Cold (3 page)

After slamming the phone down, she passed a dumbstruck Harry and went back to her bedroom. She pulled on some underwear and jeans and a sweater, and then sat on the bed pulling a pair of sturdy ankle boots on.

"D'you want me to come with you?" asked Harry, amazed at how quickly her friend could dress.

"It's up to you. If you want to come, you had better be quick. I'll get the car out. Meet you downstairs."

Harry quickly dressed and ran down the stairs. Jo was waiting outside the front door in the Merc.

Harry shivered in the cold winter night. She eased into the passenger side of the convertible, reaching forward as she did so to make sure the heat was turned up to its highest setting.

Jo had pulled out of the courtyard and onto the main road before Harry had a chance to secure her seatbelt.

The streets were mostly quiet. The exceptionally cold weather and the late hour combined to keep most people in. A few cars were about, taking people home from nightclubs and maybe workers home after a long day.

The occasional police car passed them as they made their way through the damp and freezing streets.

Harry marvelled at Jo's knowledge of the streets, not knowing the part of London they were entering at all.

Before long they arrived in a long street and Jo drove down it slowly, leaning over the steering wheel to see the numbers on the doors.

"There it is," she said and pulled up against the kerb.

She was out of the car and scanning the names below the six or so bells for the correct name. She rang one of them and waited.

"Yes?" the mechanical voice said.

She leaned close to the intercom. "Joanna," was all she said.

There was a buzz, and she pushed the door open. Harry trudged along behind her, beginning to doubt her desire to follow her friend on this ridiculous chase across London.

Charles DeBurgh was waiting by the open door of his apartment. He was wearing only a pair of red pyjama bottoms, and holding a glass with an unidentifiable substance in.

He stood aside and allowed the two women to enter.

"I don't know why I agreed to this," he said, gesturing towards the lounge. "Has this got anything to do with the exhibition?"

Harry looked towards Jo when no answer was forthcoming. The tall woman was standing just inside the doorway, looking around her as if wondering where she was and how she got there.

The blonde woman took hold of Jo's arm, "Jo, are you ok?"

"What the hell am I doing?" she asked, turning away from Harry and facing a bemused photographer.

"Shit! I hope you haven't dragged me out of bed because you're fucking well PMSing." Charles turned away from the two women and stalked into his lounge, slumping down on the sofa and taking a long draught of the drink he held in his hand.

The two women followed him into the room, Harry sitting in one of the plump armchairs and Jo wandering aimlessly around the room.

"One of the pictures in the exhibition..." Jo began, but faltered.

"Well?" said Charles, his patience obviously waning.

Jo closed her eyes. "I can't get her face out of my mind." There it was. Simple. To the point.

Charles was quiet for a long moment, taking in the pale face of the woman standing before him. Then he stood abruptly. "Come with me."

He led them to what they assumed was his office. There was a computer and a number of filing cabinets. From one he took a number of folders. He handed them to Jo. "That's all the photographs I had at the gallery."

Jo sat on the small sofa that was in the room and placed the folders on the cushion next to her. With shaking hands she took out the photos. All were 6x4 colour prints.. There were three folders, and Jo carefully looked at each photo before placing it back in the folder.

Charles waggled his empty glass at them and left the room. Harry sat on the chair in front of the computer table.

The blonde watched Jo as she went through the pictures, one by one. Then her attention shifted. She surveyed the rest of the small room, then her gaze fell on the small clock sitting beside the computer. 02.47. Was she really sitting in a virtual stranger's flat, in the small hours of the morning, chasing after.... a what? What were they doing here? Chasing a dream? And not even her dream. The dream of this woman, who she loved. Like a sister? No, no sister would do the things to a sibling that she had in mind for Jo. But Jo didn't want that with her, and she would abide by her friend's decision.

A gasp brought her out of her musings.

Jo was looking at a photo, holding it in shaking hands. "They're green," she whispered.

