Christmas Wishes (31 page)

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Authors: Katie Flynn

Tags: #Traditional British, #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction

BOOK: Christmas Wishes
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‘Oh, Gillian, it’s too soon … and you know how I hate meeting strangers,’ Joy said, dismayed. ‘Look, I’ll go off with Irene when Keith reappears … or someone else I know. Vera Wotsit if you like, or Chalky, if he’s feeling generous and doesn’t mind bear-leading a blind girl.’

‘That’s not a very nice thing to say. Chalky’s a good bloke and he’s known you since you were knee high to a grasshopper, so I’m sure he’d be delighted to squire a lovely young lady on a country walk, even if she does happen to be blind,’ Gillian said sharply. ‘Honestly, Joy, you mustn’t have a chip on your shoulder about young men.’

‘Young? Chalky’s thirty if he’s a day, and really, Gillian, you’ve got to give me time to make my own friends. Your Keith won’t come home until September and he’ll be back at university in October, so I have a whole month to find someone – either a boy or a girl, I’m not fussy – to go around with.’ Joy took a large bite of her scone and then several mouthfuls of coffee before she spoke again. ‘And now, if you’ll kindly stop your matchmaking plans, why don’t you ask me what I would like to do this afternoon?’

‘But surely you’d like to watch the cricket match … no, no, I don’t mean that, but surely you’d like to meet some of the fellers I know who’ll be playing?’ Joy heard a certain desperation enter her twin’s voice. ‘I don’t like to think of you all on your ownio when Keith comes back.’

‘Don’t be so daft; as if I could be alone when there’s Dad, and Irene, and dear Auntie Clarke, as well as countless neighbours and friends,’ Joy said at once. ‘Besides, I may land a job next week for all you know. So now will you listen whilst I tell you what I’d like to do after we’ve had some lunch?’

‘Carry on then,’ Gillian said resignedly through a mouthful of scone. ‘Will we have time to take a boat out on the lake before lunch, do you suppose? I thought you’d like that, but maybe I was wrong.’

Joy reached across the table to pat her twin’s arm but missed and patted the table instead. ‘I’d love to take a boat out, especially if you’d let me have a go at rowing,’ she said. ‘But this afternoon I thought we might go and see Susie. Do you remember her? She was in our class in Bold Street that first term, but we didn’t get really friendly until after the accident when you’d gone on to St Hilda’s. She lives quite near the cathedral, on Rathbone Street.’

‘Oh, her,’ Gillian said rather dismissively, then brightened. Joy could almost hear the thought arriving in her twin’s mind that a friend like Susie might be very useful when she herself had no wish to accompany Joy on some expedition or other. ‘Yes, I remember Susie; nice kid. And if she’s not home we can walk up to the new cathedral and see how they’re getting on with it. Then we can catch a tram into the centre and visit the shops.’

Joy finished her scone, drank the last of her coffee and stood up, waiting for Gillian to take her hand and guide her away from the maze of little metal tables which she remembered from previous visits. ‘That sounds like fun,’ she said appreciatively. She knew her twin loved the big shops and enjoyed shopping, whereas Joy herself, even before her blindness, looked upon shopping as a chore. However, she did not say so, merely remarking that if they were going to hire a boat they had best go straight to the lake, which she could guess was quite near, for the splash of water against the wooden hulls and the excited shouts of children would have led her in the right direction even if she had been alone.

The girls hired a rowing boat with hilarious results, for Joy had never rowed before and despite her sister’s careful instructions caught many a crab, drove the nose of the boat into the bank and showered the pair of them with lake water. When they returned to the shore Joy asked her twin whether many people had been staring at them, but Gillian assured her that this was not so. ‘Remember, it’s the beginning of the school holidays so there are a good few dads trying to teach their kids to row,’ she said. ‘You think you’re the only person missing the water altogether and landing on their back in the bottom of the boat, but it was happening all around. I bet not one other person on this lake, or watching from the bank, realised that you’re blind. Honest Injun, Joy, you’ve done awfully well. I think we ought to come up here whenever we’ve got time and money to spare, so that you can add rowing a boat to your other accomplishments. Would you like that?’

Joy assured her that she would like it very much indeed and hurried happily out of the park, along the pavement and into the café of their choice, holding far more lightly to Gillian’s arm than she had done at the start of their expedition.

