Helen Douglas: Chasing Stars

Miranda rubbed her eyes. ‘No.’

Lauren held out a photo of Ben – the leader from Ryan’s original mission. ‘Do either of you know who this is?’

‘Let me have a look,’ said Miranda, reaching for the photo. She shook her head slowly. ‘Never seen him before. Perhaps he’s one of Travis’s employees?’

‘What about you?’ Lauren asked, holding the photo to me.

I tried to think quickly. Ben’s cover story had been that he was Ryan’s father, an American scientist who had relocated to Penpol Cove to write a book. In reality he had been the mission leader on an assignment to 2012 to prevent my friend, Connor, from discovering a planet.

‘I don’t recognise him,’ I said, handing the photo back.

Lauren passed a small card to Miranda. ‘Do you know what this is?’

‘It’s a passenger ticket to the Isles of Scilly,’ she replied.

‘Where is that?’

‘Just off the coast of Cornwall,’ said Miranda. ‘This is a return ticket to the islands on the Scillonion , the ferry that sails between Penzance and the islands. Funny, I never knew Travis had been there.’

‘Did my brother leave anything at your house?’

‘He spent most of his time at my place during the last few months,’ said Miranda. ‘But it’s strange. There’s almost nothing of his in the house. I have his pyjamas and a toothbrush, half a pack of the cigarettes he smoked and some spare socks. But no photos or anything that really reminds me of him. It’s as though he never existed.’

Lauren nodded. ‘That sounds like Travis.’ She pursed her lips. ‘What is the name and address of the undertaker who has my brother’s body?’

‘Wakfer and Williams. They’re the only undertaker in Perran. Located on Bread Street.’

Lauren nodded and began to walk away. She stopped halfway across the road and turned back to us, smoothing her hair with one hand. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

Ryan opened the farmhouse door before I knocked and closed it quickly behind me.

‘Were you followed?’ he asked.

‘Nice to see you too,’ I said. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Stay against the wall.’

Warily, he peered through the glass of the front. It hadn’t even occurred to me that Lauren might follow me. A frown creased his forehead and I realised his calmness on the phone earlier had been an act. He was dressed in his boots and jacket and a backpack leant against the wall. He was ready to leave.

‘She never asked about you,’ I said. ‘Didn’t even mention your name.’

‘Good. Come in, I think we’re OK.’ He put his arm around my waist and led me into the kitchen.

And then I remembered the photograph.

‘There was a photo of Ben at Travis’s place,’ I said. ‘She asked if we knew who it was. We both said no. Do you think that means anything?’

‘I don’t think so. But I can’t take any risks. If she’s here for me, this is one of the first places she’ll look. I’m going to need to disappear for a few days. Until I’m sure she’s gone.’

‘Where will you go?’

He shrugged. ‘Away from here. Just until the weekend. If she’s here to clean up Travis, she’ll only need a couple of days. If she’s still here next week, then I’ll know I’m in trouble.’

I walked to the sink and poured myself a glass of water. It wasn’t fair. I’d only just got him back and now he was going to leave again.

‘I’ll be all alone,’ I said. ‘Miranda is going to Bath to stay with a friend.’

I didn’t tell him that the thought of being the only one around with Lauren in the area terrified me. There had been something detached and robotic about her. Travis, although he was a psychopathic killer, had at least shown signs of humanity from time to time. But Lauren had no warmth. I smiled to myself.

‘What’s funny?’ asked Ryan.

‘I was just thinking that at least the man who tried to kill me could make me laugh occasionally. Whereas this Lauren woman just creeps me out,’ I said. ‘There must be something seriously wrong with me – clocking up Travis’s good points.’

Ryan came up behind me and slipped his arms around my waist. He nuzzled my neck; my skin prickled and my pulse accelerated. I still wasn’t used to this.

‘She’s a cleaner,’ he said. ‘She’s not here to make friends.’

I turned around in his arms. ‘Now it sounds like you’re defending her.’

He shook his head. ‘When is Miranda going away?’

‘Tomorrow morning.’

A smile appeared in the corner of his mouth. ‘So she won’t miss you if you come away with me?’

‘I like what you’re suggesting,’ I said. ‘Have you anywhere in mind?’

He ran a hand through his hair. ‘What I’d really like to do is whisk you away to a deserted island. But right now I don’t have a passport. Or a whole lot of money.’

‘What about all those credit cards?’

‘I was on an official time mission back then. The credit cards were supplied to me. And of course they’re totally traceable. If I used a credit card now, they’d be on to me in no time.’

‘You spent all that time in the future and you didn’t memorise winning lottery numbers?’

‘Lottery winners attract publicity. I need to keep a low profile.’

‘I have some savings,’ I said.

‘I have enough to cover a few days away.’ He slipped his hand back around my waist. ‘We just need to decide on a place to go.’

I had a sudden flash of inspiration. ‘Hang on a second. I know just the place. It won’t be tropical temperatures, but it has deserted islands, beautiful beaches and doesn’t require a passport.’

The woman at the reception desk smiled apologetically. ‘It’s almost impossible to get a room here in the summer without a reservation.’

‘Oh,’ I said, feeling foolish. Had I really dragged Ryan across twenty-five miles of stomach-churning sea to the Isles of Scilly just so we could turn around and make the same journey back home that afternoon?

‘Do you know of anywhere else on the island that might have a space?’ asked Ryan.

The woman pressed her lips together tightly and looked at us in turn. ‘I might be able to sort you out a room. But I warn you, it’s not really ready for letting. We only finished painting it yesterday. You’ll need to keep the windows open until dark or you’ll suffocate on the fumes.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ said Ryan. ‘We just need a room for a couple of nights.’

The woman gave us a look. ‘It is a double room.’

I looked at the floor.

‘Double is fine,’ said Ryan.

‘And the name is?’

Ryan and I looked at each other. He couldn’t risk using the name Westland.

‘Shall we book it under my name?’ I asked.

‘I’ll need both names.’

‘Right,’ said Ryan. He hesitated.

The woman cocked her eyebrows. ‘Will it be Mr and Mrs Smith?’

‘Yes,’ said Ryan. ‘Mr and Mrs Smith.’

We followed the woman as she led us to a room at the back of the guest house.

‘The air should be clearer by this evening,’ she said, as she unlocked the door and stood aside to let us enter.

The room was simply furnished with two wooden bedside tables, an armchair, and a large double bed made up with crisp, white bedding. I looked quickly away from the bed and focused instead on the doors that looked out on to a small enclosed patio with views of the sea beyond.

‘This is perfect,’ said Ryan.

‘The bed is made up, but I’ll need to go and get you some towels,’ the woman told us. She strode across the room and opened the patio doors. ‘I’ll leave the doors open to clear the air. The room is perfectly secure. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.’