The insistent ring of the phone finally grabbed her attention.
‘Is it him?’ Malcolm barked.
‘Yes, it is. Or at least as much as I can be sure given…Did John say if he has a limp?’
She heard a release of breath. ‘He does. The word is he’s had it since birth; something went wrong when he was born. John got the info from his Met colleagues who were granted access to the personnel files. He’s shared our leads with them and they’re aware there’s another outstanding crime, linked to this man’s father, my cousin.’
Louisa had been so wrapped up in the search for her mother’s killer that she had forgotten Malcolm also wanted to find the man who killed his father. She felt a pang of remorse. They were linked by a painful history.
‘What happens now?’ she asked, pulling herself together.
‘We must fly over tomorrow. The mist should clear later today and hopefully the flights will be back to normal by then. After we meet with John he can take you to see this guy in the flesh. Unseen of course!’ he added hastily as she gasped. ‘It’s the only way to be sure; you understand that, don’t you, Louisa?’ His voice sounded more gentle.
‘Yes, yes of course. I’ve always realised I’d have to see him again at some point. Are you sure you’re okay to travel and follow this through? I can always go alone–’
‘I’m fine. Never better. The doctor’s said I’m making a faster recovery than expected, so there’s nothing more to be said. I certainly wouldn’t want you to face this alone, my dear. It’s the least I can do: for you and your mother.’
She wiped away the tear threatening to slide down her cheek. Yes, this was all for Mum. And he’s right, he should be there. Just hope he’s as fit as he says he is.
‘All right. You can stay at my house, there’s plenty of room. I have my own little apartment in what were the attics, so we won’t be on top of each other and it will save time travelling.’ And I’ll be able to keep an eye on you.
‘That’s kind of you, Louisa but I don’t want to intrude…’
‘Nonsense! You’re my father. Of course you’re not intruding. And we can use the house as a place to confer with John. That way there’s no risk of being overheard,’ she said, pleased with her argument.
‘Okay. Thank you, it does make sense.’
‘There’s one thing that puzzles me. Without any forensic evidence, how are we going to prove it was Blake who wanted to steal the jewels?’
Malcolm was silent for a moment. ‘John has an idea or two, but we’ll need the support of the Met. Don’t worry, if Blake is the man, we’ll prove it.’
She had to be satisfied with his answer and Malcolm rang off to book their flights. Louisa remembered, belatedly, that she had invited her aunt to join her in London. And she had now asked Malcolm! Could be tricky, she thought, dialling Margaret’s number.
‘Hi, Margaret, it’s me. I’ve got some news…’ She went on to describe the outcome of John’s investigation so far, finishing by saying she would be in London the next day.
‘That’s wonderful, Louisa. I’m so glad things are finally moving forward,’ Margaret said, before a fit of coughing stopped her from continuing.
‘Margaret, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise…’
She heard her aunt take a sip of something before she spoke again.
‘It’s a bad cough, that’s all. Started as a cold, before going onto my chest. The doctor’s told me I have to rest and I’ll be right as rain.’ She stopped to draw breath. Louisa was worried. Her aunt lived on her own, how would she manage? Margaret’s voice cut into her thoughts.
‘You don’t have to worry about me, my neighbour pops in every day to check on me. And gets my shopping. So I’m fine. But I won’t be able to come down to London just yet. As soon as I’m better I’ll come, as we arranged.’ She stopped as a coughing fit claimed her. Louisa, though still concerned about Margaret, was relieved to avoid the problem of her coming while Malcolm was staying. After a brief chat, Margaret rang off, still coughing.
Louisa stared out of the window. The mist still swirled outside, giving the impression that nothing existed beyond the garden hedge. She felt paralysed. There was much to do but…Did she pack up everything, expecting to stay in London for good? Or would she be there only a few days? Thinking about it, it had to be for longer. Even if she wasn’t needed in London, there was Margaret. If she remained ill, Louisa would go and see her. If she recovered then Margaret would come to London to stay with her. Either way, it looked as if her time on the island had come to an end. For the present, at least. And that meant saying goodbye to Paul. A piece of lead settled heavily in her stomach as she reached out again for the phone.
‘Hi, Nadine. Could you tell me when Paul’s free for a chat, please? Okay, thanks. I’ll catch him then.’
