Finding Jennifer Jones (19 page)

She felt herself shrink down in the chair. The air in the cafe was heavy; the pungency of the traffic had forced its way in. Her head seem to loll on her neck as if she had no control over it. She put her palm up to her forehead to hold it firm. Thinking about those days was always dangerous. She
had
to live in the present. She
was
Becky Andrews.

She paid her bill and walked away from Archway station. Using her A–Z she looked at the street names and found the one she wanted. It was almost seven. She was still feeling a little shaken when she rang the bell at the house. The front door opened instantly.

“Hi, you Becky?” a girl said.

Kate nodded.

“Come in. I’m Petra. I’ve just this minute got in from work. Come through to the kitchen. I’ll get you a drink. Tea? Coffee? Cold drink?”

“Some water would be nice,” Kate said, stepping past two bikes that were lined up in the hall.

Petra was wearing shorts and ankle-length canvas boots. Over the top she had a silky jacket that looked way too big for her. Her hair was cropped and she had a number of hoop earrings in one ear.

Kate sat at a table in the kitchen. At first glance the place made her heart sink. It was messy. The table had small piles of papers and magazines and some stacked dishes that were clean but hadn’t been put away. The work surfaces had foodstuffs sitting out, cereal packets and jars of jam and peanut butter. There was a pile of unwashed breakfast plates waiting by the side of the sink. Kate felt her stomach turn slightly at the sight of it. Petra got a glass from a cupboard and reached across the mess to fill it with water.

“It’s not that tidy a house,” she said as if reading Kate’s mind. “But everyone’s really friendly.”

She put the glass on the table. “I’ll show you my room in a minute. Thing about this house is that it’s big. Seven bedrooms, a kitchen, living room, two bathrooms and an extra toilet out in the garden, would you believe! It’s owned by Greg, this ex-student who’s fiftyish and has been working on this PhD on Samuel Beckett for about twenty years. This is how he supports himself. There are actually nine people who live here because two of the rooms are rented by couples. So it’s a big place and some of us come and go. We stay here for a while and then go off travelling and if there’s a free room when we come back we return. Like, last year? I was in California for six months. When I came back one of the lads was leaving to go to Australia for a year so I took his room.”

Kate nodded, her eyes wandering round the room and taking in the mess that was everywhere. Petra watched her as she did.

“Kind of explains why things are a bit chaotic down here. But it suits the people who live here. We can pay our rent weekly if we like and Greg is pretty understanding about money. If you’re looking for a home from home this probably
isn’t
the best place to come and stay. If you’re looking for a short stay and you don’t mind a bit of mess this is OK. There’s always the chance that when I come back someone else will be travelling off somewhere and you might have their room. That’s if the place hasn’t driven you mad by then. The other really good thing about it is that it’s cheap. In relation to London prices, that is.”

Kate started to relax. She was beginning to realise that this would be a perfect place for her. People coming and going. No time for anyone to start asking her any questions.

“What’s your story, Becky? Why are you looking for a short let?”

“I’ve just deferred my university course for a year. I was in a relationship but that ended and I wanted a break from the guy. I thought I’d spend a bit of time in London. See if I like it.”

“That’s funny. I had a boyfriend like that. I left him in Hoddeston. Where you from originally?”

“Norwich.”

“I thought there was a bit of an accent there. Where were you at university?”

“Exeter.”

Kate was brief and to the point. She didn’t elaborate in case it sounded as though she was trying to persuade someone of the truth of her story.

“Come up to my room. I’m on the top floor.”

She followed Petra up the winding stairs. There were boxes on each landing with names scrawled on them in felt tip. Some of the doors of the rooms were open and she could hear music or voices coming out. At one door Petra stopped and banged on it.

“Brian, washing up. It’s your turn.”

A mumbled voice came back and they headed up the stairs to the top floor.

Petra took a Chubb key from her pocket and opened her room door.

“I like my room locked.”

It was a contrast to what she’d seen downstairs. It was spacious and had a bay window. There was a double bed and a huge wardrobe and chest of drawers.

