Dark Eyes of London (10 page)

Chapter Twenty

Tom woke just before six.  He rubbed his eyes, and looked around, becoming conscious of the fact he was in a strange bed. After a moment he realised whose bed it was, and what he was doing there. He looked for Amy on the other side of the bed, but he was alone.  He could hear her in the kitchen.

Getting out of the bed, he wandered, scratching the back of his head, into the kitchen. Amy was sitting in the kitchen, drinking a cup of tea. She looked up at him.

‘Didn’t want to wake you,’ she said softly.

‘You didn’t,’ he replied, running his hand through his unkempt hair. ‘How long have you been up for?’

‘About twenty minutes.  Want some tea?’

‘Yes, please,’ he said, resting on the other kitchen stool.

‘Have you thought about it yet?’ she asked, as she made his tea.

‘Thought about what?’

‘You were going to sleep on things, and decide what we should do next. At least, that’s what you said last night.’

Tom coughed, and rubbed his stubbly chin. ‘Yes, I did, didn’t I?’ 

‘Why don’t we both go back to work as normal, and meet up tonight to discuss next steps?’ she suggested.

‘Yes,’ he replied, nodding. ‘We don’t have too much time now before work, and there may be more events today.’

‘Events? What do you mean?’ she asked, concerned.

‘I just mean - well, something might happen, someone might say something, that could affect what we do next.’

He looked up at her. ‘You are okay about going back to work today?  After bumping into that Fleming guy yesterday, I mean.’

‘Sure. Nothing’s going to happen to me in an office full of people, is it?’

‘Guess not,’ said Tom, standing up and finishing his tea. ‘Look, I’ll get off back home now. Quite a trip by tube, and I’ll need to shower, shave and change then get to work by nine. Will you be okay?’

‘Sure. I’ll be fine. Just keep your mobile on, okay?’

‘Absolutely.’

Tom wandered into the bathroom, then back to the sofa where he gathered up his clothes. He quickly dressed, including his overcoat, and picked up the blanket and sheets Amy gave him the night before.

‘Leave those,’ she called out from the kitchen.

‘Fine,’ he said, dropped them on the sofa and went to the front door. He stopped with his hand on the lock, and turned back to Amy.

‘See you tonight, then,’ he said. ‘Take care now.’

‘I will.’

He looked over at the bay windows. Amy had already opened the curtains.

‘You shouldn’t have done that, by the way,’ he said.

‘Done what?’

‘Opened the curtains.’

‘But it’s morning.’

‘It’s still dark, though.’

She had a puzzled look on her face.

‘It’s just something I read once; might have been in a movie, even. People perceive this time of day as morning, even though it’s still dark. They draw the curtains as soon as they get home at night, but think nothing of walking about half naked with the curtains open seven or eight hours later.’

‘Right. Never thought of it that way.’

‘Just a thought.  Later. Thanks for the tea.’

Tom shut the door behind him. Amy wandered over to the window and looked down at the street. She could just make out Tom get to the street, and then hurry along to the High Road. She drew the curtains closed and went to take a shower.

*****

Tom got back home just after seven. He had plenty of time to shower, shave, have breakfast and be ready to leave for work at his normal time of eight thirty. As he got out of the shower, a text message came through on his mobile.

It was Amy:
4got 2 say tnx.cu 2nite x

He replied:
No problem. Take care today.

As he was making his way downstairs from his floor at eight twenty-five, he was met halfway by a small Chinese man wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt and white trousers, totally inappropriately for the weather.

‘Ah, Tom, just in time I see,’ said Mr Chin, Tom’s landlord.

‘Mr Chin, I was just on my way to work.’

‘I thought you might be.  I just wanted to catch you before you left,’ said Mr Chin.

‘Oh yes?’ enquired Tom, as they both walked down the stairs together.

‘I need to ask you a favour. Only a small one.’

‘Go on,’ said Tom. Now they were both standing on the pavement outside the block. Tom was cold even with his overcoat on; Chin must have been frozen but showed no sign.

‘You know the couple upstairs - Smith and Moffat - have gone?’ said Chin.

‘Yes, I know.  Mrs da Costa told me.’

‘Well,’ Chin continued. ‘I’m trying to get new tenants as soon as possible, but I have to go up to Liverpool for a few days - until the weekend. Can I give you a key to the flat, so you can show round any prospective tenants?’

‘Yes, but I am at work all day, you know.’

‘I know, I know, but they probably will be too. Only for a few days, please.’

Tom sighed.  This was all he needed. ‘Oh yes, all right,’ he agreed.

‘Much obliged,’ Chin said, passing Tom a Yale key. ‘I’ll give my wife your number. Then if anybody calls in response to the ad...’

Tom nodded and put the key into his back pocket. ‘No problem,’ he said resignedly.

‘I owe you one,’ Chin called out as he hurried to the silver Vectra double parked on the other side of the road.

‘Maybe a discount on the rent,’ Tom called out.

Chin just waved from the Vectra and drove off. Obviously he hadn’t heard Tom.

Tom set off for work. Fifteen minutes’ walk later, after a stop off for a
Daily Mail
, he arrived at the library.  He was on the office rota for the enquiries desk that day, far more interesting than managing those infernal self-service kiosks. He made sure his mobile was securely attached to his belt.  He checked the charge level: yes, four bars. No word yet from Amy. He sat down, logged on his workstation, and waited for the first enquiry.

He jumped when a text message arrived. Slightly flustered, he fumbled to get the phone, and saw that the message was from Jane.

Hi tom, jst chckin u r ok? Jane

He quickly sent a reply to the effect that he was okay, and that he was at work, but hoped she and Sully were okay too.

The text from Amy arrived five minutes later.

