The Room on the Second Floor (14 page)

Not so Jasper, who pulled away from his hand and leapt joyfully up at Linda. She found herself knocked backwards against the door, which flew inwards with a bang, taking both of them inside. So much for Jasper calming down as the weeks went by. The door on the opposite side of the landing opened in alarm. An elderly lady peered out suspiciously through the links of the security chain. Catching sight of Roger’s scars and bruises, she instinctively stepped back. On her face was an expression of distaste, and a fair shot of fear.

‘Good evening, Mrs Trout,’ Linda was quick to pacify her neighbour. ‘My friend has just come to see me. I’m afraid the dog is a bit enthusiastic.’ To add support to her words, the dog jumped up at her from behind. She almost fell forwards over Roger, who was still crouched on the floor, where he had been trying to silence the dog a few seconds previously. ‘Come in, Roger. We mustn’t disturb the neighbours.’ She grabbed him and dragged him inside. She was very conscious that the old lady opposite was still glued to the scene, so she hastily closed the door behind them. Breathlessly, she turned round to face them both, her back to the door.

‘For God’s sake, Roger. I have only just moved in here and you come along making that awful racket. What will they think of me?’ Then, suddenly, as he stepped backwards into the light from the living room door, she saw the marks across his face. She wilted visibly. ‘Oh my God, what has happened to you?’ In the twinkling of an eye, the roles reversed. She became more concerned for his well-being, than he for hers.

‘I had an accident, but it’s nothing.’ He still needed to know that she was all right. ‘But what about you? They told me you were ill…’

A warm glow started to spread throughout her whole body. The fears and doubts of the last few days began to melt away. The concern on his face was as clear a declaration of love, as Cupid’s arrow to the heart.

She did not, however, intend to let him get away lightly. ‘I hope you haven’t been drinking this time,’ she spoke sternly. His already red face flushed, and his eyes fell. Her anger disappeared as quickly as it had flared up. Hurting him was just too easy. It made
her
feel bad. His eyes finally dared to reach up towards hers. She saw the relief as he registered her change in mood. He steeled himself to speak.

‘Linda.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Linda, dearest Linda, I am so terribly sorry. I never meant…’ His voice tailed off and she took pity on him. Reaching out, she took his hand and led him into the lounge. The lights of Toplingham sparkled in the early evening sky. Only a month or so till the shortest day, and it seemed to be grey and dark almost all the time. Particularly so over the last week.

His turned his eyes back to her. She looked more beautiful than ever. He took a deep breath and found the courage to do what he should have done months, years ago. ‘Linda, you mean everything to me. I have wanted to tell you for so long, but somehow I haven’t found the words. Not till now, anyway.’

She smiled, a feeling of overwhelming joy spreading throughout her whole body. ‘And the words are…?’

‘I love you, Linda. I love you dearly. I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you. Time and time again, I’ve tried to pluck up the courage to tell you. I suppose I’ve just been terrified you might not feel the same way.’

‘Oh, Roger.’ She found her eyes stinging. She wiped away a little tear. ‘Oh, Roger, how could you possibly think that?’ They stood helplessly looking at each other, unsure what to do or say next. Then Jasper came up behind Roger and gave him a hefty shove. That did the trick. Finally he was able to overcome his embarrassment once and for all. He reached out his arms and pulled her towards him. She did not resist, her breath caught. His lips met hers and, at long last, they kissed.

‘Duggie told me you were ill,’ he managed to say after a while. She had her arms round his neck by this time. She answered with a whisper in his ear.

‘And the illness, I am afraid, was you.’ He held her tighter and kissed her again. Jasper, satisfied by his matchmaking, strolled through to the bathroom and drank deeply and noisily out of the toilet bowl.

‘Oh, Jasper, for goodness sake.’

They chased him out into the kitchen, then sat down at the table and talked, sitting side by side, hand in hand. The dog pointedly ignored the bowl of water put down for his benefit, his thirst now quenched.

‘Tell me about the accident.’ She could tell from the bruising and cuts all over his face that it had been serious.

He told her what the police had said. ‘It seems it was a deliberate act of sabotage. The problem is to think of who might want to do such a thing.’

She was appalled. ‘Oh, Roger, what if it’s that Jennings man?’

