Tara (72 page)

'Then I found his wallet and passport with a gun.' She caught hold of his arm, her face contorted with grief. 'I just know he's dead, Josh. I had to get out of there and the only way was out of the top window. It was awful.'

Josh came round the table and knelt in front of her, wiping her eyes.

'Why did you go there? It was so silly,' he said gently. 'You could have been killed yourself climbing down from that roof, and suppose you'd set off the burglar alarm?'

'You don't believe he's dead, do you?' Tara turned big, sorrowful eyes on him.

Josh shook his head. 'You'll hate me if I tell you what I really think,' he said.

'No I won't! Tell me.'

He looked reluctant, but Tara insisted.

'I think he's into something big.' Josh shrugged his shoulders. 'It's probably drugs. I reckon he's just gambled on one big job that will set him up for life.'

'He wouldn't do that,' she cried. 'He promised me he was over all that. Someone has kidnapped him and now they've killed him!'

'Oh, Tara.' Josh took her hands and gently rubbed them in his. 'He's rung people, he's been in and out of his flat. I know it's painful for you to think he's less than perfect but he's just like all of us, lured by easy money.'

'But his wallet and passport!'

'He's been back to the club and left them there,' said Josh. 'Maybe he's even got a forged passport! You need a body before you can say someone's murdered, and as I see it we haven't got one piece of evidence to suggest anything's happened to him.'

'But I can't just sit and wait,' she cried out angrily. 'I have to know what's happened.'

'OK.' Josh got up, spread his hands wide in a gesture of giving in. 'I go down the nick and say Harry Collins has gone missing. They ask me how I know. I say his girl says he hasn't phoned her.'

'You're taking the mickey!' she said angrily. 'I heard Duke talking yesterday afternoon and he said something about a signal on Friday, about training and men being cooped up. Don't you think that's suspicious?'

'I'm not taking the mickey.' He put his hand on her head and ruffled her damp hair. 'I'm only trying to show you how they'll see this. What you heard could be something quite innocent. The police will go steaming into the club, just because they hope something has happened to him. But what will they find? The staff will tell them he's phoned several times, been back to his flat. What are they going to think, darling?' He looked quizzically at her.

"That Harry's avoiding me.' Her eyes dropped from his in utter dejection. 'And what you're trying to say is that, if I go making waves, I might blow the whole thing up.'

'I think that's it in a nutshell.' Josh rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'Well, I've got to get ready for work, darling. Have a shave and stuff. Why don't you get into my bed and have a snooze?'

Tara nodded, too exhausted for more argument. 'I'll just get my things out of your car and put them in a bucket of water
to
soak.' She got up and walked towards the garage door.

'The utility room's the other door,' Josh called as he went into the bathroom. 'You'll find a bucket there. I'll put them all in the washing machine later if you just rinse out the worst.'

The smell made her gag as she lifted her clothes out of the car. She dropped them to the floor hastily and went off to get a bucket of water. Sweater first, then her plimsolls and the canvas bag. Finally her jeans, but just as she was about to put them in, too, she remembered the list of telephone numbers in the pocket. She tossed the damp folded paper on to the front seat of the car then shoved the stinking jeans into the soapy water.

Tara came back out of the utility room a few minutes later. She'd sluiced the clothes through and left them to soak in clean water. As she leaned over the front seat to retrieve the list of numbers, she noticed a small piece of paper tucked down the back of the seat.

It was just a parking ticket, the sort you got in any car-park. It must have blown off the dashboard and lodged there. But it jolted her because it was like the one she'd found in Harry's office. She bent down to examine it, fully expecting it to be from Chelsea municipal car-park, but it wasn't.

A shudder ran down her spine. She closed her eyes and then looked again, sure she'd made a mistake. But it was no mistake. The ticket said Lympne airport. Fear rushed through her veins like a shot of poison. Her mouth went dry and her legs started shaking uncontrollably.

'You're taking your time,' Josh called out. 'Or have you dropped off out there?'

