Where I Found You (8 page)

‘I know how much you love that house of yours but maybe it’s for the best,’ Maggie offered, recognising that moving house wasn’t going to be as easy as Kathy made it sound. She lived on the outskirts of Sedgefield in the kind of house that was big enough to be split into apartments and had been a nurses’ home before Kathy took over the place. It was half-empty now that the kids had grown up and moved away but despite being careworn and high maintenance, was much loved and it would be a wrench for Kathy and her husband to leave it.

Maggie and Kathy’s soul-searching was drawn to a swift conclusion by the tinkle of the bell above the salon door as someone came in. Harvey, who had been sitting patiently next to Maggie, stood up and sniffed. He took in a lungful of hairspray-tainted air and quickly snorted it out before sitting back down. Maggie surmised that the person wasn’t someone he, and therefore she, knew particularly well. She stepped to one side as the stranger approached.

‘Afternoon, ladies,’ the man said. ‘Could you sign here for me please?’

A package had been placed on the counter and Kathy signed for the delivery. In a moment, the courier had disappeared but he had been enough of an interruption to remind the two women that they had work to do.

‘I suppose I’d better start setting up for my afternoon appointments. I’ve got two new clients today and the first is due any minute now,’ Maggie said. She had flipped up the cover on her tactile wristwatch and was horrified to discover how short of time she was. It wasn’t only meandering through the park that had made her late; she had lingered too long at home too. She and James had spent the weekend clearing out the spare room and that morning had been her first opportunity to get a feel for the place so she could start planning the theme for the nursery. Preparing for the future was still frightening, but she could either sink or swim and thanks to her recurring nightmare she had already chosen which.

‘Make sure you dry off first and I’ll let you know when Mrs Smith arrives.’

There was an inflection in Kathy’s tone and Maggie latched onto it. ‘Did you take the booking? Do you know anything about Mrs Smith? Is she pregnant by any chance?’

‘What is it about this Elsa woman that has you so obsessed?’

‘I’m not obsessed, I’m just concerned.’

Before Kathy could interrogate her further, the door jangled again. Harvey stood up and began to wag his tail furiously but it was the aroma of chamomile and cloves that gave away the identity of the salon’s latest arrival.

‘I didn’t expect to see you here on your day off. Is it a social call or have you chipped a fingernail?’ asked Maggie.

‘Neither,’ Jenny replied.

Maggie waited for her to explain further but Jenny was being reticent for a change. ‘Don’t tell me Mark’s getting his hair done,’ Maggie asked as she turned her attention to the person she heard soothing a grumbling Lily.

‘There’s no way I’m handing over my gorgeous husband to one of these vixens. No offence, Kathy.’

‘None taken,’ Kathy replied. ‘In fact, I think my girls would take it as a compliment.’

Mark cleared his throat to get their attention. ‘Actually, I’m on babysitting duties this afternoon.’

The growled response from Jenny was no doubt as he intended. ‘It’s not called babysitting when it’s your own daughter.’

‘You should be grateful he’s willing to help you out at all,’ interjected Kathy.

‘This joke is wearing very thin,’ Jenny warned.

‘Who was joking?’

‘Will you two stop teasing her,’ Maggie said before Jenny started hyperventilating. ‘Now is someone going to tell me what’s going on? If you’re here to see me then I’m afraid I can’t hang around. I need to get ready for Mrs Smith …’ Her voice trailed off as she finally recognised the deceit. ‘
You’re
Mrs Smith?’

‘I’m being treated to a day of pampering by my darling husband and that includes a relaxing massage.’

Maggie folded her arms and gave them a stern look. ‘So why go to the trouble of booking an appointment under a false name – and a pretty unimaginative one at that.’

‘I picked that,’ Kathy added curtly.

‘Did
you
know?’ Maggie asked, redirecting her glare at Kathy.

‘Jenny wanted you to treat her like any other client – or should I say, charge her like any other client. If it was left to you to manage your own business affairs, you’d have gone bankrupt in the first month.’

‘I’m not so busy or desperate that I can’t help out a friend now and again.’

‘Except half of your clients would end up being treated like friends if you had your way,’ Kathy insisted.