4got 2 say tnx 4 bein gentleman lst nite x

Smiling, he replied:
And thank you for being a lady. Later
.

*****

Amy sent that text as she was riding up the escalator at the tube station. It wasn’t until she was sitting on the tube train that she realised how out of character she had been last night. She barely knew Tom, yet she invited him to stay over and share her bed, trusting him not to try anything on. Which he didn’t. 

She had done something similar a few years back.  Having only moved into her flat a few weeks earlier, she had had a flat warming party for a dozen or so friends and fellow students from the college she was attending. When the party finished around two, one of the students, a spotty little nerd in thick glasses, was too drunk to even walk home, so she let him sleep on the sofa. Four o’clock and she awoke to find him fast asleep next to her. Against her better judgement, and because he was fast asleep and she was dog tired, she decided to do nothing about it. At five thirty, she was awakened by him pawing at her.  Still slightly under the influence of what she had been drinking the night before, she went along with it. He was finished by five thirty-five. She instantly regretted it, and vowed never to let herself get into that position again. That vow had gone out of the window; as had the one never to travel on the tube again. It would have taken her over two hours by bus, with three changes.

Tom had restored her faith in chivalry; there
were
decent men out there.

*****

Having felt quite calm on her journey into work, Amy started to become a little nervous as she rode the lift up to the fifteenth floor. Two of her workmates were in the lift with her; they were both chatting animatedly about something that was on television the night before. Some police drama, Amy gathered;
God, if only they knew
.

The doors slid open at floor fifteen. The two other girls said goodbye to each other: one went to the left, to the canteen; the other walked with Amy to the ladies’ room.

‘Oh, well, here we go again,’ she said to Amy as they both took their coats off.

‘Another day, another dollar,’ Amy responded.

They both went to the bank of lockers, and each put their bags into their lockers. It was a rule at the firm that female staff kept their bags in these lockers. Amy could see no reason for this; the men kept their wallets in their jackets which they hung over their chairs.  Perhaps it was difficult to trip over a wallet.

‘Jesus Christ,’ muttered Claire, the other girl as she tried to push her bag into the already full locker. ‘Why can’t they make these bleeding things bigger? Or at least get us two?’

Amy smiled at Claire as she squeezed her bag in and pushed the door shut.

‘Don’t mind me,’ Claire said, as she went over to her desk. ‘This place gets to me sometimes.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ Amy agreed, looking at the bank of lockers. There was something that caught her eye about them. She counted: the bank was four lockers high, and two, four, six, eight along. That meant thirty-two: but there can’t be thirty-two women working here. The guys don’t use them. She shrugged, and walked over to her desk and logged on.

She had just enough time to get logged on and check for any emails when she heard her name being called out across the office. It was Gerald.

‘You ready for the team meeting, Miss Spicer?’ came Gerald’s sarcastic voice.

She looked up. ‘Coming,’ she called out, starting to get her folders together.

‘Let’s hope your reading skills have improved today,’ he retorted, laughing, and looking to a colleague to share the joke.

‘They have,’ Amy replied, giving Gerald a V sign behind her PC screen. She gathered up the folders, and threaded her way through the desks to the meeting room. All her team assembled in the room and sat down around the conference table, Gerald taking pride of place at the top of the table.

As they were about to start, there was a knock on the frosted glass door, and Carol, Sebastian Fleming’s PA, came in.

‘Sorry to interrupt your meeting, Gerald,’ she said. ‘Mr Fleming wants to see Amy Spicer.  Now.’

Gerald looked at Carol, then over to Amy, then shrugged. ‘Sure. No problem,’ he said, and then to Amy, ‘Go on, then.’

Amy stood up. She smiled at Carol and followed her. Now she was more than a little nervous. She could feel her hands shaking as she followed Carol down the corridor.  As they got to the management suite, Carol said, ‘Mr Fleming is on the phone right now. Have a seat over there.’ She pointed to a leather sofa opposite her desk.  Fleming’s office door was shut.  She perched uneasily on the corner of the sofa, her hands resting on her lap. She held them together to stop them shaking.  Why did he want to see her? Was it about their meeting in the archive room yesterday?  Or about her break-in last night? It was like being back at school, and waiting to see the headmistress.

‘Do you know what he wants?’ she asked Carol, her mouth dry.

‘Sorry, dear; no idea,’ said Carol, picking up a file and walking to Fleming’s office. She knocked on his door and went in. As she opened the door to go in, from where she was sitting, Amy could see part way into Fleming’s office. She could not see Fleming himself but the two chairs which stood the other side of his desk. She could see Ashley Merchant in her normal tweedy business suit, but the other figure.

It was not somebody she immediately recognised, but he seemed familiar. Dressed in a conservative dark suit, nothing out of the ordinary there, but there was something different about him...

It was his hair.  It was white. Not grey, or silver, but white. In fact it reminded her of a pet rabbit she had when she was a little girl. Her mother called it an albino rabbit. It had strange red eyes too.

She realised now why the figure had seemed familiar. When she met up with Tom in Hyde Park at the weekend, Tom disappeared into the gents for a minute. She went to stand by a tree the other side of the path and could see the toilet block from where she was standing. She remembered seeing a man - a man with a shock of white hair - follow Tom into the gents. In fact, they bumped into each other in the doorway.

This was one almighty big coincidence: this strange looking man happened to be in Hyde Park at the same time as them; now he happens to be sitting in Mr Fleming’s office.

She suddenly had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had no choice: she stood up to go. She paused: her bag! She had her locker key attached to the key fob on her belt. She walked away, backwards at first, her eyes on Fleming’s door and Carol’s desk.

She had got a dozen or two steps when Carol came out of Fleming’s office, closing the door behind.