Anger pushed back the fear, and she opened her mouth to roar out some abuse, but stifled it in the nick of time. There might be a good explanation, but she needed time to think this thing through. With trembling hands she picked up the ticket, grabbed the folded list from the boot and shoved them both into her pocket.

'Is there something the matter?' Josh asked as she came back in. He was standing at the sink, washing the breakfast things, singularly unconcerned.

She was aware she was still shaking; she was clammy with sweat, suspicion ate at her innards.

'No, nothing.' She shook her head. 'Just exhausted.'

'Off you go to bed then.' He patted her bottom towards his room. 'We'll talk when I get home later. Maybe you should go home for a bit, have a holiday. Ring your mum if you want to.'

Tara lay in Josh's big bed listening to him getting ready in the bathroom next door. He was in a hurry to get out, or was that her imagination?

His bedroom was done up like a high-class brothel, with dark red wallpaper, a mirror on the ceiling and huge erotic Indian paintings. She hadn't been a bit surprised the first time she saw it, it was as characteristic of him as his gold medallion. But now, as daylight came in the windows, it took on a decadent/kinky note that made her unease even worse.

Could he be involved? What were the odds on finding two tickets for the same obscure place within hours of one another? But what motive could Josh have? Nothing sprang to mind other than simple jealousy, but surely a man like Josh, with the world at his feet, couldn't feel jealous of Harry?

'I wish I could stay with you.' Josh came into the bedroom and smiled down at her. 'But it's an important meeting, I'm afraid. Help yourself to anything. I'll be home around five-thirty.'

'Thank you for everything.' She deliberately let her eyelids droop so she couldn't be expected to talk more.

'Sleep tight,' he said and left, shutting the door behind him.

Sleep was the last thing on her mind. She wanted to believe there was a simple explanation to that ticket, yet in her heart she knew there wasn't. What a fool she'd been, blurting everything out to him. Maybe it was even things she'd said to Josh in the past that had helped this plot along?

Tara waited till his car left the garage, then she sat up and pulled out the parking tickets. They were identical, only the dates were different. Tara counted back on her fingers.

'Last Friday,' she said thoughtfully. 'He said he was going to Birmingham for the day. So where is this place?'

Wearing only Josh's shirt she padded into his lounge and looked along the bookshelves. Right at the bottom she found a road map.

'Lympne, Kent,' Tara muttered. '4 D, page 29.'

There it was, a tiny little place which seemed to have no significant feature other than its airport, about four or five miles from Hythe, nine or ten from Folkestone, around a mile from the coast. Yet as Tara stared at the map, the place name and its position seemed strangely familiar. Had someone told her something about this village?

Why would both Duke and Josh use an obscure airport? If they were catching a plane to France or Germany it would take longer to drive there than the actual flight. Could they be picking something up from there?

But if there was an innocent explanation, why had Josh said he was going to Birmingham?

She sat on the settee for a moment, the map on her knees. Then she went over to Josh's desk, hoping it might shed some light on the question. It was a Chinese lacquered one and she'd been with him when he bought it in Chelsea antiques market. It was a year ago and she'd been staggered to think anyone would spend eight hundred pounds on a whim. Lifting down the writing flap, she began to search it.

The first thing she found was a small bag of white powder, tucked in with a lump of cannabis. She had no idea whether it was heroin or cocaine, and right now she didn't care. A whole clump of letters were held together with a bulldog clip. At first she put them to one side, but out of the corner of her eye she saw 'Final Notice' stamped on the top one.

Taking the bundle over to the settee, she flicked through them. Every one was a final demand, some for small amounts from mills and knitwear companies, but there was a demand from the Inland Revenue for eight thousand pounds, another for the rates of another two thousand, and the mortgage on this house was almost a year in arrears, with the threat of repossession.

'So you're up to your ears in debt,' she whispered. 'How on earth were you intending to pay for the alterations to the shop?'

She put the papers back where she found them and continued her search. There was nothing else to interest her, certainly nothing to explain what he was doing in Kent last week.

Opening the doors on to the balcony she leaned her arms on the wrought iron and looked thoughtfully down into the garden below, wondering what to do next.