Maggie raised a hand in submission. In her own mind, she offered a therapeutic service to people in need which often made it difficult to see them simply as clients and it was undoubtedly Kathy’s business acumen that kept Maggie’s accounts in the black. What had started out as a simple agreement to provide space and reception services for Maggie’s business had quickly developed into Kathy becoming a not-so-silent partner. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in arguing?’

‘None,’ Jenny and Kathy said in unison. ‘Besides, it’s Mark’s treat.’

‘And it’s my pleasure. I don’t know how she manages to take care of us all but even with her boundless energy, she needs to recharge her batteries now and again.’

‘You work hard too,’ Jenny reminded him.

‘Ah, but I couldn’t do what you do. I’m only a man, not good at multitasking like you ladies.’

Maggie sensed Kathy preparing to stick her fingers down her throat so she jumped in to divert the conversation. ‘Mark, do you ever remember seeing any swans in Victoria Park?’ she asked. He was the only one of the group who had lived in Sedgefield all of his life.

‘No, I can’t say I have.’

Undeterred, Maggie tried another tack. ‘Ever heard of a shop in Sedgefield called Flo’s Fruit and Veg?’ She heard Kathy sigh; she had heard these questions before.

‘No.’

‘Not ever?’

‘Ah, has it got something to do with this ghost of yours?’ he asked.

Jenny nudged Mark so hard that he let out a short gasp. ‘You’re not allowed to use the “G” word.’

‘And that would be because I don’t think she
is
a ghost,’ interjected Maggie. ‘A restless soul, perhaps, but not a ghost.’

‘Really?’ Jenny asked. ‘So your next question isn’t going to be whether or not Mark has heard of anyone drowning in the lake?’

‘I’m only asking in case Elsa did do something silly. I’m worried about her and I wanted to know if the lake was deep enough, that’s all,’ Maggie said, hoping only she could hear the lie.

She couldn’t blame her friends’ gentle mockery. Away from the lake and the connection she had felt with Elsa, Maggie was finding it impossible to justify or explain why this relative stranger should occupy her mind so much or why she feared for her future.

‘It wouldn’t take much water if someone was determined enough to drown themselves,’ Mark offered helpfully.

‘Thanks, Mark,’ Maggie said. She had no desire to revisit the countless theories that had kept her mind turning and her stomach churning for the past few weeks, so she made a point of checking her watch again. ‘Now I’ll be late for my second appointment if we don’t get a move on.’

‘Then if you’ve finished with me, I’ll be on my way,’ Mark said and turned to leave.

Maggie may have begun to doubt her senses but in some respects, she was as sharp as ever. ‘Don’t you think you’re forgetting something, Mark?’ She had heard the footsteps that marked his retreat but not the telltale squeak of pram wheels.

‘Nice try,’ muttered Jenny.

‘And don’t forget to come back and pick your wife up,’ Maggie added. ‘Now, Mrs Smith, would you like to come this way?’

The treatment room had been designed to make the most of the limited space available. There was a massage table in the centre, a small table and chairs for consultations in one corner and shelving lined up along all the available wall space. Jenny was currently reclining in the treatment chair, which took up the last of the available space.

Maggie had begun with a head massage and there had been gratifying groans from her mystery client as she dug her fingers deep into her neck and scalp in wide, curving arcs. Together they had selected a relaxing mixture of bergamot, chamomile and neroli, taking account of Jenny’s preferences and needs.

The aromas had already worked their magic on Harvey who was snoring peacefully in his bed tucked away in a corner. Jenny was another challenge entirely: between groans her chatter had been incessant. She had been telling Maggie how the property market wasn’t picking up fast enough and that Mark’s boss was considering further redundancies. Rather than relaxing, Jenny was becoming more agitated, so when Maggie moved her to the table for a full body massage, she refused to start until her friend had taken a vow of silence. She called it tough love.

By the time all the knots in Jenny’s shoulders had been kneaded away, her groans had reduced to whimpers. ‘I’ll massage your feet next,’ Maggie whispered, ‘and then that’s it.’

‘It won’t tickle will it?’

‘Shush,’ Maggie instructed.

‘But you started talking first.’

‘Shush.’

Maggie had learnt different therapies over the years and reflexology had proven to be an effective technique for mind as well as body. It often evoked an intense and emotional reaction so when the first sob came, Maggie wasn’t as surprised as Jenny, who had been warned of the side effects but had been convinced she wouldn’t succumb.