“That wardrobe and chest of drawers will be full of my stuff; clothes, books, bedding, general belongings. So your stuff will have go somewhere else. My advice is to buy a rail and some storage boxes. There’s room enough for them. What do you think?”

“It’s OK. It’s good.”

“Look, it won’t kill me if I don’t sublet it, but if I do it gives me a bit of extra cash.”

“I want it,” Kate said.

“Great! You said you had references?”

“Sure.”

Kate got her references out of her bag and handed them to Petra. “They’re photocopies.”

“That’s all right. I can keep these? Show them to Greg?”

“Of course.”

“OK. I’ll ring you when I’ve spoken to him. Then I need a deposit. A couple of hundred quid and say two weeks’ rent in advance. How’s that?”

“That’s fine.”

“OK, I’ll be in touch.”

“As soon as you can? I’d be grateful. Otherwise I need to go see some other places.”

“I’ll let you know tomorrow. I’ll email.”

Kate walked away from the house feeling positive. This could work. She could use Petra’s room and maybe, when Petra came back, she might be able to get another. She got on the tube, thinking about the practicalities. It would take a chunk out of her money but first thing the next day she would go back to the job agency and give them her new phone number. If Petra said she could have the room she could easily get a rail and some boxes. She had very little luggage so wouldn’t need a lot.

It was short term. It would give her a place to breathe.

All she had to do was wait and see what answer Petra gave her.

She got back to Finsbury Park. She bought some fruit juice and bananas and headed back to the B&B. When she got in she could see that the mobile phone had charged. She found Lucy Bussell’s letter and keyed her number into the phone. She sent a message.

I’m in London and you said in your letter to come and see you. Could we meet? I’m staying in a B&B at Finsbury Park. We could maybe have a pizza or something? Are you busy tomorrow lunchtime? Kate

She pressed the
send
button.

Then she locked her room door and got undressed. She put the television on and flicked around the channels. A few moments later she heard a beep. She looked the screen.

Hi Kate! What a surprise! I have some stuff to do tomorrow but could meet you about three? How about the café in Finsbury Park. Lucy

She replied agreeing and saying that she was looking forward to it. As soon as she put the phone down on the bed she felt apprehensive. To meet Lucy again after all this time seemed a
mad
thing to do.

Not more mad than running away and making a new life for herself though.

The next morning Kate visited the employment agency that she’d registered with. She was offered the chance of a job straight away.

“Telephone sales,” the man in the agency said. “I sent them your forms and they’re very interested. Minimum wage, six-hour shifts. Some in the evenings. They give you one hour’s training and start asap?”

“I’ll take it,” she said. “What do I have to do? Go for an interview?”

“Telephone interview. Sit over at that desk and I’ll get them to ring you shortly. You might be able to start tomorrow.”

Kate sat for a few minutes and when the phone rang she snatched up the receiver.

“Rebecca Andrews?” a voice said.

She answered with a cringe of guilt. She was pretending to be Jimmy’s old girlfriend. What would he think if he ever found out? The interview took no more than ten minutes but it went well. She replaced the telephone and spoke to the man at the desk.

“I start tomorrow at ten.”

“Well done.”

His words were half-hearted as if he didn’t care one way or another. He took a drink from a Dr Who mug and turned back to his computer. She noticed, at the corner of the desk, a Dalek pen holder.

She headed for the internet café. She bought a coffee and waited a few minutes for a free computer. She went on the news website for Exmouth and double clicked on the site with some apprehension. She half expected to see herself as headline news: Convicted Child Killer Goes Missing. It was a ridiculous expectation because everyone she knew thought she was on a two-week holiday to Exmoor. It would be another ten days or so before anyone realised that she was actually gone. Her eyes scanned the page anyway. There was an item about the Jodie Mills murder.

Caravan Park Recruits Extra Security Staff

In an effort to allay the fears of families extra security personnel have been taken on at Sandy Bay for the remaining days of the high season. A spokesman said, “While we recognise that visitor numbers will be dropping with the end of holiday season we still feel it’s important to increase levels of security in the bay and surrounding area. All efforts will be made to make holidaymakers feel safe.”

