Jeremy was standing on the balcony overlooking the stretch of water between the apartment he was renting up the hill from the old town of Dubrovnik and the little island of Lokrum, which was looking green and lush in spite of the hot summer it had so far endured. It was quite appropriate that Paul Young’s ‘Wherever I Lay my Hat’ was playing in the background on the surprisingly up-to-date local radio station. This had been Jeremy’s home for the last few months even though he didn’t favour wearing hats much. He stroked his beard, as usual wondering if he’d ever feel comfortable enough to get rid of it. Even though he’d been back in Dubrovnik since early summer, today had been the first time he’d ventured across to the island. It was something he just felt he had to do and today had felt the right time to. However it had been an oddly disturbing experience that he was having difficulty coming to terms with.
Adrijana came through from the kitchen area with a cup of coffee.
‘Do you fancy a cup before you have to go down to the restaurant?’
She put her arms round him and kissed the back of his neck.
‘Are you okay? You seemed to be miles away. It looks like a storm’s on the way; you better get going soon if you don’t want to get soaked. They can be pretty dramatic, you know.’
‘Hey that’s enough questions. I’m fine and no, I won’t have a coffee now, I’ll get a drink when I get there.’
Jeremy had been working with Howard since returning to the city after a few months in hiding, in Athens for a few weeks before renting a room above a bar in the small town of Malia on the northern coast of Crete. He’d taken enough of the money he’d regained from Gemma to get by, leaving most of it for Howard to invest in expanding the café. And things had gone pretty well by all accounts; as well as the café downstairs, Howard had used the extra money to buy upstairs and open what was beginning to establish itself as a pretty decent upmarket restaurant.
Looking back, meeting Howard had been a godsend. He’d helped Jeremy change his identity and get away from the city without passing any judgement; in fact, he had seemed to be in his element helping arrange things back in November. Even though they’d only re-established contact a few days previously, Jeremy had been happy to trust him with over £40,000 while he laid low. In reality he hadn’t had much choice: his options were limited and carrying that amount of cash around wasn’t really one of them. Nonetheless his instincts had proved right as far as Howard was concerned. He even quite liked the sound of his new name too.
He grabbed a coat and gave Adrijana a quick kiss.
‘You going to come down before closing, have a quick drink maybe?’
‘Yes probably, will pop in on my mum and dad on the way down, see you later.’
It was just after five o’clock and it would take him about 15 minutes to walk down the hill to the old city and the restaurant. Although still hot, it was a pleasant enough walk, onto Ulica Franca Supila and then down past the Hotel Excelsior, originally built seventy odd years ago but regularly upgraded to maintain its position as the most elegant and best situated place for the rich and famous to stay – after all, both Elizabeth Taylor and Queen Elizabeth II had been guests, so it had some credibility. As he had expected, the pebbled beach outside the city gates was still pretty packed at this time of day – tourism really was beginning to take off in Dubrovnik, and so much the better, thought Jeremy. Howard’s Taverna was just off Placa Ulica, the main thoroughfare running through the old city. In spite of its lack of originality, Jeremy was happy enough with the name, he wasn’t after any publicity and it was Howard’s venture after all. When he arrived it would be the transition period between the daytime café trade and the arrival of the early evening diners. The general arrangement was for Jeremy to oversee the evening business with Howard doing the daytime shift. Most evenings, though, Howard and Branka would come and join Jeremy and Adrijana for a few drinks and to sort out any of the practical issues that came with the business. Howard had an apartment just a few minutes away in the old city itself. Branka’s friend Adrijana had been a regular visitor when Jeremy had returned to the city and it had been a stroke of luck that she was good looking and single. After one of their post-closing drinking sessions, Jeremy and she had carried on and gone on into the town before ending up at the apartment Howard had sorted for Jeremy’s return after they had decided he’d be better off away from the city for a few months at least.
Apparently Yugoslavian women were renowned for their beauty and Adrijana gave credence to that; tall and slender, she had a Mediterranean complexion, with olive coloured skin, light brown hair and deep brown eyes. Although she usually tended to dress casually in sandals, T-shirts and skirts, she managed to radiate both elegance and sexiness. Jeremy felt as happy as he had done for years. Howard himself had proved to be easy to work with and good company. He had become something of an expert in the local liqueurs and Jeremy had quickly learned to appreciate them himself. He had soon developed a taste for Rakia, or Grappa as the regulars called it, some of which was well over fifty per cent alcohol; but even more so for Slivovitz, made from damson plums and typically served from elegant, leather-wrapped bottles. He certainly hadn’t missed the drugs which he reckoned paled by comparison.
