Tess Evans - Book of Lost Threads

The other diners looked on with interest as she swaggered out of the restaurant. What on earth are those two nice young people doing with someone like that? I’m sure I saw them give her money. Buying cocaine or ecstasy, maybe? And the remainder of their meal was piquant with the sauce of speculation.

‘Lefroy,’ said Moss as they drove away. ‘There can’t be many Lefroys in Adelaide. How would you spell it?’

‘L-e-f-r-o-y? Or it could be two words, L-e F-r-o-y.’

‘Or “i” instead of “y”. No, probably not.’

‘She mightn’t have changed her name. Or she could be divorced. What was her maiden name again?’

‘Watson. There’d be a few more of those.’

As soon as they returned to Moss’s house, they went online and searched the telephone directory.

‘Adelaide has three Lefroys and one Le Froy,’ said Moss. ‘Let’s see: there’s one I. Lefroy . And a B . What do you think?’

‘Write them all down,’ said Hamish. ‘And Moss, let’s think this through before we go making the calls.’ He could see her excitement at their success so far was in danger of propelling them into precipitate action. ‘We don’t want to scare her off.’

Moss nodded impatiently. Hamish was always so cautious. She was aware that she often acted impetuously, but surely here her impatience was understandable. Acutely conscious of the fact that she had left reconciliation with Linsey too late, she was desperate to settle the matter of Amber-Lee. She delicately scrolled her fingers around the little gold treble clef. So much thought had gone into her father’s gift. Well, she decided, she wouldn’t let him down.

Hamish helped her to plan what she would say. They decided to contact I. Lefroy first. He turned out to be an elderly man called Ian. He told them that he did have a younger cousin called Ivan who may have married a Brenda, but they’d lost touch years ago.

‘There were rumours that she was a working girl.’ He sniggered. ‘Just like Ivan to do something like that. I heard he dumped her soon after they moved to Christies Beach. Not sure where he went. Took the kids, as far as I know. Anyway, my wife wouldn’t have anything to do with them, so I didn’t either. Suited me fine.’

‘Let’s hope “B” is for Brenda,’ Hamish said as Moss dialled the next number.

The voice that answered was thick with smoke. ‘Brenda here.’ The woman gave a chesty cough.

Moss began her prepared spiel but Brenda cut her off. ‘Yeah, Damara told me you might ring.’

So Damara had been in touch with Brenda all along , Moss thought crossly. ‘Are you willing to talk to us?’

‘Two hundred an hour,’ she said promptly, clearly having been schooled by Damara. ‘And a nice meal.’ Easiest money ever , Brenda thought, reaching for the cigarette packet that was never far out of reach. She absentmindedly stroked her jaw. It still ached in a cold wind. She remembered the day she first saw the inexperienced Amber-Lee working the streets. Not a bad-looking kid. Very young, though. She looked like a schoolgirl in spite of the heavy makeup. Brenda still had a heart in those days, and she almost advised the girl to cut her losses and go to the Ward Street Shelter. But Vince had sent her to recruit this newcomer, so what could she do? The more girls Vince had, the less likely he was to pay her special attention. At least, that’s what she’d thought then. She drew on her cigarette and mused on their separate fates. Sometimes she wondered whether Amber-Lee was better off where she was.

Moss ended the call after making a time and date to meet in Adelaide. ‘Will you have time to come with me, Hamish?’

Hamish once again felt the burden of the responsibility he had taken on. Moss was becoming increasingly reliant on him. He could try to back out, plead study commitments. But when Moss had her heart set on something, he found her hard to resist . Besides, he rather liked the way she relied on him for advice. Companionship too, he hoped. He was confident that she enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers. He shrugged his shoulders and accepted the inevitable. ‘Okay, Moss. As long as it’s no more than two or three days.’

‘You’re a star, Hamish. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

Hamish and Moss arrived in Adelaide two days later. ‘I’ve booked us into the Grosvenor,’ Moss said as they boarded the airport bus. ‘We have adjoining rooms.’

Hamish felt a stab of rejection. He’d expected them to share a room. There was no particular reason for this expectation other than his wish that it were so. He and Moss had been getting on so well and he thought that this trip might be the catalyst that would move them to the next level. Still, he reminded himself, the rooms were adjoining…

After dinner, they stopped in the corridor outside Moss’s door. It’s now or never , thought Hamish as he leaned forward to kiss her lips. To his chagrin, he found himself offered her cheek.

‘See you in the morning, Hamish,’ she said, returning his kiss with a comradely peck. ‘Remember we’re meeting Brenda at twelve thirty.’ She looked at him gratefully. ‘You really are a mate, Hamish.’

Not quite in the sense I’d hoped , Hamish thought peevishly as he unlocked his door. A mate! It wasn’t much fun being Mr Nice Guy. Did he have a sign on him saying, Buddy/Mate/Pal? A sign that only women could read? He glared at himself in the mirror, brushing his teeth with unusual vigour. Women always called on him when they needed something-a tap washer repaired, a partner for a special occasion, a shoulder to cry on after a break-up… He was everyone’s ideal friend, and apparently nobody’s ideal lover. He went to bed feeling very badly done by.

Brenda was a full head taller than Moss, with spiky red hair and a pale, pinched face. She was nervous and twitchy, her restless hands moving the pepper mill, the cutlery, her water glass; twisting her bracelet, smoothing her sleeves and folding and refolding her napkin until Hamish felt quite dizzy.

Moss came straight to the point. ‘As you know, we need information, anything you know about a girl called Amber-Lee.’

‘I told the police all I knew at the time,’ replied Brenda, eyes narrowing. ‘But I might have something you’d be interested in. What would you say to a photograph of Amber-Lee’s family?’

Moss leaned forward, eyes gleaming. ‘Go on.’

I hope Moss never plays poker , Hamish thought. He was in a more sanguine mood this morning.

The other woman saw she had the upper hand. ‘I told Vince-he was her pimp-I told him where she hid her things, and he just tipped everything onto the bed. He took the money and left the other bits and pieces. He wanted her stash, but I didn’t know where it was. He beat me up real bad, the fucking bastard. I’d of told him if I knew. Anyway, I don’t know why, but when he left, I took the photo and stuffed it in my bra. That was just before the police arrived, so they didn’t know anything about it.’

‘Why didn’t you give it to the police?’ asked Moss.

‘Why should I help them? Anyway, if I told them I had that, they would’ve thought I took her other stuff.’

‘And did you?’ Hamish felt the need to assert some authority.

‘You a cop or something?’ Brenda scowled. ‘If you must know, all I got was a couple of fucking T-shirts and a poxy dress.’

‘The photo,’ Moss persisted. ‘Do you still have the photo?’

‘Yeah. As a matter of fact I do. Thought I might take it back some day or something. Then Damara said they might charge me- withholding evidence or obstructing the course of justice… ’ Her exaggerated vowels mocked all poncy lawyers.