Lunch was cheap and cheerful – minced beef and onion pie and mashed potatoes followed by stewed fruit and custard – and when they set out to catch a tram towards Rathbone Street Joy was still thinking how nice it would be if she could become at home on the water and impress her father with her new skill. When they got aboard the tram, Gillian remarked that considering the soaking they had endured on the boating lake they now looked very respectable, for their clothes had dried whilst they enjoyed their lunch and they had taken the opportunity to nip into the ladies’ cloakroom, where Gillian had tidied first herself and then her sister.

They got off the tram at Mount Pleasant and stood for a moment whilst Joy guessed Gillian was trying to decide which way to turn; she was soon proved right.

‘Dammit, it’s years since I came up here and I can’t remember the quickest way to the cathedral,’ Gillian said crossly. Her voice brightened. ‘But I reckon we can’t go far wrong if we read the street signs …’ She broke off and caught hold of Joy’s hand, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. ‘Oh, Joy, you’ll never guess where we are. We’re at the top of Rodney Street!’

Joy gave a squeak. ‘Well, of all the strange things! I say, Gillian, now we can see for ourselves whether the old fellow on the train is really a doctor …’

‘Or whether he’s a young man,’ Gillian put in. ‘You told me the guard said he was dark-haired, so he might not be all that old.’ Her tone was teasing and Joy reflected that the very word ‘doctor’ had brought to her twin’s mind, as well as her own, the picture of an elderly man. ‘We’ll be like Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings, searching for clues.’

‘But we’ve already got the biggest clue of all, which is his name,’ Joy objected. ‘How can we find out whether he really is a doctor?’

‘Oh, Joy, what a fool you are,’ Gillian said, but her tone was teasing and she squeezed her sister’s hand again as she spoke. ‘We shall have to examine every brass plate as we pass each front door. Slocombe’s an unusual name, so if we come across it we’ll know it’s your travelling companion.’

‘Not that we shall come across it,’ Joy said at once. ‘I just cannot believe that the fellow was a doctor; doctors don’t behave like that, trying to force themselves on total strangers.’

Three-quarters of the way down the street, Gillian was beginning to say that it looked as though Joy had been right, for they had come across many names – some of the brass plates detailing more than one medical occupant – but not a single Slocombe, when she clutched her sister’s arm so tightly that Joy exclaimed.

‘I was wrong,’ Gillian hissed in a thrilling undertone. ‘He
does
exist! His name is R. P. Slocombe and he has a list of letters after his name longer than any other doctor we’ve seen so far.’

‘We haven’t seen any doctors,’ Joy objected with a chuckle. If Gillian would persist in acting the Great Detective then she should get her facts right. But her sister, though she laughed, gave Joy’s hand a little pinch.

‘You know what I mean. Well, what’s our next move? How about booking an appointment with his receptionist?’

Joy shuddered. ‘You can if you like, but I shan’t. I tell you I didn’t care for him at all, so I’ve no intention of waltzing straight into the lion’s den.’

There was a pause whilst Gillian, presumably, thought things over, then she spoke with all her usual decisiveness. ‘All right, I take your point. I could go in alone and try to make an appointment … no, that won’t do.’ She cursed under her breath. ‘What a bloody nuisance it is to be identical twins! He might not know me, but he’d recognise me as you, and he’d think … Oh, stop giggling, Joy. You know very well what I mean.’

‘Yes, but now we know he’s genuine why can’t we just go round to Susie’s house, see if she’s home?’ Joy said plaintively. ‘I’ve been close to Dr Slocombe once and I don’t want to repeat the experience. Oh, Gillian, let’s keep walking. I’m sure people are staring at us.’

‘They aren’t, and I’d still like to take a look at the man himself,’ Gillian said obstinately. ‘We can’t possibly hang around here until he comes out, though, particularly as he’ll almost certainly live on the premises; they’re huge houses. There would be heaps of room for Dr Slocombe, a wife, half a dozen children and even a servant of some description …’ She broke off abruptly and her voice, which had been pitched at a normal level, sank to a whisper once more. ‘There’s someone in the front window! He’s quite young, with fair hair and horn-rimmed spectacles … oh, but he’ll be a patient, of course; I remember someone telling me once that all the waiting rooms are in the front and the consulting rooms at the back of these houses, so that passers-by can’t see what’s going on.’ She let go of Joy’s arm for a moment. ‘If we were to make our way round to the back of the house, we might be able to look into old Slocombe’s consulting room and see if he’s old or young, or handsome or ugly. Then at least we should know what manner of man was trying to seduce my little sister.’

‘Well, I’m not interested,’ Joy began, only to feel her arm firmly seized as Gillian began to hurry her along the pavement.