He, too, had been thinking of the letter he had received from the solicitor. ‘Kevin Jennings, the son of old George Jennings, I know. I’ve been wondering that ever since I heard. But, surely, in this day and age, nobody outside of Sicily could still be carrying out a blood feud or vendetta?’

She reached across and touched his damaged face ever so tenderly. ‘You are so terribly precious to me, Roger, dear Roger. I dare not think about life without you.’ The tears were back in her eyes again. ‘We must do something.’ Her eyes begged him to come up with a solution, and he did just that. In fact, it was very simple and, the more he thought about it, the rosier it appeared.

‘We’ll go on holiday.’ She sat up. ‘Right away from here. Somewhere nobody would think of looking for us.’ Even in this moment of crisis, she could not resist a gentle jibe at him.

‘Not Fontaine-lès-Dijon, to see St Bernard’s home town, by any chance?’

To be honest, he had actually considered bringing forward that trip. But common sense told him that anything with a medieval tag might make them easier to spot. ‘I was thinking of somewhere much, much further away. How about Japan? Ever been there?’

‘Japan? No, of course I haven’t. But why on earth Japan?’ As she asked, her mind couldn’t help thinking about the practical arrangements. They would need flights, clothes ? what was the weather going to be like in Japan in October? ? and, she felt the colour rush to her cheeks, what about accommodation? He noticed her agitation.

‘Never been there either. It’s just somewhere I’ve always wanted to visit. They say it’s one of the safest countries in the world. The other reason is that there is not going to be anything to do with St Bernard of Clairvaux over there to distract me from you. Shall we head off tomorrow?’

He followed the suggestion with another kiss, which answered all her questions. Well, the important one anyway. The autumn weather in Japan would need some research. She would have to see her mum before leaving, and cancel her yoga classes. Then she would need to make a hasty visit to the beauty salon to undergo the necessary agony of getting her legs waxed. She grimaced at the thought, and asked him for an extra day’s grace.

‘Fine, fine. Come to think of it, I have to go to the police station tomorrow to talk to them about death threats.’

He sounded remarkably happy for somebody who had supposedly just suffered an attempt upon his life. But then, she herself was a million times happier now than she had been just twenty minutes earlier. Linda draped herself comfortably around him as he outlined what needed to be done.

‘Today is Wednesday, so we’ll fly out on Friday, presumably getting there on Saturday. I won’t go to the local travel agency in case there really is somebody after me. We won’t tell anybody where we are going. I’ll book the flights and rooms online.’ His voice faltered a little and he caught her eye. She decided to be bold.

‘Room, darling, singular. Just one will do fine.’

Chapter 21

‘Considering what the police said, he was most remarkably calm and relaxed. Joyous, really.’

Duggie, in an attempt to take his mind off things, had decided to prove that he was a modern man. He had been trying for some minutes to make a decent job of ironing a shirt. The results had not been auspicious. Now he was gratefully sitting on the sofa, watching Tina do it far more effectively. As it was her intention to iron her skirt next, she was in her underwear. This only served to heighten the experience for Duggie. Nevertheless, he was far from his normal perky self.

The news from the police had hit him far harder than it would appear to have done Roger. Tina didn’t miss much. She could see he was troubled.

‘Cheer up, babe. It’s probably just some loony.’

‘I hope to hell that you’re right.’

‘You don’t think you are somehow responsible for it, do you, Duggie? You know that’s crazy. You haven’t done anything yet. You’ve just spoken to a few people.’

‘I’m not saying I’m responsible, at least not directly. But Mo said there were bad people out there who could do some terrible things.’ His voice tailed off.

He ran through in his mind just who knew of his plans. The list was reassuringly short: Mr Cardew the solicitor, Mo his new personnel officer and, of course, Tina herself. He watched her at the ironing board for a few minutes, loving her long, dark hair, intelligent face and, of course, that body. No, he thought to himself, there was just no way she could be involved with anything criminal. The only stick-up in which he could imagine her, definitely had nothing to do with a bank.

And Mo? Well, he hardly knew her and she had certainly moved in shady circles. But, at the same time, it had been she who had warned him about the bad people in the first place. Why would she choose to warn him and then spill the beans?

