Live to Tell (33 page)

“Nice to see you again, Madam. Welcome back to Dorchester.” The man behind the familiar hotel desk held two keys aloft. “Would you prefer a room at the front, or one at the rear? The better ones are at the front but of course, sometimes, one at the back’s quieter. And they’re all en-suite.”

I smiled just relieved to be there. Moments earlier and with a loud thud, I dropped my bag onto the floor of the hotel’s reception area. I hoped that I would have the strength to bend down again to pick it up. Feeling exhausted, I was sure that a quiet night’s sleep would not be an issue for me.

“I could probably fall asleep standing here leaning against this panelling,” I said, “so any room will be fine.” I smiled at him and carefully looked across the room at a gloomy corridor, adorned with oil paintings that stretched away to the rear. To my utter relief no one was lurking in it who shouldn’t be there. Just checking, I thought.

“Josephine, perhaps you could show this lady both the rooms, so that she can choose the one that suits her best. Would you like to register first? Then you won’t need to come back down to reception. It’s always nice to greet a regular guest.”

“Thank you. Yes, I will. I’m really pleased you have something available. I’ve been driving for over four hours and hardly made it in from the car park. I feel shattered.”

The man smiled back. “Well, if you want anything, just ring down. Josephine, can you take Mrs Powell’s bag? You’ll find coffee and tea in your room but anything else, just call.”

Normally, I would happily have carried my own bag, but my side was throbbing so much I was grateful for her help. The last few miles were purgatory with the ache in my side increasing by the minute. We took the lift, arriving at a third floor room at the front of the building. As it seemed to have everything the average woman on the run might need, I sent my guide away and placed the “Do not disturb” sign on the door. Dark and subdued, the room was inviting with a soft, rose pink quilt on the bed and I desperately wanted to lie down on it. With difficulty I struggled out of my clothes filled the bath with water and gazed in despair at my bruises. I wouldn’t be able to drive if anything was broken, would I? Perhaps I
should
have called at a hospital just to be sure. And the seat belt didn’t exactly help, did it? Oh, what the hell. I went back into the bedroom and sat crossed legged on the bed.

Why oh why hadn’t I left the collector alone? Pretended I didn’t know him; just got on with my own life. I had just emerged from what seemed like an intense twilight. Things at last, seemed bright and hopeful. Now all that was destroyed. I had got involved again with that bloodsucker, and I knew I would pay for it for the rest of eternity. I had ruined everything.

What almost shocked me most was that for the first time since Danny’s death, I’d actually come close to getting involved with someone else. Connecting like that with another man was the last thing I expected. We certainly don’t have much in common, I thought. He hasn’t killed anyone! Suddenly I wanted to howl. I covered my mouth with my fist to suppress the scream that was trying to get out, then buried my head in my hands. How can I say to anyone, I love you darling, oh, and by the way I thought you’d like to know… ?

I must stop this and calm down, I thought. And anyway, even if things were normal, I’m sure it would never work with him. Maybe he seduces all his clients, then moves on to the next? Like, I won’t be parking the van there anymore meant I won’t be seeing your neighbour again. He might even become obsessive and jealous. But at least the choice should be mine to make. A tear fell down my face and I was consumed by self-pity. Was this going to be my life? Not daring to make friends. Not daring to allow anyone to get close to me? Unless the police get to me first of course.

I walked back into the bathroom and tipped some bath foam into the water. With great effort I climbed in. The hotel had provided a bathrobe as well as towels and after soaking till the water became barely lukewarm, I crawled back out and wrapped myself in it. Then I switched on the TV news channel and lay down.

I half-expected the dead man’s face to immediately flash across the screen but there was nothing about him. Perhaps it’s because I’m now in the West Country, not the South East, I thought. Perhaps the news is different here. It was a strange feeling, knowing that back at my house Barry and his blokes were half-way through their working day and that in my office, although everybody was probably wondering where the hell I was, they were all pootering about as usual. All so normal and yet I was two hundred miles away hiding.

I switched my phone on for a minute, just long enough to see I had two missed calls both from my father. Not the police then, I thought feeling sick. I closed my eyes and tried to relax but the demons inside my head wouldn’t let me rest. I had so many conflicting things to think about now. Oh Danny, I wish you were here. You’d know what to do. I can’t cope with all this.

