The Cold Light of Mourning (5 page)

“Right,” said Anne. “That’s it. You get off to the manicure shop to see if you can find out anything and I’m ringing Emyr.”

She reached for her mobile, looked to her friend for final approval, then punched in the numbers.

“Hello, it’s Anne here. I’d like to speak to Emyr, please. And tell him it’s urgent. Thank you.”

A moment later she heard Emyr’s calm voice.

“Hi, Anne. What’s up?”

“Emyr, is Meg Wynne with you? She’s not back from her manicure, she’s not answering her door or her mobile, and no one has seen her. Do you think she could have had an accident? We’re getting really worried that something’s happened. The hairdresser’s going to be here any minute and we can’t find her. Is she with you? Please say she’s with you.”

A heavy silence hung between them until finally Emyr said softly, “No, she isn’t here. I haven’t spoken to her since last night. Hang on. I’ll come over to the hotel. Should be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Okay,” said Anne. “We’ll meet you in the bar.”

She ended the call, turned to Jennifer, and told her Emyr was on his way.

“Come on, let’s get downstairs. I need to think this through and I’m desperate for coffee. I really need to get my head around this.”

On their way through the reception area they noticed a meticulously dressed man, with a large suitcase, sitting in the upholstered chair in front of the window. He caught their eye and waved them over.

“Hello. Are you Anne and Jennifer? I’m Alberto, the hairdresser come to do your hair. The receptionist has just told me there’s a delay. Not to worry. There’s plenty of time. I’ll just make myself comfortable here, and you can fetch me when you’re ready.”

“Oh, Alberto, thank you! We aren’t sure what’s happening, exactly, so we’ll get back to you as soon as we can. Thank you for being so cool,” Jennifer said. “So sorry about all this. There’s been a mix-up of some kind and we’re just trying to get it sorted.”

The girls left him under the watchful eye of Mrs. Geraint and Anne hurried into the lounge as Jennifer, with a hopeful wave, set off on the short walk to the Happy Hands manicure shop.

The lounge was empty and Anne chose a table just inside the entrance. A few minutes later she got up, went through to the dining room, and asked if three coffees could be delivered in about ten minutes. Sinking slowly back into her seat, she held her hands out in front of her and studied her nails. A moment later she jumped up, walked over to the window, and looked up and down the street.

As she was about to return to her seat, Mrs. Thompson, looking as drab as the baggy, camel-coloured trousers and loose beige top she was wearing, entered the lounge looking about her like a timid child who has crept fearfully downstairs after dark to see what the grown-ups are doing. Clearly very upset, she placed a hand on Anne’s arm, and looked up at her.

“What on earth could be holding her up?” she asked softly, her eyes wide with alarm. “Do you think something has happened to her?”

“Course not, Mrs. Thompson,” said Anne in what she hoped was a reassuringly light tone. “She’ll just have gone out for a pair of tights or something like that. You’ll see. She’ll be back any minute.”

Meg Wynne’s mother, who seemed diminished in the bright light from the tall windows, nodded and then, seeming to take comfort from Anne’s words, pulled herself together.

“I think I’ll just walk around the town for a bit and see if I can spot her,” she said. “After all, it’s not a very big place, is it, and she can’t have gone far.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Anne heartily. “And we’ll let you know just as soon we hear anything.”

Mrs. Thompson hesitated.

“I just feel I’d rather be doing something. I’m feeling so anxious just waiting around. And I don’t want to be alone in that room.”

More like she doesn’t want to be alone in the room when that drunken brute of a husband gets back, thought Anne. God, what a way to live.

Mrs. Thompson slipped out of the room as invisibly as she had entered it.

A few minutes later, Emyr arrived, looking mildly flustered, but in control. Anne stood up to hug him and before they could speak, a waiter arrived with a pot of coffee. As they sat down and prepared to pour it, Jennifer bounded into the room.

“You don’t need to tell me, Jennifer; I can tell from the look on your face,” Anne said.