She had an hour to kill and rousing herself, grabbed her swimsuit and towelling robe before heading down to the pool. She needed exercise.
The swim helped. By the time Louisa had showered and changed she felt clearer-headed. Coincidentally, the mist had thinned, allowing glimpses of a watery sun to be seen. Once dressed in jeans and T-shirt, she made her way to Paul’s office. The lead was still in place, but she decided to ignore it, fixing a smile on her face as she knocked on the door.
‘Come in.’
‘Louisa! This is a surprise. Please, sit down. What can I do for you?’ Paul’s eyes crinkled up as he smiled. If you only knew! She found herself dropping her own eyes, focusing on a plant on the desk.
‘I…I’m going back to London tomorrow. With Malcolm,’ she said, and then filled him in with the latest development. She risked an upward glance and saw his smile had died.
‘I see. Well, that’s good news then, isn’t it? What you hoped for. And Malc. How…long will you stay?’
‘For good, I guess.’
He looked shocked. ‘But you will come back? To see Malc?’
‘Sure. But for the moment he will stay with me in London. Does he need to be here? For the centre?’
Paul pushed a hand through his hair. ‘No, no he doesn’t. He’s given me full control as he never wanted to be tied down again.’ He seemed to make a big effort and smiled at her. ‘I’ll miss you, Louisa. I had hoped we’d have time to get to know each other better, but…’ His eyes locked onto hers.
Louisa wanted to cry. She had hoped so, as well. But it couldn’t work. She needed to be in England. Standing up, she took a deep breath before saying, ‘I’ll miss you too, Paul. I…I have to go. Things to arrange…’ She turned towards the door but Paul got there before her.
‘Hey, not so fast. You can’t go without a goodbye kiss. Okay?’ he said, encircling her with his arms and pulling her close. Not having the will to fight, she gave in and let his lips find hers. The piece of lead melted and she found herself not wanting the kiss to end. Every part of her body tingled, as if properly alive for the first time. She sagged against him, any remaining stiffness in her body dissolved. An annoying voice in her head shouted, “Stop! This can’t happen. Leave now!” As Paul’s tongue began to gently probe her mouth, Louisa knew she had to be strong and walk away. She pulled back, muttering, ‘Goodbye, Paul,’ and fled out of the door and up to her room, passing a bemused looking Nadine. It was not until she was safely back that she allowed the tears to flow. Tears for a love that was not meant to be.
The plane taxied on the tarmac, pulling into the space designated by the man with what, to Louisa, always looked like table tennis bats. Brightly coloured ones, too. Shortly after the passengers began to disembark, their flight was called and she and Malcolm headed to their gate.
The mid-morning flight to Gatwick was busy: cancelled flights on the previous day had created a backlog of passengers. The mist had cleared by lunchtime, and the rest of the day had seen brilliant sunshine. Today promised to be a mix of sun and clouds, but Louisa hardly cared. She was leaving part of her heart behind and it was not a good feeling.
‘You’re looking very serious, my dear. Something wrong?’ Malcolm’s voice seemed to come from a distance and she forced herself to smile at him.
‘Just thinking about…you know. It’s feeling very real now after weeks of waiting.’
He gripped her hand. ‘I understand. But I’ll be by your side so you’re not facing this alone.’
She nodded and before either of them could say anymore, they were at the front of the queue and handing over their boarding cards. A short walk along the glazed corridor and they were outside following the marked-out path to the plane. Once ensconced in her business class seat, Louisa stared out of the window as men bustled about, preparing for departure. Within minutes the pilot was building up speed down the runway and then they were airborne. Hoping to see La Folie, she looked down as the plane banked over the coast, but was disappointed. She continued to watch as the patchwork of fields dotted with cows the size of ants, and clusters of houses looking like pieces of Lego, peeled away out of sight. Then they were over the sea, heading north to England and whatever lay ahead.