There was also an item about the bank holiday weekend.

Sunshine Brings Visitors to Exmouth

Visitor Numbers Break New Records:
Exmouth saw visitors streaming into the town at the weekend enjoying the festivities and soaking up the fine weather. Town Councillor Mark Williams said, “We are particularly pleased with the innovative use of the docks as a music venue. It attracted younger holidaymakers. It’s important that Exmouth caters for all ages.” The councillor added, “We are of course mindful of the recent tragedy at Sandy Bay.”

Kate sat back. She missed being at Exmouth. She’d only been gone a couple of days but it was the knowledge she was never going back that was hitting her. In just under two weeks’ time it would become official. Kate Rickman, aka Jennifer Jones, had left for good. She wondered whether it would make the press. Every other thing that had happened to her had found its way into a newspaper. There was no reason why this would be any different. She closed the Exmouth website and then accessed her emails and found one from Petra.

Becky, you can have the room. Bring the deposit and rent around on Thursday night. You can move in on Saturday. Petra

She sat back and smiled. She had a job and a room.

And this afternoon she was going to see Lucy Bussell.

Things were looking up.

Twenty-six

Kate was late getting to the café at Finsbury Park. She’d been trying on clothes to see what looked best. She didn’t have many things with her but she was unsure what to wear. She wanted to appear relaxed and natural and yet she was feeling neither of these things. Lucy Bussell was a sixteen-year-old girl who’d just finished her GCSEs. Kate wasn’t much older but she felt as if she belonged to a different generation.

She decided on some skinny jeans and a loose top. She looked at herself critically in the mirror. At some point, when it came to using the passport to get a bank account, she would have to cut her hair, just so that she looked more like the photo of Rebecca Andrews. But for now it was still long and straggly. She gathered it together at the back of her neck and pinned it up. She put some lipstick on. Then moments later, after frowning at herself, she got a tissue and wiped it off.

She was being ridiculous. It was a meeting with a girl she hadn’t seen for a long time. It wasn’t a
date
. She delved into her rucksack and pulled out the book by Sara Wright she’d brought from Exmouth, put it into her bag and left.

Lucy Bussell was already there when she arrived. Kate saw her straight away, sitting on her own at a table by the window. The only other people in the cafe were a couple of mums and toddlers. Lucy was staring at her phone and was deep in thought. It gave Kate a chance to look her over. She was slight but her hair was big, probably moussed so that it was full on top. She was wearing deep red lipstick which made her skin look pale, almost white. She had on a denim jacket over a short skirt. She suddenly looked up as if she knew someone was scrutinising her. She frowned a little uncertainly. Kate smiled and walked towards her.

“Lucy,” she said. “Sorry I’m a bit late.”

“No, I’m early. Stevie dropped me off on his way to work.”

Kate took the chair opposite. Lucy sat up straight and looked a little shy. With her fingers she pulled at strands of her hair at the front. There were two cans of Coke on the table and unused glasses.

“I got you a drink,” she said.

“Thanks, that’s nice of you.”

“I hope you like Coke?”

“I do. Thank you.”

Kate picked a can up and pulled the metal ring back. She poured it slowly, tilting the glass to the side. Then she took a mouthful. Lucy hadn’t touched hers yet. She looked sheepishly at Kate. There was an awkward silence and eventually Lucy picked up her Coke and edged the ring pull back and sipped straight from the can.

“They’re bad for you, really. Sugary drinks…” Lucy said, between sips.

“Are you sure you didn’t mind me sending you that letter?” Kate said, more abruptly than she meant to.

“No, course not…”

“I was worried that it might have upset you.”

‘No. I was
surprised
. I mean, I haven’t thought about all that stuff for a long time. I told you that in my letter and then to hear from you out of the blue…”

“I accidentally discovered your address – it’s a long story – but once I’d got it and had the opportunity to make contact it seemed the right thing to do. It seemed to be something I
had
to do.”