Jennifer shook her head and swallowed. “I spoke to the manicurist. Meg Wynne arrived on time, had the manicure, left, and that’s all there was to it,” she said. “Good job I got there when I did, though. She was just closing for the afternoon.” Turning to Emyr, she continued, “We’re worried, Emyr. It’s simply not like her to disappear like this, without saying anything to anyone. You must see that.”

Emyr took a sip of coffee and gently placed the cup back on the saucer.

“Honestly, Jennifer, I think you’re overreacting. She could be anywhere, doing just about anything. It hasn’t been that long, has it?”

The two girls looked at each other, and then Anne put into words what each had been thinking.

“Emyr, was everything all right between the two of you last night? You didn’t have a row or anything, did you? I know it’s an awful thing to think, let alone ask, but do you think she could have changed her mind, and just, well, bolted? Done a runner?”

Emyr looked so startled and then, a look of such dismay flashed across his face, that Anne was almost sorry she had suggested it.

“No, honestly, everything was fine,” he said. “She wasn’t getting cold feet or anything like that. I’m as puzzled as you are by all this, but I think she’s just been delayed somewhere and she’ll be back any minute.

“So I think you two should carry on, get your hair done, and get dressed, or do whatever it is girls are supposed to do before a wedding, and we’ll all just go ahead with everything and stick to the plan. What else can we do?”

He looked from one to the other.

“David’s gone to sort out a problem with the buttonholes—they were supposed to have a Gruffydd ribbon on them and they didn’t so he’s over the road at the florist’s waiting while they put that right. Shouldn’t take too long.”

As he stood to leave, Anne pulled him back down into his chair.

“Emyr, we haven’t been in her room. I think you should get the key from the desk so we can take a look around. We didn’t want to go in until you got here. We need to check her room, just in case.”

“In case what?”

“Well, what if she’s fallen in the bath and hurt herself? Or we can see if her clothes are missing, or if it looks as if she’s coming back, or whatever. At least then we might be nearer to an answer. I’m just so confused by all this. It’s starting to seem so unreal, like it’s happening in a dream. Jennifer and I are concerned, and we want to do whatever needs to be done.”

Emyr looked from one to the other, and then stood up again.

“Okay, let’s go. We’ll get the key.”

They made their way to the front desk.

Mrs. Geraint looked up from her daybook and expecting what was coming, reached behind her for the key to Meg Wynne’s room.

“Under the circumstances, the manager will have to accompany you. Just let me ring through to his office.”

She picked up the telephone, and when the manager answered, spoke briefly.

“Mr. Burton, it’s the situation I told you about. They want access to her room.”

After a brief pause, she replaced the receiver, and nodded in the direction of the dining room door.

“He’ll be right out. It’s hotel policy that we would never give a key to a guest’s room unless a manager is present. I am sure you understand. It’s for your own protection, really.”

The three nodded and stepped back toward the stairs as the hotel manager entered the reception area.

He clasped his hands in front of his chest and gave a nervous chuckle.

“Good morning,” he said, glancing at the old-fashioned room key Mrs. Geraint handed him. “I hear you have some concerns that your friend hasn’t turned up. Let’s go on up and take a look, then, shall we?”

He led the way. Halfway up the stairs, the manager paused and turned to face them. His blue dress shirt, under a suit that needed pressing, was pulled tight across his stomach, anchored by protesting buttons.

“I’m sure she’ll turn up. What would a wedding be without a hitch or two?”

Six

A
s the little group reached the door of Meg Wynne’s room, the manager paused. Then, at a nod from Emyr, he knocked firmly on the door, and waited for a response. When there was none, he said in a loud, firm voice, “Hello, Ms. Thompson? It’s the manager here. Is everything all right? I am here with your fiancé and friends, and we’d like to come in.”

After again looking to Emyr, he placed the key in the lock, turned it slowly, and opened the door. Quietly, respectfully even, he entered the room and motioned for the others to follow.

The room looked as if it had been given a good tidy up. The duvet had been drawn up, the wastepaper basket was empty, the drawers and doors were closed, and everything seemed in order. A faintly floral fragrance hung in the air.

“Could she be in the loo?” Anne whispered.

The door was open, and a quick glance revealed that Meg Wynne was not there.

