The Flower Girls (14 page)

“I can’t even worry about that,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“Well I suppose I’d better find you a photo, if you’re so determined.”

She couldn’t stop the confession, even had she wanted to lie; it was impossible with those green eyes staring deeply into her own. “I already found a picture,” she said. “I’m sorry if you think I was rooting through your things but I—”

Incredibly he smiled. “Don’t ever use that expression in Australia,” he said. “Come here, I want to give you a hug.”

She went, falling into his arms. He smelled delicious, of all things good, pure, and wonderful. “But this time, I’m coming with you.”

Chapter 18

They decided to stay the night. When Poppy suggested staying at the hotel she’d stayed at, he turned her down. He had other ideas. And importantly, connections. Even though it was mid-week and lots of places were booked up, there was no problem finding them a room at a swanky hotel. It was the kind of place Jasmine would have loved, whereas Poppy felt a little overawed by it. The long, silent, thickly carpeted corridors, their room which was bigger than her apartment in Tampa. The silent luxury of a top class hotel, anonymous. She wondered if Jasmine had ever stayed here but decided not to broach that matter.

They took an early dinner at the hotel. The dining room was pleasant, the staff discreetly efficient. Glancing around, she saw a couple of people she recognized from the television.

Two men stopped at the table to chat with Seth. He introduced her by her name and didn’t say she was the sister of his late wife. From the conversation she gathered the men had worked on the same newspaper as Seth but they’d moved into the editorial side of broadcasting and television. They joked and laughed about mutual people but the men didn’t linger long at the table.

“Sorry about that,” Seth said.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” She played with the stem of her wine glass. “You were different when you were talking to them.”

“How so?”

“More laid back.”

“Am I tense all the time?”

“No, but you’re a little serious most of the time.”

“Is that surprising?”

She blushed. “No, of course not.”

He smiled to release the tension that was growing. “That’s an act, the real me
is
a tad serious. I never was into that newsroom bonhomie but I had to pretend I was. That’s why I liked being away from the paper and why I’m not sorry I escaped into my writer’s cubby hole.”

“I’m glad you did,” she admitted. “I like you just the way you are.”

“Ah, cue for a song I think…”

But it wasn’t a song but the waiter bringing their food that interrupted the banter.

* * * *

There was, this time, a gaggle of people hoping for admittance into the club. Poppy realized she’d been early last time, now it was getting on for eleven. They had walked or rather strolled to The Presidents and on the way had stopped for a coffee, which led to friendly banter and a holding of hands. Outside once more, in a dimly lighted street, he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her longingly.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since we arrived.”

“Why didn’t you?” she teased.

“Well, in the room I thought it might lead to other things and so I resisted. Once this business is over, then there’s time for a little…” He paused. “Shall I say romance?”

“Mm, sounds a nice description for what you have in mind.”

“You do
know
what I have in mind?”

“I think I do.” She closed her eyes for a second and he kissed her again; tenderly he ran his hands through her silky hair.

“Poppy,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Just Poppy.” He took her hand and they strolled on. It was a warm summer’s night, not quite dark, that wonderful dusk of midsummer.

Seth didn’t even bother negotiating with the door staff, he slipped something into the hand of the biggest bruiser and they were ushered in. Inside it was just the same, almost the same kind of people. Seth glanced around. “Rather pleasant,” he murmured.

They headed for the bar. The barman came, the same very good-looking one; he nodded at her as if he remembered her. Perhaps he did. Seth ordered drinks first and when he had brought them she asked if Sara was around.

“Sara? She left.”

* * * *

They sat at a table back from the bar. The music was louder than it had been when she’d arrived the first time. Again, it had been earlier. Now the place was filling up but with the same class of customer. Footballers, television people, businessmen. There were a couple of girls she recognized as having queued to get in. She could see why they were allowed in… Perfect arm candy for the men who hadn’t brought a girlfriend or wife.