She closed her eyes, wanting to relive the moment when Paul kissed her. She had taken ages to get off to sleep that night; part of her wanted to run up to Paul’s room and tell him what she felt. That she loved him. But another part, the cautious, led by the head part, held her back. It was too soon, and she only had Nick’s word that Paul had feelings for her. Okay, that kiss seemed to support that, but he hadn’t said anything, she told herself. Now, as the plane took her ever further away from Paul and La Folie, she fell into a doze. Images filled her head: Paul, smiling and golden in the light through the stairwell, and That Man Edward, with his grey, lanky hair, thin face and stubbled chin. One minute she was in Paul’s arms and the next in That Man’s. He was pulling her towards him, shouting at her, she could feel his spit on her face…she cried out.
‘Louisa, are you okay? You shouted something.’
She opened her eyes to see her father’s concerned face and flushed when she realised what had happened. But apart from Malcolm, no-one else seemed to have noticed.
‘Sorry, bad dream. I…I didn’t sleep well last night. Guess I’m a bit stressed.’
Malcolm squeezed her arm. ‘Understandable. I’ll ask the stewardess to bring you a drink.’ He ordered a small brandy for Louisa and a coffee for himself.
Not normally keen on alcohol in the middle of the morning, nevertheless, the brandy hit the spot, and she relaxed.
‘Better? We’ll be preparing for landing any time soon so we’ll need to drink up shortly.’
The disembarkation proceeded smoothly and, after the usual long wait for their luggage, they finally cleared the arrivals area. Amongst those waiting was a chauffeur holding a card with the name “Mr Roget”. Louisa flashed a grin at her father, who admitted that he did not like hanging about for taxis and usually hired a car and driver. Fine by her, she was quite happy to be driven home in comfort. The chauffeur explained that it would take about an hour and a half to drive to Islington so she sat back in the sumptuous seat to take a leisurely look at the passing countryside. Initially, it was slow going on the M23, but the driver picked up speed once they were clear of the airport traffic. The contrast with driving around tiny Guernsey really hit her. Louisa, like a lot of Londoners, did not drive much. Used to a good public transport system and the evils of driving in the city, there was no point. She had shared the use of a car with her mother and more often than not, it remained parked for weeks at a time.
As they neared the outskirts of London the traffic again built up. Once they had cleared Vauxhall Bridge it was virtually nose to tail for the remainder of the journey, but it did give plenty of time to take in the sights.
‘Do you spend much time in London, these days?’ she asked Malcolm, who had appeared lost in thought for most of the journey, staring out of the window.
‘Not much. I think in some ways it hasn’t changed a great deal since I lived here, which I like. But I’m not so keen on all these high–rise buildings that seem to proliferate everywhere you look. To me London’s lost some of its character. What do you think?’ He turned towards her, with a smile.
‘I understand that we need to build upwards, and I’m sure the views are fantastic. But I wouldn’t want to live or work so high up. To me it’s a way of shouting “money” rather than a real answer to the lack of housing. No average person could afford to live in those towering edifices. And I always think about what happens if there’s a power cut and the lifts stop working!’ she said, grinning.
‘Fair point. My hotels were never more than five or six storeys high, which was manageable.’ He waved his hand and added, ‘But this is more like the real London. A mix of really old buildings next to some great modern architecture.’
Louisa followed his line of sight, taking in the area of the Strand and Aldwych. ‘I agree. I love this part of the city. Where did you live when you were here?’
‘I had a pokey little flat in Greek Street, handy for the hotel where I worked. So I got to know this part of London pretty well.’
‘What about Mum? Where was she based when…when you saw each other?’ Louisa found it uncomfortable visualising them as a couple. A lifetime ago. Literally. Hers.
Malcolm shifted in his seat. ‘Susan shared a flat with another girl in Holborn. A friend from school, if I remember rightly.’
‘Mm, I think she did mention something about sharing with a friend.’
They fell into a companionable silence. Louisa did not want to dwell any more on her mother’s past and she guessed that it was equally awkward for her father. After all, he had not behaved very well at that time, had he? As they drew closer to Islington, she began to regret asking Malcolm to stay with her. It would be as if he was invading her mother’s personal space, even though she was no longer around. Her stomach clenched at the unwanted memory. It was too late to change her mind so she would have to make the best of it. As she was trying to tell herself it would be fine, the car turned off City Road into the small terrace of Georgian houses tucked away behind Angel station.
The car stopped outside a house with shuttered windows and Louisa found herself saying, with a brightness she did not feel, ‘Here we are. Home.’