‘Shut up and be guided by me, in every sense of the word,’ Gillian ordered brusquely. ‘Every household has to have dustbins and dustbins have to be emptied.’

‘But what’s the point?’ Joy asked breathlessly as she was hurried along. ‘What have his dustbins got to say in the matter?’

‘The dustbins will be in a back yard, and the yard will abut on the next road parallel to this one,’ Gillian said. ‘There’ll be a wall, of course, but if we go through the gate we’ll be able to see the window of the consulting room and with luck we’ll get a really good view of the doctor. So if we turn right and right again, and count the back doors, or gates, or whatever they are, we’ll find ourselves at the back of old Slocombe’s house. What do you think?’

‘I want no part of it,’ Joy said at once. ‘Oh, I know you, Gillian Lawrence! You make a habit of rushing in where angels fear to tread, but I’m the cautious twin, remember?’

Gillian laughed. ‘I know it’s not much of an idea, but you never know. Tell you what, I’ll knock on the window and pull faces, and when he comes roaring out you’ll hear his voice.’

‘What do I want to hear his voice for? We know he’s genuine and therefore he’s the man on the train,’ Joy said. ‘I wish I’d never started this. All I want to do now is go to Susie’s; I certainly don’t intend to go prancing around his premises. Remember, he knows me even if I don’t know him. He gave me the creeps. Oh, Gillian, do let’s go.’

Gillian heaved a sigh. ‘You needn’t come with me, but I intend to go round the back and see if I can get a look at him.’

Joy was about to object again when Gillian abruptly turned right up a side street, pulling Joy with her, and after a very short distance turned right again. ‘This is the road that runs along the backs of the houses on Rodney Street,’ she told her sister. ‘There are walls, quite tall ones, but they wouldn’t be impossible to climb if you’re reasonably agile, and once on top I shall have an excellent view of your doctor’s premises.’ After a few minutes, during which Joy heard her counting under her breath, she stopped again. ‘Ah, this will be the one. Even if I only see his back view, at least I’ll know if he’s middle-aged and respectable … Oh, look at that!’

‘Look at what?’ Joy asked. ‘Oh, don’t do anything foolish, please Gillian!’

‘There’s a door in the wall,’ Gillian said, still holding Joy firmly by one arm. She swung her round until Joy could feel she was in a corner where two walls joined. ‘Stay there and don’t move, no matter what,’ she instructed. ‘I shan’t be a tick; don’t you worry, dear Joy. No one will even think of a spy approaching via the dustbins!’

‘Oh, Gillian, don’t be an idiot. It’s far too dangerous,’ Joy said. ‘What does it matter if the doctor was speaking the truth or lying like a flat fish? And anyway, we know he’s genuine because of the brass plate …’

She stopped speaking. She knew that her sister had gone, leaving her most uncomfortably situated, pressed into a corner and presumably at least partially hidden by a tree whose branches drooped over one of the walls. She had no idea what was happening and felt both frightened and alone. Fortunately, however, she had her white stick, and if Gillian didn’t return for her she could tap her way back to Rodney Street and ask any passer-by for directions. But right now she was far too worried that Gillian might get into trouble to think more than fleetingly of her own predicament. Trespassing on someone else’s property was wrong and could put the trespasser in court, she believed. Gillian, so bold and unafraid, would be bound to get into trouble.

And she was right. She heard a door creak as her sister entered the yard, heard the softest of sounds as she began to move across it. Then there was a scuffling noise and someone said: ‘I’ll just put the sack out ready for the dustmen tomorrow … My God!’ The voice became an angry shout. ‘What the devil are you up to, young lady? How dare you …’

Even in her panic Joy did not think she recognised the voice and anyway she dared not move, pressing herself even further into her hiding place.

But Gillian must have lost her nerve, for the man’s voice suddenly sharpened and there was a tremendous crash before the door creaked again and someone – it was Gillian, she knew – dashed past. Before Joy could react, a man’s heavier tread ran past, and then there was silence.

Joy’s heart was beating so hard that she was sure it could be heard a mile away, but the pursuit had passed her by, apparently without the chaser having so much as noticed her. Gillian, of course, had clearly not wanted to draw attention to her by speaking and the man, intent upon catching Gillian, had not even seen her, she supposed. Indeed, if he really was the doctor and not an assistant or even a patient, she was very glad he had not spotted her, because if he had he would have realised at once that she was his acquaintance from the train. Blind girls are not exactly ten a penny, she told herself ruefully as the running footsteps died away.

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