Harry moved the folders away from Jo's side and sat next to her friend, peering at the picture still held carefully in her hands.

Jo turned towards Harry. "Her eyes are green, the same as in my dream. How did I know that?"

Harry took the photograph from Jo, and looked long and hard at the face staring back at her. "I thought you didn't see much of her in the dream."

"I didn't." Jo took a handful of her own hair in both hands and pulled sharply. She took in a deep breath. "This is crazy. What am I going to say to Charles? He's going to think I'm some crazy woman."

There was no answer from her friend who was studying the photo with quiet deliberation.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

Harry didn't look up. For a start, she didn't know how to answer Jo. Yes, she had, on the drive to Charles' flat, decided that her best friend had finally lost her marbles. All the nights of partying, enjoying the attentions of beautiful women, had finally taken their toll. But it was the broken sound of Jo's voice that silenced her.

She handed the photo back. "I'm going to talk to Charles. Take a moment to think."

Jo nodded, her shoulders slumped.

Harry found Charles sitting in his lounge, nursing another glass of whatever he was drinking.

"Can I?" Harry said, pointing towards the small bar.

"Be my guest," said Charles, but there was a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

Harry poured herself a whisky and sat back down on the sofa, facing Charles.

"This isn't like Jo at all." Harry watched him, waiting for the caustic reply she was sure was coming.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I've never seen her like this before. Jo is the youngest of Lord and Lady Collingford's children. They have never pushed her. And she has no ambition." Harry searched for the right words. "She's a ..... free spirit. That's the best way I know to describe her. She's never had a worry in her life. Anything she's ever wanted, her parents have bought her. The biggest decision she makes is which restaurant to visit on which night."

Charles looked at her vacantly. "And you're telling me this..... for some reason?"

"I'm trying to explain how out of character this is for her. Something has shaken her so badly she feels she needs to chase around London, in the small hours, just to try to get to the bottom of it." Harry looked at the man, feeling she was battering her head against a brick wall. However strange her friend's actions were to her, she would still defend Jo to the last.

Charles looked up, and Harry followed his gaze, finding Jo standing in the doorway.

She walked across the room towards Charles, the picture in her hands. "Can you tell me who this is?" she asked

Charles couldn't take his eyes from the troubled, blue gaze. He reached out and took the photo. Tearing his eyes from Jo's, he looked down at the face on the photo.

"Rocky," he said.

A muted chuckle from Harry was quickly arrested when the blonde saw the confusion on Jo's face.

"Rocky?" the tall woman said.

"I should imagine that wasn't her real name."

"Rocky." Jo said again, feeling the name, deciding something was wrong. "You've spoken to her?"

Charles shrugged. "Briefly. She's not terribly talkative. Very nervous of strangers."

"How did you manage to get her to pose for this then?" asked Jo, taking the picture from Charles. She stared at it. `Rocky'? Even though she didn't know the girl's name, she instinctively knew that wasn't it.

Charles laughed; not a nice laugh, Jo decided. "She didn't pose. I got that after waiting for hours for her. It became something of a challenge."

"She didn't want her picture taken then?" Harry asked.

"Not likely." Charles drained his glass and rose to get a refill.

"But you took it anyway," said Jo.

Charles turned from the bar, his glass now full. "Look at that face, Jo. I had to capture that. "

"So it was like some kind of game for you. A hunt?"

Another shrug from the photographer. "You could call it that, I suppose. I waited for three days before I got that shot."

"Where?" Jo asked, her stomach clenching; she was getting close.

"Where what?" Charles was looking smug now, remembering outwitting the girl who had been so elusive.

"Where did you finally... shoot her?" Jo now had her eyes closed, the events of the past few hours catching up with her.

"Oh, it was around Whitechapel somewhere. There's a regular soup run down there most evenings. I just waited for her to make an appearance."

Jo nodded and turned troubled blue eyes on her friend. "Harry?"

Harry stood and moved to Jo's side.

