Peter Lovesey - Upon A Dark Night

‘Pippa, darling, what are friends for, if we can’t stand by you at a time like this?’ put in Keith’s wife. ‘It could have happened to any of us.’

Rose turned away. She hadn’t listened to the last exchange.

She wasn’t interested in how Pippa made peace with her husband. The painstaking process of reconstruction, from Mrs Thornton to Percy the car-dealer, to the Dunkley-Browns, had crashed with that devastating phrase: ‘You came out of nowhere.’

On Westbury station, Ada found the chocolate-bar machine and subjected it to a series of expert thumps.

When seated with the resulting heap of Cadbury’s bars in her lap, she remarked to Rose, ‘I wouldn’t want to be Pippa when he gets her home.’

Rose hadn’t given a thought to Pippa. Her mind was occupied trying once more to find a way out of her predicament.

Ada chuckled a little and said, ‘While her old man was refusing to admit to anything, she was singing like the three tenors.’

‘It wasn’t like that,’ said Rose, snapping out of her thoughts and turning to face her.

‘Get away. Have some choc.’

‘She didn’t set out to tell me anything. It was only because her friends started winding her up, hinting that her husband was having an affair.’

‘Which he very likely is,’ said Ada. ‘And she very likely knows it.’

‘How do you work that out?’

Ada answered with conviction, ‘They must have got horribly close to the truth. Much more of it, and she would have cracked, and all her friends would know she couldn’t hang on to her decrepit old goat of a husband. Bloody humiliating for a woman as pretty as Pippa.’

‘Maybe. But instead she told them how he knocked me down and failed to report an accident. That’s worse than humiliation. That’s a crime, Ada.’

‘That crowd are boozers themselves, petal. They won’t shop him.’

All of this rang true, but none of it helped Rose. ‘I’m not much further on, am I? We now discover that I wandered onto a main road and was lucky not to be killed. What was I doing there?’

Ada ripped open another bar of chocolate. ‘Buggered if I know. If that’s the stretch I’m thinking of, it’s desolate up there.’

‘Really?’

‘No trees, no houses, nothing.’

‘Ada, I’m going to have to go there and see the place for myself.’

‘What use is that?’

‘I want to find out what I was doing there.’

Ada’s flesh rippled with amusement. ‘A date with a little green man?’

‘Get serious, will you?’ said Rose. ‘It could spark off a memory.’

‘Shut up and eat some chocolate.’

‘I’ve really got to go there.’

‘Tomorrow, petal. Tonight you move into your new place on Wellsway. Remember?’

First, they returned to Harmer House to collect Rose’s few possessions, automatically quickening their steps on approaching the line of parked cars outside. This time they reached the front door without incident. ‘You don’t have to help me with the move,’ Rose said as they started up the creaking stairs. ‘You’ve given up so much of your time already, and I’m really grateful, but I can do this by myself.’

‘Try and keep me away,’ said Ada.

Rose thanked her.

Ada said, ‘Don’t get ideas. I want to see if it’s a better drum than this.’

Rose knew it wasn’t in Ada’s nature to admit to being helpful. ‘I’ve really enjoyed your company. I don’t know how you feel about keeping in touch. I’d like to stay friends if you would.’

They went up four or five more stairs before Ada reacted.

‘Give me a five.’

‘What?’ said Rose.

‘Your hand.’

‘Oh.’ She held out her palm and Ada slapped hers against it in agreement.

‘Whatever, wherever.’

‘Whatever, wherever,’ repeated Rose.

Ada stopped suddenly and lowered her voice. ‘Can you hear anything? I think there’s someone in our room.’

Rose listened. Without question there were voices coming from the bedroom. ‘It sounds like Imogen.’

‘At this time?’

They crept to the top. The door had been left ajar. Rose was right. Imogen’s well-bred drawl was coming through clearly. The other voice was female also.

Rose looked at Ada, who shrugged.

They pushed the door wide and stepped in.

‘Goodness, you surprised us,’ said Imogen.

Ada, close behind Rose, said, ‘Can’t think why. Believe it or not, this is our room, ducky.’

‘Yes, it’s an intrusion. I’m sorry, but there was nowhere else to wait,’ said Imogen. ‘And something very special…’

… was interrupted by something very unexpected. The other woman opened her arms wide, said, ‘Darling, where have you been?’ and stepped forward to embrace Rose in a hug that squeezed a high note out of her like a Scottish piper starting up.

Ada cried out, ‘Watch it – she’s busted her ribs.’

The woman released Rose. ‘Oh, my God, I had no idea.’

Actually the discomfort was mild, for the pressure had been cushioned by a substantial bosom. The woman was sturdy, though sylphlike compared to Ada. She was about Rose’s age or younger, with fine brown hair, worn in a ponytail. Her get-up was strangely chosen for visiting a hostel for the homeless. She looked as if she had spent the last hour having a make-over in a department store. She was in a white silk blouse that hung loose over black leggings. An expensive-looking coat was draped over a chair-back.

Imogen said, ‘This is your sister Doreen. Don’t you recognise her?’

Rose felt as if lightning had struck. ‘My Sister?’

‘Stepsister, to be accurate,’ said the woman. ‘Roz, it’s me.’ She took one of Rose’s hands and clasped it between both of hers. ‘It’s all over, love. I’ve come to take you home.’

Pulses buzzed in Rose’s head and none of them made any helpful connections. She took a step away, releasing her hand.

Imogen said, ‘When Miss Jenkins called the office, I just had to bring her here. I know it’s late and obviously we’ve taken you by surprise.’

Rose said flatly, ‘I don’t know her.’

‘You don’t recognise her,’ Imogen corrected her. ‘You don’t recognise her because you still haven’t got your memory back.’

‘But if she’s my own sister…’

‘It doesn’t mean that your memory will suddenly switch on.’ She turned to the woman. ‘You’ll have to make allowances, I’m afraid. It’s like a shutter in her brain. She can’t see anything behind it.’

Rose went white with anger. Imogen had no right to discuss her as if she were some dead laboratory animal pinned out for dissection. She was intelligent, for God’s sake. She could hear what was being said.

Before she opened her mouth to object, Ada said, ‘The point is, we can’t be too careful. Yesterday, some gorilla claimed to know Rose and then tried to force her into a car. I was there. We both had to fight to get away.’

Imogen quickly said, ‘It’s all right, Ada. There’s no question of any deception here. Miss Jenkins has satisfied me that she’s Rose’s sister. She has proof. Photos.’

Doreen Jenkins picked her handbag off the back of a chair, unzipped it and opened a pigskin wallet. And she had enough tact to address Rose directly. ‘Here’s one of you with Mummy in the garden at Twickenham.’ She handed across a standard-size colour print of two women arm in arm in front of a lavender bush.

Rose had to steady the photo from shaking in her hand. Here was a large, smiling middle-aged woman in a print dress. The other was younger, slimmer, dark-haired, with the face she saw in mirrors, the face she had learned to accept as her own. Sharply focused and in a good light, the likeness couldn’t be dismissed. ‘This is me with my mother?’ she said, frowning.