“It doesn’t look to me as if she left in a hurry,” Emyr said. “It looks as if she just stepped out for a moment, and will be back at any minute.”

“Neat and tidy, is she, then, your fiancée?” the manager asked. “Does this room look the way you’d expect her to leave it? I can check and see if the maid has been in, but it looks as if she has.”

Emyr nodded.

The level of tension in the room was almost unbearable. Finally, Anne looked toward the closet and taking a deep breath, suggested they look inside.

“We need to know if her clothes are here, or if it looks as if she’s gone. I’m sorry, Emyr, but we do need to know. You must see that.”

His face betraying no sign of emotion, Emyr nodded.

“I’ll do it.”

Grasping the glass doorknob, he pulled the door open, then leaned forward for a closer look as the two girls crowded in behind him.

“I think it’s all here, but you look,” he said as he stepped to one side.

Anne and Jennifer peered in. There was Meg’s gown from last night, a business suit, a couple of jackets and blouses, three pairs of jeans and in a plastic wardrobe bag, her wedding dress. Shoe boxes lay neatly lined up on the floor along with a little pile of running gear.

“The clothes she brought with her seem to be there,” said Anne thoughtfully, “and she’s already moved some into the Hall. I don’t know what she was wearing this morning, I don’t know everything she brought with her, but it all looks okay. The thing is, though, what about the jewellery?”

She turned to the manager.

“Meg Wynne had some beautiful pieces with her. We brought a couple of boxes down ourselves last night,” she said. “Do you know if others were placed with you for safekeeping?”

“We were given a few boxes,” he replied, “but of course I wouldn’t know what was in them. Mrs. Geraint gave Ms. Thompson a receipt for them, and as far as I know, they’re still in the safe.”

The group looked at one another in silence as Emyr sank down on the edge of the bed.

“Well,” he said, “she isn’t here now, and I have no idea what’s going on, or what to do. What time is it, anyway?”

Anne glanced at her watch. “It’s getting on for one.”

Emyr sighed.

“I think what we should do, all we can do, really, is carry on. We can’t call it off. What if she came back only to find we’d given up on her? That would be …” The uncompleted sentence hung in the air.

He stood up and walked over to the dresser where Meg Wynne had left a few toiletries. He picked up her favourite perfume, gently removed the cap, and after a moment’s hesitation, closed his eyes and held the bottle to his nose.

Anne and Jennifer moved at the same time toward him.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Go downstairs and get the hairdresser. Let’s do it. We’ve got people driving in from England all the way to Wales, and everything’s all arranged. Come on, you’ve got to get ready.”

With one last look around, the friends filed out, leaving the manager to pull the door quietly shut behind them.

“Emyr,” said Anne, turning to him when they were in the corridor, “I’m sorry, but I have to say this. I think we should ring around the hospitals. What if she’s been hurt?”

Emyr looked startled.

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll do it when I get home,” he said as they walked on. “In the meantime, go to your rooms and I’ll tell the hairdresser to go on up.”

Anne and Jennifer exchanged a quick glance, and Anne spoke for both of them.

“I’m moving my gear into Jennifer’s room. Tell the hairdresser to come to room two-oh-six. But give us ten minutes.”

Emyr nodded, and with the manager, headed in the direction of the stairs as Anne and Jennifer returned to their rooms.

A few minutes later Anne, laden with an armful of bags and clothes, pushed her way into Jennifer’s room, threw the clothes on the nearest bed, and sat down beside them.

“I’m really starting to get scared, Jenn. I’m beyond worried. It’s all seeming like a bad dream now, that I can’t wake up out of. It’s just going on and on.”

Jennifer looked thoughtfully at her.

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” Anne went on. “Is Emyr in complete and utter denial? Why would he not call the police? They might be able to help. That’s what they’re here for and they’re good at this kind of thing. They know what to do. We don’t. Or at least I don’t.”

Jennifer pushed the pile of clothes out of the way and sat down beside her friend.