To expel the images I concentrated on Barry finding me asleep on the floor, gazing mystified around the room, watching me and then staring at my breasts. I imagined him touching my body. I knew deep down it was the trauma of the moment that fuelled my desire. Perhaps it is ever thus. I still can’t decipher my emotions. In this vulnerable state am I especially drawn to Barry, or to just any man who might cherish and protect me? I honestly don’t know, I thought.

I did know that when I first left home this morning my intention was to conceal my whereabouts. To this end I decided to pay for everything I needed in cash. Pretending to drive north, I retraced my movements from the night before but instead of joining the North Circular Road, I struck out for the London Orbital. One of my fears was that I was being followed and when I reached the motorway, I drove eastward until I reached the service station at South Mimms. There a massive intersection that confused me in the past, led off in multiple directions. Pausing only at the services’ cash machine to withdraw enough money to keep me going for several days, I rejoined the roundabout. I concentrated hard, shot through a set of lights turning red, swiftly changed lanes and headed west.

And here I was, miles away from home, no friends, no lover and no job. I mustn’t cry, I thought fighting back my tears again. I am just tired.

With a start I sat up. My work! That was what brought me to Dorchester in the very first place. I might be able to use that fact to my advantage. I got off the bed, brushed my hair and inspected my suit. I had forgotten to pack a blouse, but the white t-shirt would do, until I could buy something. Next to the office I worked in spasmodically over the past year was an old-fashioned clothing shop. I’d be able to get something there.

In the afternoon sunlight this quaint little town seemed as far from suburban London as it was possible to be. If I were in the middle of the Sahara Desert I could not have felt farther away from the danger I was in, yet I kept myself alert. The risk of being followed by a predator was ever present, at least in my mind. I slipped in and out of several small shops on the way on the lookout for anyone out of place. But everyone in this rural retreat seemed totally normal. If I am being stalked, I thought, I can’t spot them.

I paused in a walkway opposite the county museum that was formerly a street market. Most of the buildings were made of Portland stone and the place had an air of solid grandeur. I pushed open a glass-fronted door, embossed with gold lettering and walked into the reception of the legal firm we occasionally did work for. “Good afternoon, Mrs Barrett. How are you?” The woman I addressed lifted her glasses off her nose and looked up surprised. She did not look overjoyed to see me.

“Have you got an appointment? I didn’t realise that you were coming in. Mr Abraham’s with someone at the moment.”

“No, no appointment, but I can wait. I’ll just sit over here.” I sat down and picked up one of the magazines on the coffee table and crossed my poor legs, as best I could.

Half-an-hour later an inner door opened and a worried looking man almost tumbled out. Mrs Barrett looked up and glared at him. Without a glance in her direction, he pulled his coat to and marched outside, shutting the outer door with a crash. She turned on her intercom and spoke to her employer. “Mrs Powell’s here, Ray, from London!”

His office door opened again and this time the familiar face of the senior partner in the firm appeared. “Well, this is a nice surprise. What brings you back here? We aren’t in trouble are we?”

I liked this man. He reminded me of my father, so I summoned up as good a smile as I could. “Just passing through,” I said. “Thought I’d drop by, in case you need anything more from us. Stephen likes us to keep in touch with clients whenever we are close.”

“Can you spare a minute and come in here? There is something you might be able to help with. To be frank, I’m at my wits end.”

He held the door open for me, and surprised by his terminology, I followed.

“It’s my brother,” he said, as I sat down opposite him. He left here a few minutes ago and, to be frank, the way he’s behaving, he’s heading for gaol. The Inland Revenue is after him and, quite honestly, he deserves what’s coming. I’ve tried to talk some sense into his head. I don’t know whether he really believes the garbage he spouts or it’s just bravado, but either way, he’s living in neverland and it won’t end well, of that I’m sure. Can you help?”

“I’m not a tax accountant. Er, one of the partners in the firm tends to handle the more complex cases.” I didn’t say it was my dad that I was talking about. He needn’t know that. “But I’ll do what I can.”