"Can I keep this?" Jo asked, waving the photo at the man.

"Be my guest." Charles put his empty glass on the bar and ushered the women out of the lounge. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going back to bed."

Just as he was about to close the door to his apartment after seeing them out, Jo stopped him. "Charles, I'm sorry, I don't..."

"Whatever," said Charles, and shut the door.

As they got to the Merc gleaming dully in the streetlight, Harry put her hand out. "I'm driving."

"Harry, there's no need." Jo protested.

"I think I'd feel better." Harry was unmoving, holding her hand out until Jo placed in it the keys with the small remote control for the alarm attached. After disarming the alarm, the two women climbed in, Jo still clutching the photograph in her hands. "Home then?" asked Harry quietly.

Jo nodded. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't understand this."

"Me neither."

"Who do you think she is?" Jo was looking at the picture, squinting at it in the artificial light. Jo gave a brief chuckle as a thought occurred to her, "And why do I care?"

Jo sat on the floor in front of the gas fire in her lounge, staring at the photograph.

The girl's hair was blonde, naturally highlighted by the sun. It looked clean. She remembered seeing footage of homeless people on the news once, and the fact that their hair always looked as though it hadn't seen a drop of water or shampoo in years had struck her. This girl was different. The blonde hair fell across her forehead, the very tips tangling with the dark eyelashes that framed her eyes. Jo took long moments looking into those eyes. If she looked closely she could see other colours mixed with the green. Hazel and gold. The eyes of the girl stared out at her, unflinching, and Jo found herself having to look away from them. She lowered her gaze to the lips, and now Jo could see that they were slightly parted and the very edge of even white teeth could just be seen. Again, Jo was surprised. She expected a person living on the streets to find the everyday toiletries that she took for granted hard to come by. Jo smiled to herself, amazed at the absurdity of the thought that sprang into her mind. It would make kissing her a more pleasurable experience if she'd brushed her teeth in the previous 12 hours or so.

Jo started to laugh. What was she thinking?

Her laughing brought Harry from the kitchen where she was watching the milk that was boiling in a saucepan.

"What's funny?" Harry asked.

Jo shrugged. "Just thinking stupid thoughts."

Harry watched her for a moment, and then returned to the kitchen.

"Stupid, stupid thoughts," Jo whispered to herself. "Who are you, Rocky?"

Harry returned some moments later with two mugs of steaming coffee.

"What are you going to do now?" Harry sipped her coffee, curling herself into the armchair.

"Well, I thought we'd take a drive around when it gets light, see what we can see. Charles said something about Whitechapel. We'll take a look around down there, maybe ask some questions. If we've found nothing by the evening, we'll see if we can latch on to one of those soup wagons. I think they travel to more than one place. I'll take the photo; someone must have seen her."

Jo looked up to see Harry regarding her, open-mouthed. "What?" Jo asked.

"Would you listen to yourself, Jo. What the hell is going on?"

Jo's mouth opened and closed a couple of times; no sound was forthcoming, however.

"You're really going to scour London looking for what is obviously a vagrant." Harry placed her mug on the low table and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "And then what? Have you thought about that?"

The colour was draining from Jo's face, confusion now in the blue eyes.

"Didn't think so." Harry continued. "So when you find her you say: 'Oh hi. I'm Jo, and I've been dreaming about you. I'm not crazy, but I want you to come home with me.'" Harry sat back, crossing her arms across her chest, waiting for her friend's response.

"I have to do something," Jo said quietly. "I feel I have to. Need to."

"You're chasing after some kind of fantasy, Jo."

"No. She's real, I'm sure she is."

"I'm real, Jo. I'm here. I don't understand you." Harry's head fell forward, her eyes squeezed shut.

"What are you saying?"

"You really don't know, do you."

"No I don't." Jo watched her friend with concern, taking in the silent tears that tracked down her cheeks.

Harry let out a long, hitching breath. "I think I should go," she said, standing.