“I know, Anne. I feel the same. But we’ve got to do this, like Emyr says. I don’t think we have a choice. Look, let’s send down for some sandwiches, cold drinks, and fruit so at least we can have a bit of lunch. I’m not particularly hungry, but it’s something we should do. It’s like in those awful movies when things start to go wrong, and someone will say, ‘You have to keep your strength up,’ or,” and Anne joined in, ‘What you need is a nice cup of tea!’ ”

They smiled at each other, and then Anne reached for the telephone.

“I think there’s something in that,” she said. “Actually, I do fancy a nice cup of tea. Do us good. I’ll order one for the hair-dresser, too. What was his name, again?

“Alberto,” said Jennifer.

“Alberto,” laughed Anne. “In real life, he’s probably Benny from Birmingham and nobody took any notice of him until he went upmarket as Alberto.”

The brief burst of laughter had eased their tension and a few moments later when Alberto appeared, they were in better spirits and ready for him.

“We’ve ordered up tea for you,” Anne told him, “and lunch for all of us. I know you’ve been kept waiting and you must be famished. Who do you want to do first?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter to me, dear girl,” he said. “What are you wearing in your hair? Any flowers, clips, bandeau, fascinator, diadem, tiaras, hats, or anything like that?

“God, no,” said Anne. “Just hair, that’s all. We want it just like it is, only better.”

Alberto laid out his kit on a towel and went to work wetting down her blunt-cut hair, so he could style it. He was a rather burly man, with a neatly trimmed beard and long eyebrow hairs that gave him the look of a startled artist. He caught some strands of her hair between his index and middle fingers and examined them closely.

“So what’s happened to your friend, then?” he asked. “Any news?”

“No,” replied Jennifer. “No news. Have you ever heard of this happening before?

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” Alberto replied. “Not the bride just up and disappearing, although I did have a bride cancel the wedding at the last minute, once. It was terrible. One of the bridesmaids had heard from the best man, who thought it absolutely hilarious, that the groom had had it off with some tart the night before, and she decided to tell the bride all about it. Thought she would want to know. The poor woman was hysterical, as you can imagine, and said she couldn’t marry the man because if he would do that on the night before they got wed, how could she trust him after they were married?”

As Alberto reached for his hair dryer, a knock on the door signalled the arrival of tea and sandwiches. While he looked around for the nearest electrical outlet, Jennifer opened the door, brought in the tray, and set it down on the dresser. With his hair dryer in one hand and styling brush in the other, he added shape and volume to Anne’s hair as he continued his story.

“I’ve often thought about that whole scenario. Would it have happened if the groom hadn’t been drunk? Did the bridesmaid do right to tell the bride? I think so. If it had been me, I would have wanted to know. Should the bride have called off the wedding? I think it took a lot of courage to do that. There’s the whole issue of everything already paid for, and what people will say.”

Anne and Jennifer were silent, lost in their thoughts.

“You know, I could murder for a cup of tea. Why don’t we take a break now and we’ll sort out Jennifer in a few minutes. Shall I be mother?”

Alberto poured the tea, handed it around, helped himself to several sandwiches, and then gingerly lowered himself into the most comfortable chair in the room.

“What happened to that bride afterward?” asked Anne.

“I don’t know,” said Alberto. “If she changed her mind and married the bloke later, or if she married someone else, I wasn’t invited back to do her hair a second time. The really interesting thing was, she made up her mind to call it off when I was only halfway finished with her, and told me to get my hands off her head and leave her alone. So I did, and she spent the rest of the day with only half her hair done. It was the strangest thing. Made her look very wild.”

“She must have been past caring,” said Anne.

“Oh, she was that, all right,” agreed Alberto. “At least about the hair.”

Twenty minutes later Jennifer’s hair was done and Alberto was packing up his things and getting ready to leave.

“Look,” he said, “I’m sure your friend will turn up, but I’ve got other appointments booked, and I need to move on. Here’s my card so just call me on my mobile if you want me to come back later to see to her. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind a call later anyway, telling me what this is all about.”

The girls thanked him and showed him out.

“Well,” said Anne, “I’ll leave a message for Meg Wynne downstairs with reception and on her room phone that we’re waiting here for her.”

She closed the door behind her, leaving Jennifer contemplating the little bowl of fruit.