Josh said he rarely went out there, yet the initial effort he'd put into it by planting so many shrubs had paid off. They climbed the walls and drifted over one another, creating a beautiful jungle effect. A statue of a nude woman stood in one corner, a purple clematis clambering over her; even a little white wooden bench had been taken over by a clump of marguerites.

As she looked at the statue it seemed to be telling her something, but she didn't know what. Why would a statue have any significance? Wasn't she just tired and getting her thoughts jumbled up?

'Phone Mum,' she said wearily. 'Perhaps you'd better go home for a few days.'

Mum! It was as if a door flicked open in her mind. Her mother had told her a story about statues, but what was it?

Tara sat down on the settee, a cup of coffee beside her, and rang Greg's number. There was no reply so she tried the farm. It rang for some time before her mother answered, panting as if she'd been running.

'Is there something the matter?' she said immediately. 'Aren't you at work? This is a funny time to be calling.'

'I've got the day off, I'm feeling a bit poorly.' Tara already felt irritated. Why couldn't Amy just say what a lovely surprise it was instead of wondering how much it cost? 'I was just thinking I could do with a bit of a holiday, but I didn't want to come and get in your way.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' Amy snapped. 'You wouldn't get in the way.'

'Well, don't try to sound too welcoming,' Tara said indignantly. 'Perhaps I'd better ring off and try again another day?'

'I'm sorry.' Amy's voice changed immediately. 'I didn't mean it that way. It's just I seem to be on the go all the time at the moment. You know how the farm is in the summer, so much more work, and what with the wedding plans –.'

'Well, maybe I could take some of the chores off your hands,' Tara said.

Suddenly she really wanted to be there, to put on a pair of shorts and a suntop, to be out weeding the garden or hoeing the vegetable patch.

'Is everything all right with Harry?'

'He's fine. We just aren't seeing much of each other nowadays,' Tara said airily. 'Josh is expanding in a different direction and he wants me to design for it. But I'll tell you all about that when I come down.'

'That sounds very exciting, darling.' Amy's voice rose in pleasure. 'But I'm sorry about Harry!'

'Just one of those things.' Tara forced herself to laugh lightly. 'By the way, Mum, did you ever tell me something about a statue?'

'A statue?' Amy sounded bewildered. 'What sort?'

'I don't know,' Tara said, feeling a little foolish. 'I just saw one in a garden and I got this feeling of
déjà vu.
It seemed to be connected in some way with you.'

Her mother was silent for a moment. "There were statues in a garden once, a place your father took me to. I expect I told you about that.'

Goose-pimples came up on Tara's arms. 'Where was it?' she asked.

'Oh, in Kent somewhere.' Amy sounded a little impatient. 'Not far from Folkestone.'

'Was this place special or anything?' she asked, shreds of memory coming back thick and fast.

'It's the place you were conceived.' Amy's voice sounded slightly embarrassed. 'My seventeenth birthday. Bill took me there for the day out. We spent the day in the garden of a lovely old house. No-one lived there, you see, it was just lying empty.'

'What was it called, the house?' Tara asked. A sick feeling was growing inside her.

'Port Lympne,' Amy said. 'Your dad found it when he was stationed at Shorncliffe barracks near Folkestone. It was tucked away in woods, overlooking the marshes. It was his special place.'

It was all she could do not to bang the phone down right away and run for the door, though somehow she made general conversation, about the farm, the wedding and Greg. Yet all the time she was imagining that house in the woods and Harry lying there, dead.

'Look, Mum, I will come on down to see you if that's OK, but I'm going to stop off in Reading to see a friend first, so I'm not sure when I'll be with you. I'll phone when I'm on my way.'

Wording a note for Josh was difficult. She didn't want him checking up and she needed to reassure him she had come to terms with Harry walking out on her. She sat sucking on a pen for some time before she found the right words.

'Dearest Josh, I felt odd here so I got a taxi back to my place, then I'm going to make tracks for Somerset and home. I need time and space to think about what I'm going to do with the rest of my life and who I'm going to do it with. I can't thank you enough for helping me, for making me see the truth at last. I'll ring you in a few days when I've got my head together again. Love, Tara.'