“It’s odd she left. The barman said she had been here
forever—
his word.” Poppy felt the thought of Sara’s departure gnawing away at her. Had her swift departure been because of what she’d told Poppy? But she’d been very discrete—Poppy was certain that no one had observed them talking. She went through, in her head, the moments she’d stood outside with Sara. Sure cars had motored by in the street that crossed the alley. But it was dark in the alley and no one could have seen them. Even, as unlikely as it seemed, if they had been observed, no one would have suspected anything. Lots of people went outside to smoke. The no-smoking laws in public places had seen to that.

“It might be that she had a better offer. People in this trade move around.”

“Yes, I know, but the barman, the way he said
forever
, like she’d been here for a very long time. And she was nervous about talking to me. She implied the management didn’t like it, which is hardly surprising.”

“Mm, perfect place for an illicit rendezvous.”

“Well yes.”

“But there’s not a lot we can do; you only know she’s called Sara and that barman was not for telling me anything.”

Nervously Poppy reached for his hand, folding her own around it. “I’m sorry—you’re probably right—this is a wild goose chase. I was stupid to hang it all on Robert Donnington.”

“It was a far reach but…I don’t know.” Seth stroked his chin with his hand. “Sara might have been able to confirm it wasn’t him and that would have been fine. It’s this not knowing that’s going to cause you problems.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t want any of this to impact on your family. I just had this wild feeling.”

“You still have it?”

She looked up at him sadly. “Yes,” she admitted.

“Let me see what I can do. Would you like another drink?”

She shook her head.

He eased himself from the seat and she watched as he edged his way to the bar. It was quite busy now. There were two more staff on. Both girls, and both a lot younger than Sara. It could be that the owners wanted young girls, there might not be anything sinister in Sara’s departure, yet the gnawing persisted.

She saw Seth coming back to her. He carried a glass of something, then slid into the seat beside her. “No luck, I shoved money but he gave me a drink and change. The staff here are very well trained. They know how to keep their mouths shut, which makes me suspicious about Sara’s departure.”

“What did you ask him?”

“Just Sara’s second name, which would be enough to trace her. But no go.”

They were just about to leave when a waitress sidled up to their table. “Can I get you anything?” she asked. She was blonde, small and comely. Her short skirt showed a nice pair of legs encased in the same black net tights as Sara had worn.

Seth smiled at her. “No thanks, we’re going now.” She stooped, her neckline gaped a little but Seth looked away. She slid their used glasses onto her tray but before she’d finished she flicked a piece of rolled-up white paper in his direction. His hand shot out, he cupped the paper, went into the top pocket on his jacket and pulled out a ten-pound note.

“Thank you for your trouble,” he murmured, putting the note onto the girl’s tray.

“Thank you, sir.” She moved away, balancing the tray elegantly as she circled the throng of customers heading for the dance floor.

“Let’s get out of here,” Seth said, grabbing her hand.

There were plenty of crossing black cabs. Seth signaled one and they climbed in. In less than fifteen minutes they were back at their hotel. Seth held onto her hand, not speaking. She said nothing; her heart was going like an express train. Something important had happened. She knew that without even asking him a question.

* * * *

Once in their room he pulled the piece of paper from his pocket and straightened it out.

“Ah,” he said. “A phone number…a mobile.” He flicked back his cuff and checked his watch. “She probably
is
a night owl working in the bar trade, but it’s rather late. Can you wait to call her tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Poppy looked at the piece of paper in his hand. A long number, obviously as he suggested a mobile phone number. “I wonder which of the staff gave it to us.”

“Not the barman that’s for sure. I think one of the girls behind the bar; perhaps they didn’t like the way Sara was let go. Anyway, it’s something.”

“It’s everything.” She breathed deeply.

“How do you feel? You look pale.”

“I’m fine, a little surprised that you were so successful.” She smiled at him. “But then again perhaps not.”

“What do you mean?”

“A good-looking man making enquiries. If it was just a woman I doubt she would have made it so far.”

“You would. It had nothing to do with me but all to do with Sara and her leaving the club. Anyway, let’s leave it until tomorrow, what do you say?”