‘It’s OK, Jen, don’t fight it. Let yourself go. I’m here to catch you.’

Jenny’s reply was unintelligible, little more than a mumbled snivel. Maggie guessed her friend was still trying to fight against the tide of her emotions but the next sob came nevertheless.

When the treatment was over, Maggie didn’t say a word as she poured a glass of water for her client who was weeping in loud, ragged gasps.

‘I … I … I’m just so scared. What if Mark loses his job? What if it’s me working all the hours God sends? What if I’m the one missing out on Lily growing up?’ Jenny stammered as she finished dressing and took the glass. ‘I don’t know if I could cope with that.’

‘Those “what ifs” haven’t happened yet but if they do you
will
cope. You have Mark and Lily and you have me too. You’re not on your own,’ Maggie said. She handed Jenny a tissue.

‘I feel like a gibbering wreck,’ her friend said with a hiccup.

Maggie gave her an enigmatic smile. ‘You look ready to face the world to me.’

Jenny laughed. ‘Thanks, Maggie.’

‘The boys are with us next week for half-term so I won’t be in the salon but I can still do home visits, armed with a bottle of massage oil or a bottle of wine; your choice.’

‘Wine sounds good,’ Jenny said. She was doing her best to sound upbeat but her voice trembled very slightly. She blew her nose. ‘I think I’m ready.’

‘You haven’t seen the bill yet,’ Maggie said, although she had already decided that if she was being forced to accept payment from a family whose financial future was in doubt, then it would be heavily discounted no matter how much Kathy protested.

Lily’s cries could be heard from outside the salon as soon as Maggie opened the door of the treatment room. More sobs erupted behind her. Mother and daughter were howling in stereo and the crescendo of wails was enough to wake up Harvey who hurried past them.

Maggie did her best to usher Jenny towards the exit without disturbing the other customers but it was an impossible task. Harvey didn’t have his harness on and she hadn’t thought to pick up her cane. Jenny’s floundering was getting them nowhere until Kathy came to the rescue.

‘You know, Maggie, we might need to invest in a rear entrance,’ Kathy said once they had handed Jenny over to a bemused Mark and promptly closed the door on them. ‘If your scowls earlier weren’t enough to frighten away our customers then that little performance certainly will.’

‘I think she means me,’ came a voice that was immediately recognisable.

‘Elsa?’

Jenny’s treatment oils had overpowered the scent of lilacs when Maggie had walked past the waiting area earlier but she could smell the perfume now.

The woman gave a throaty laugh. ‘People haven’t called me that for sixty years. Even the doctors know better than to use my proper name. I don’t care what’s written on your forms, you can call me either Mrs Milton or Elsie. I prefer Elsie.’

Maggie tried to swallow but her mouth was bone dry.

‘Are you all right, love?’ the old lady said. ‘You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.’

‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ Maggie managed.

‘I’m afraid my memory isn’t what it used to be. Should I?’

Maggie didn’t know what to say or think. Her mind had stalled and a shiver crawled down her spine. She wanted more than anything to tell this woman, who was undoubtedly in her twilight years, that they had met when Elsa was twenty-two-years old, alone and pregnant – not because Maggie believed it to be true but because she wanted it to be true. She had an irrational need for Elsa to remain within reach of her help.

‘Would you like me to wait while you get yourself ready?’ Elsie asked when Maggie still hadn’t responded.

‘You do look a bit pale,’ Kathy added.

Maggie insisted that she was fine but there was no fooling Kathy.

‘How about I make you some hot, sweet tea?’ Kathy asked. ‘Would you like one, Mrs Milton?’

‘That would be lovely. I’ll let my husband know what I’m up to first. I won’t be a minute.’

Mrs Milton headed for the small waiting area and Kathy lowered her voice to ask the burning question: ‘Mrs Milton is Elsa?
The
Elsa?’

‘Yes.’ There was no hesitation in Maggie’s reply but there was a note of puzzlement.

‘You do realise she’s in her eighties? I’m pretty sure that rules out the possibility of her being pregnant.’

‘I know,’ Maggie said as she tried to think back to when they had first met. The dated perfume and the gravelly voice were the clues Maggie should have used to build up the picture of an elderly woman despite the youthful lilt that had obviously been forced. Had Maggie been so eager to believe that Elsa was some kind of lost soul that she had ignored her instincts? How could she have been so foolish?