul dashed up, his face creased with worry.

  ‘Louisa, thank goodness! I’ve been trying your mobile, but it kept going to voice mail.’

  She checked her bag. ‘Oh, I must have left it in my room. Why, what’s the matter?’

  Paul took her elbow, moving her away from Charlotte, who took the hint and headed towards the dining room. ‘It’s Malcolm. He had a fall and hit his head soon after arriving for a massage. I called his doctor and an ambulance and they should both be here any minute.’

  She felt the blood drain from her face and she grabbed Paul’s arm. ‘Can I see him, please?’

  ‘Of course, come on.’

  She held on as he guided her down the hall. Please God, let him be all right. I can’t lose my father now; I’ve only just found him!

  chapter 16

  Louisa’s legs trembled as she saw her father. He was lying on the floor near the massage couch, deathly pale and with his eyes closed. For a terrible moment she thought he was dead, but then his eyelids fluttered open, and she let out a sigh of relief. His eyes were unfocused and didn’t seem to see her; then they closed again.

  Paul whispered, ‘I think he’s had a TIA, causing him to fall and hit his head on the edge of the couch. He knocked himself out for a few moments and there’s a nasty dent in his skull, near his left eye. Probably concussed. We'll know more when the doctor arrives.’

  She nodded, too numb to speak. She knew how serious it was. A TIA was commonly known as a mini stroke and it sounded as if Malcolm also had a fractured skull. Falling to her knees, she picked up Malcolm’s right hand; it was heavy and floppy. Giving it a squeeze, she leant over his prone body to kiss his cheek. A livid mark surrounded the dent; fingering it gently she was relieved to find the skin unbroken, minimising the risk of infection. But she knew that Malcolm needed an operation. And soon. Looking up she saw her own fear reflected in Paul’s anxious face.

  ‘The hospital knows my father will need surgery?’ she said, forcing out the words.

  ‘Yes, I explained about the fracture.
Louisa, I’m sure he’ll be–’

  ‘Paul, the ambulance’s here,’ Lin said, opening the door.

  Following on her heels were two paramedics wheeling a stretcher, accompanied by a tall, slim man carrying medical equipment.

  ‘Hello, Ben. This is Louisa, Malcolm’s daughter,’ Paul said, moving aside for the medical team.

  Ben shook her hand, looking serious. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know Malcolm had a daughter. Ben Tostevin, his doctor. I’d better have a quick look.’

  ‘Of course.’ She found herself guided by Paul to a chair in the corner while Ben knelt by his patient, checking the vital signs and the head injury.

  ‘Right, it looks as you said, Paul. We’ll get him off to the Princess Elizabeth and I’ll confirm with the surgeon that we want to go straight into theatre.’ He nodded to the paramedics who slipped on a neck brace before carefully manoeuvring Malcolm onto the stretcher and lifting it onto the trolley. Ben made his call before turning back to Louisa. She was living a nightmare. The sight of a deathly pale, unconscious Malcolm being stretchered out mirrored the image of her mother being carried out of the house. Suddenly she felt overwhelmed and loud sobs bubbled up from deep within. Held-back tears coursed down her cheeks as she struggled to breathe. Oblivious of everything other than the pain of her loss and the fear of losing again, it was a while before she realised arms were wrapped around her, offering comfort.

  ‘It’s okay, Louisa, let it out. It needs to happen,’ A distant man’s voice, as if from the end of a tunnel.