As he reached Ploce Gate, the Eastern entrance to the old city, the sun was still shining although the storm clouds they’d seen from the balcony were gathering force. A cruise ship was just visible on the horizon, no doubt heading for the port for a weekend stopover. It seemed, to the outside world at least, that things hadn’t changed that much since the fateful day last November. He’d actually been back to the scene that lunchtime and while being strangely moved by it, it was apparent that those events hadn’t impacted on the wider world. It had been the first time since then and the first time under his new guise as Jeremy. He had needed to see for himself whether the scene matched his memory, and the occasional nightmares too.
As it had turned out, the island of Lokrum was becoming ever more popular with tourists, while Mrtvo More itself had looked quite benign and inviting, even. There was no sign of the accident nine months previously; certainly none of the bathers there showed any concern. The only acknowledgement of Gemma’s death seemed to be a sign that hadn’t been there last November warning of the dangers of jumping off the rocks. It didn’t appear to be having much effect and Jeremy hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the show-offs diving from the rocks without a care for the danger.
That day last November, when he was still Mark, remained etched on his mind. As they hit the water Mark had assumed that was it; one hand was grasping Gemma’s arm but they separated as they sank. She had been nearest to the rocky wall and he heard her head crack against a protruding stone. He had managed to grab some kind of bush or plant and had eventually scrambled to the surface and hauled himself up to the platform they’d fallen off. There had been no sign of Gemma.
It hadn’t taken him long to realise that there was no way he could save Gemma; or that if he reported this it wouldn’t look good for him. And it hadn’t taken him too much longer to realise that the money he’d taken back in England and brought with him on the cruise must still be in Gemma’s things on the Uganda; and that his best bet would be to get back and away as soon as he could. Sure, it had been an accident but he wasn’t prepared to risk trying to convince the police or anyone else of that. It wasn’t as if he had wished any of this on Gemma, or that he could help her now – of course he would have done if there had been any chance of saving her. The tragedy was that in the end he had changed his mind about harming her and would have been quite happy to have left her to go back to England and stayed on in Dubrovnik alone to develop the venture with Howard. If she hadn’t gone off on one and threatened to grass him up over the death of her mother, which she had engineered anyway, then none of this would have happened. As usual, it hadn’t really been his fault – why hadn’t she let him explain? It had helped his state of mind that he knew it had been an accident, but he also knew it would be highly unlikely to be seen as such.
As it was, he had tried to wring out his jeans and jacket with little effect and had headed back to the jetty and café; it had been as deserted as before and he managed to take some kind of overcoat and scarf from a rack at the back of the café which covered most of his other clothes. It was a stroke of luck that it was the Zrinski, the other of the two ferries, that had appeared after a few minutes, with its crew having no idea that he had arrived on the island with a woman. He’d got back to Dubrovnik and then the cruise ship without attracting any particular attention. Sure enough the money he had originally taken was now stored neatly at the bottom of Gemma’s case. No one had raised even an eyebrow when he’d left the ship with his and her suitcases, telling the crew members he came across that he was meeting Gemma in the city ready for the flight back to England. There had been a slight panic when he had tried to surreptitiously dump her luggage into the harbour; the noise when it hit the water seemed to drown everything else out, but no one else showed any sign of noticing.
He had headed up to Howard’s café with no particular plan in mind although he realised he would need some help and that Howard was his only option. As it turned out, Howard had been amazing; he agreed it wouldn’t look good for Mark and offered to help him hide. He turned out to have more about him than Mark had realised, and had managed to organise getting a false identity and passport from some contact he had in the city. They decided it would be best for Mark to leave the city for a few months at least and Howard promised to keep an eye on things and see if he could pick up if anything was reported about Gemma. Mark was happy enough to pay him for the identity change and then to leave the bulk of his money to invest in the café – after all, that had been on his mind even before the accident with Gemma. Also it might not have been too sensible to go into hiding with a large stash of money and it certainly wouldn’t be sensible to try and deposit it anywhere officially. Although he was the first to admit he wasn’t the best judge of character, Mark had just felt there was something genuine about Howard. They agreed that after a few months and before the summer season, Mark could come back under his new identity and work with Howard in some kind of partnership. As Howard had said, there was no reason for anyone to connect Mark with him. They had agreed that the best thing for the moment would be to hide at Howard’s for a few days while a passport was sorted out and then to get away as soon as possible. As it turned out that had taken a few days and Mark had arrived in Athens as Jeremy before the end of November.
Adrijana poured herself a drink and sat next to him.
‘How was it tonight?’
‘Yes, busy, pretty packed between 9 and 10.’
‘Great. Look, leave the tidying, let’s go back and have a nightcap at home. I’ve got some good news: my dad said he’d buy the apartment for me, apparently he knows the owner is keen to sell it. You know, I think he likes you and I reckon it’s also because he wants me to stay here in Dubrovnik, close to the family. And after all he can well afford it.’
So things hadn’t gone too badly. He was sorry about Gemma but then it was an accident; and who knows, perhaps fate?