She checked the bedside clock. “I think you mean later today.”

He came to her, tugging her gently into his arms. “Poppy, what did you say to me earlier…what was it you wanted?”

A laugh breathed out of her. “I didn’t
exactly
say anything.”

“Shall I say hint then?”

“Mm, that’s a far, far better word.”

* * * *

They awoke late. She felt lazy and happy, snuggling against Seth. She’d never been so comfortable with a man before. There was something about him that made everything all right. It wasn’t something she was going to share with him though. Not yet anyway.

“We missed breakfast, let’s hit the town,” he said. “I know a great place for breakfast.”

It was a down-to-earth café, the kind she remembered from her youth. There was an aroma of good coffee and bacon. She opted for a bacon muffin; he went for the full Monty. The muffin when it came was filled with delicious slices of well-cooked bacon. When she bit into it she knew why he’d come here. Great food.

“I used to come here when I worked on the paper. Lots of us did. Sadly the paper’s gone; everything happens in London these days. Although it looks like it’s still popular with coppers.”

Four men sat at a table. She could have put two down for policemen, they had that air about them, but the other two looked a little too scruffy. Seth said they probably did undercover work.

When they’d eaten and finished their coffee they strolled out. Across the road was a small park. He urged her through the gate and then down to a bench away from other people. Taking out his phone, he keyed in the numbers. It was eleven-thirty, not too early to ring a night owl, he said.

Poppy thought perhaps she wasn’t in, the number seemed to be ringing out a long time.

“Ah,” he whispered. “Is that Sara? Fine, someone wants to speak with you, just a sec…”

He gave her the phone; she nervously flicked her tongue over her lips. “Sara, it’s Poppy, Jasmine’s sister, we talked…oh you remember me…what? But I don’t understand why…” She looked anxiously at Seth. “I’m so sorry; can I come and see you?”

She took some persuading; she wasn’t for seeing anyone. Poppy’s emotions were confused. Sorry for losing the woman her job of course but also eager to pursue the matter further.

In the end she looked helplessly at Seth; he took the phone from her.

“Look, Sara, we’re not asking for your help for nothing, believe me… I can make it worth your while. Really? Well that depends what you have to say but I’m talking about fifty quid in the interim…sure, I know it…” His free hand sought Poppy’s; he squeezed it tightly. When the call ended he said, “A student area, we can take a cab.”

The area was quite trendy, she saw. A lot of students and the kinds of shops that would attract them but there was a great atmosphere. Seth had the cab drop them off in the center of the village street. Seth hung onto her arm as they crossed the busy street and he walked with the purposefulness of a man who knew exactly where he was going.

“I lived around here for a time, when I was at Uni,” he said by way of explanation. “In fact just around the corner from where she lives.”

It was a detached Victorian house. There was a short driveway. On the large door were a number of bell pushes with names attached. Seth pressed the one for a Miss S Burton. The door swung open. They stepped into a large faintly musty hallway. A door to the left opened and Sara stood there. Without her club outfit on, she looked smaller and older, vulnerable even. Her complexion very pale, her hair tied back but not in a ponytail. The jeans she wore were soft from long use and the blouse, worn outside the waistband, had that well-washed lived-in look. The cotton had become a little saggy.

“You’d better come in,” she said.

The room was large with a huge fireplace. Rather old-fashioned but sparsely furnished. Beyond another door, which was open, Poppy noticed an unmade bed. It looked as if Sara needed money.

She didn’t offer them coffee or ask them to sit down. Seth stood by the fireplace. He looked at Poppy. She took from her handbag the picture of Robert Donnington.

“Sara, is this the man you saw with my sister?”

Sara took the photo; from her jeans pocket she produced a pair of spectacles, slipped them on and gave the photograph a long look.

She glanced from the photograph to Seth. He nodded as if reading her thoughts. Money.

She waited. From his back trouser pocket he took out a wad of notes. Poppy thought it was a lot of money to pay for something so simple.