“As a non-expert, you might be able to help him. He doesn’t trust experts. I’ve seen your work and I’m sure you can provide us with the way forward. Would you consider it?”

“Well, I could create a spreadsheet for him to follow. Is he computer literate?”

For the first time since my arrival, he laughed out loud. “You’ve got to be joking. He can’t even use a calculator.”

“Okay. Right, well alternatively I could enter the data for the last tax year. It would take longer. And we could remotely monitor it from my office but obviously there would be an increased cost, and I can only input data that he’s actually holding. But if the Inland Revenue were happy with it, it might accept it as a model for any previous, missing years, but I couldn’t guarantee that.”

“Bless you. I’ll get him back.” He dialled a number and I was surprised that the man who had just left had a mobile phone. He seemed more the Morse code type to me. An hour later, Mr Abraham’s brother, Bill, grudgingly accepted the possibility of my firm’s involvement in his case. He probably realized that prison and a hefty fine were the only other alternatives open to him.

“I’ve got no time for accountants, or their fees, he muttered but I ignored the insult and smiled at him, not believing my luck.

“I’d better square it with my boss and find out what the charge will be. I’ll just give him a call.”

“We’ll get out of your hair then, for a minute, won’t we Bill?” Uncharacteristically, Ray shoved his brother in the direction of the door and closed it behind them, as they left the room.

I called Stephen and he picked up his phone immediately.

“I suppose you know it’s four thirty for God’s sake. Where are you?”

“I’m sorry Stephen, I thought you knew. It seems there’s been a bit of a mix up.” I lowered my voice. I didn’t want to be caught out by eavesdroppers. “I’ve only just found out that they called me direct, instead of going through you. Right now, I’m in Dorchester at Abraham and Fisher. They need some help with a special case. Er, it’s Mr Abraham’s brother, who is a farmer. He hasn’t filed a tax return for four years and now they’re breathing down his neck.”

“Good God! Well, well done. Shoot.”

I outlined my plan of action to a bemused Stephen and opened the door to call the brothers back in. “Shall I put Mr Bill Abraham on? I’ve told him you will be able to give him a special rate, in the light of our relationship with his brother’s firm.” I smiled at Bill and offered him my phone.

“Nice smell,” he said as he took it from me. “Hello?”

A second passed and then his expression changed. He went at first a deadly white, then red. “I’ll put my brother on,” he said. He turned on me. “If that’s your idea of a special rate, you’re one expensive lady, Lady.”

He strode about the room looking angrier and angrier. At last Ray replaced the receiver.

“You don’t have any choice,” he said. “If you hadn’t made such an almighty horlicks of everything, you wouldn’t…”

“I know, I know. I get the message, but it’s still daylight robbery!”

“Have a bit of consideration for Mrs Powell’s feelings, will you? Hopefully she’ll be able to create some order out of your chaos and get your finances on a better footing. Then it’s up to you. You should be damned glad she’s here. This is a top firm and just what you need. I for one don’t envy her having to sort out your mess.”

I had often encountered clients whose books were in a state and who, when given the bad news, became angry. In my experience it usually concealed the fact that they were feeling frightened, so I smiled again at Bill, in what I hoped was a re-assuring manner.

Ignoring his brother, Ray spoke to me. “Families, eh? As it’s nearly five o’clock, shall we convene here tomorrow? Are you staying at the usual place?” I nodded. He seemed happy for the first time since I got there.

“I’m sorry if the fee seems high. I don’t have anything to do with setting the rates.”

“Of course, you don’t, my dear. I understand that, even if he doesn’t.” He looked sternly at Bill, who glared back at both of us.

I decided that when I got back to the hotel I would make a start on the work on my laptop. At least it’ll keep my mind off the disaster area back home, I thought. If I finish the work early, I’ll ask Stephen if I can take some time off then I can stay here a bit longer. Wish I could stay forever. Wouldn’t it be nice to work here? But whatever he says, hopefully I won’t get back to London until at least Sunday night.

I was feeling spooked by the thought of having to return eventually to the room where the attack took place, especially as I had to pretend nothing happened there. The less time I’m there on my own the better, I thought.