Mr Cardew? There certainly were stories in the newspapers on a regular basis about bent lawyers, but the senior partner in a respectable provincial firm? Hardly likely, but then, the solicitor had leapt at the offer of extra-marital sex made to him by Duggie, on behalf of the new venture. And, of course, there was also a strong possibility that Cardew might have told friends or colleagues about the project. Even if whatever the legal profession’s equivalent of the Hippocratic oath forbade it. So there was an outside chance that one of them…

‘Stop thinking about it, Duggie.’ Tina had left the ironing. He felt her arms around his shoulders, her hair on his neck and her warm body against him. ‘Before the Mob try to rub you out, you will need to have done something to annoy them. So far all you have done is make a few enquiries.’

He caught her hand gratefully, admiring her very professional-sounding language. She was a girl of many talents. He told her so. ‘“The Mob rub you out
.”
Very impressive. How come you speak fluent Micky Spillane? Were you a gangster’s moll in a former life?’ He pulled her gently onto his lap.

She attempted to give him a serious look. ‘Books, Duggie. Remember them? You should try reading from time to time. It’s the second best way I know to spend an evening.’

‘And the first?’

‘I’ll give you a clue. It’s not ironing.’

Chapter 22

Duggie was interviewing.

Well, in truth, Mo was doing most of the talking and Duggie was doing a lot of watching. She had been true to her word. She had managed to collect no fewer than ten girls as possible candidates for the second floor. Five rooms had been made ready by now. The workmen had only just finished a few hours previously. The paint was barely dry.

The décor had been a joint effort by Duggie and Mo. She had been happy to describe all the various establishments where she had worked. These had varied from London, then Manchester, followed by a brief spell in Rome. ‘I was over there on holiday and spent a bit much in the shops, if you know what I mean.’ More recently, she had worked in Plymouth and, incongruously, a village not far from Budleigh Salterton on what Duggie referred to as the Costa Geriatrica. A far cry from Soho indeed.

Duggie had listened in awe as Mo described her past surroundings. These had varied from the outrageous to the downright sordid. He was reminded of one of the Fellini films, where the girls were in a grim white-tiled bunker, not dissimilar to an underground toilet. He, on the other hand, had carefully ensured that his rooms would be stylish and tasteful. This did not, of course, prevent them from installing some of the largest mirrors money could buy. At Mo’s suggestion, they even had one fitted on the ceiling of room two. He had been more than a little concerned about arousing suspicion. But, so far, none of the staff on the floors below had so much as uttered a word. At least not in his presence.

They had decided to give the rooms names, as well as numbers. The idea of themed rooms had come to him from the memory of a holiday with his first wife in Florida, many years before. After a lot of discussion with Mo, he had decided upon what he deemed suitable names. Micky Mouse, Donald Duck and Goofy were not included in the shortlist. Tasteful brass nameplates were affixed to the doors beneath the numbers:

Room 1: Black Lace

Room 2: Gossamer

Room 3: Rawhide

Room 4: Sheer Silk

Room 5: Puss in Boots

Mo assured him that the clients ? he was gradually breaking her of the habit of referring to their future clientele as Joes ? would feel stimulated by the names. Duggie was secretly a bit worried, in case Roger or Linda should come along the corridor, and stop to read the little plates. Luckily, at that time, the happy couple were still somewhere in the Far East, where they had been for several weeks. He would have time to have closed-circuit television and a code-operated security door installed. This was just round the corner, beyond the first room. A brass plate now announced this room as Reception.

Inside, there were comfortable leather armchairs and a screen permanently showing DVDs of an adult nature. ‘To get them in the mood, if you know what I mean.’ Mo herself had been delighted to take over a small side room as an office. This was close enough for her to keep an eye on people going in and out. At the same time, she could check what was happening the other side of the security door.

He had, however, vetoed her suggestion of black sheets and leopard-skin bed covers. Remembering with considerable distaste the camouflage bedcover in her room, he stipulated white sheets and towels, pastel bathroom tiles, curtains and complimentary bath robes. Brighter colours would be provided by the choice of undergarments chosen by each girl. On that score he had left it to Mo to assemble a suitable wardrobe. He was fascinated when a number of boxes of clothes and apparatus started to arrive, addressed to Mo, from a specialist store in Berlin. As he helped her unpack an amazing selection of paraphernalia, he learnt that the Germans were leaders in both quality and variety of this sort of thing.