Upon a Dark Night (8 page)

Rose smiled, the image of Ada at a tea-dance temporarily pushing her other troubles into the background.

Percy frowned. ‘Did I say that?’

‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,’ said Ada sharply. ‘It was the nicest compliment anyone ever paid me. You said dancing with me was bliss.’

‘She must be right,’ said the world’s most perfect gent. ‘I must have said it.’

‘Don’t spoil it now,’ Ada warned him. She turned back to Rose. ‘He said he was a hopeless dancer normally and this was bliss because he could tell the minute we linked arms that there was no risk of treading on my feet. He said he would remember me anywhere.’

‘Absolutely true,’ said Percy.

‘He offered to pick me out in an identity parade. He had the entire court speechless with laughter. Can you see me in a line-up? I don’t know if they believed a word of it, but they had a ball and my case was dismissed.’

‘And mine was deferred for two weeks,’ said Percy. ‘By which time I got myself better organised. Now, ladies, I’d like to invite you to sit down, but the best I can offer is the back of my Land Rover and I’m not sure if it’s such a good idea.’

‘That’s all right, love,’ said Ada. ‘If I could squeeze inside, which is doubtful, I’d be sure to bust the suspension. We’ll talk here.’

‘I can offer something very agreeable from a flask if you don’t object to paper cups.’

Ada insisted that they hadn’t come for hospitality. ‘This silver fish mascot I mentioned on the phone, Percy. Have you ever seen anything like it?’

‘On a modern car? No, I can’t say I have,’ he said. ‘Sorry to disappoint. Mascots of any sort are rare these days, with a few obvious exceptions. They were used to decorate the radiator cap originally. Like figureheads, which is what we call them in the trade. Common enough before the First World War and into the twenties and thirties. I’ve seen monkeys, dragonflies, dancers. They looked rather fetching on the front of a handsome vehicle. No offence, but the most popular by far were naked ladies. I
have
seen fish. But not mass-produced, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘We’re not,’ said Ada. ‘All we want is to find this car.’

Percy’s face twisted into a look of pain as he plumbed the depths of his memory. ‘There was a leaping salmon designed by a firm in Birmingham. That was silver - well, chrome - but I haven’t seen one in the last thirty years. A silver fish on a modern car … As I say, I don’t believe any motor manufacturer uses a fish. All I can suggest is that it must be something the owner had fitted.’

‘Custom made?’ said Ada.

He nodded. ‘You come across them once in a while. The most bizarre I heard of was the late Marquess of Exeter, David Burghley. He had a Roller, you know, a Rolls Royce, being one of the elite. Poor chap had terrible arthritis of the hips in middle age, which was sad considering he’d been a marvellous athlete in his time. Won the Olympic hurdles - that’s how good he was. Remember
Chariots of Fire,
racing round the quad at Cambridge while Great Tom was chiming noon? That was based on one of his exploits. Anyway, he made light of his handicap. Had one of the early artificial hip replacement operations in the days when the things were metal, and when it was later removed, he had the stainless steel socket mounted on the front of his Roller in place of the Spirit of Ecstasy that you see on all of them. So, you see, it can happen. Some people go to exceptional lengths to personalise their cars.’

‘You think we could be looking for something unique,’ said Ada. ‘That’s got to be helpful.’

‘If we can rely on our information,’ said Rose, thinking how old Mrs Thornton was, and wishing her witness was more dependable.

‘It seems to me,’ Percy summed up, ‘that you’ve got to look for an owner in some way connected with fish. An angler. Plenty of them in this part of the world.’

‘Or somebody called Fish?’ said Ada.

‘Pike,’ said Rose resignedly. ‘Or Whiting.’

‘Equally, this might be a chappie in the fish and chip business,’ Percy suggested. ‘It’s got all kinds of connotations when you begin to think about it. There are tropical fish-keepers.’

‘Don’t go on, Perce,’ said Ada. ‘We’ve got the point. It’s going to be easier to look for the car than work out who owns it.’

‘I’ll see if I can discover anything through the trade,’ Percy offered. ‘Ask around. That’s the way to find things out.’

They rode back to the city centre in a minibus. Before climbing aboard, Ada got the usual dubious look from the driver. She needed the width of two seats, but nothing was said and she paid the same fare as Rose.

‘He’s a poppet,’ said Ada, meaning Percy.

‘Yes.’ Rose was still weighing the morning’s developments.

‘He’ll get weaving now. He’s got all sorts of contacts.’

She responded flatly, ‘Good.’

They got off at Cleveland Place and crossed the bridge to return to the hostel, for lunch, as Ada made clear.

Neither of them paid much attention to the line of cars outside Harmer House. Parked cars fitted naturally into the scenery in Bathwick Street. Only a space in the line might have merited some interest, for in this part of the city one vehicle always replaced another in a very short time.

Ada continued to talk optimistically of Percy’s networking skills, while Rose heard without really listening.

They were passing the building next to the hostel when a car door opened somewhere near. Rose didn’t even glance towards it, so she had a shock when a hand grasped her arm above the elbow. Turning, she looked into the face of a thin, youngish, black-haired man with a forced smile. ‘Hello, love,’ he said without raising his voice. ‘You don’t have to go in there after all. I’ve come to take you home.’

‘What?’ she said, startled. She didn’t know him.

His grip on her arm tightened. ‘The car’s over there. Look lively.’ He was still grinning like a doorstep evangelist. He needed a shave, but his clothes were passably smart.

‘Who are you?’

‘Come on, love. You know me,’ he answered, tugging on her arm.

She was forced to take a couple of steps towards him.

Ada had barely noticed this going on, but now she turned and said, ‘Someone you know, petal?’

Rose’s fear came out in her voice. ‘I don’t remember.’ She told the man, ‘Let go of my arm, please.’

Ada asked him, ‘What’s this about? Who are you?’

He said, ‘Keep out of this. She’s going with me.’

‘She isn’t if she doesn’t want to,’ said Ada. ‘Let’s talk about this in a civilised way.’

Civility was not on this man’s agenda. He tugged Rose towards him, wrapped his left arm around her back and hustled her across the pavement towards the open rear door of a large red Toyota. The engine was running and someone was in the driving seat.

Rose cried out in pain from the contact of the man’s hand on her injured ribs. He leaned on her, forcing her to bend low so as to ram her into the car, at the same time pressing a knee against her buttocks. She tried to resist by reaching out and bracing her arm against the door-frame, but it was useless. Disabled by her injury, she was incapable of holding on.

She screamed.

Her face jammed against the leather of the back seat. She braced her legs and tried unsuccessfully to kick. He had grabbed her below the knees. Only her shins and feet were still outside the car and he was bundling them in like pieces of luggage.

Then Ada acted.

Excessive weight is mostly a burden, but on rare occasions it can be turned to advantage. Lacking the strength to pull the man off, Ada charged him with agility that would not have disgraced a sumo wrestler and swung the full weight of her ample hips against him. The impact would have crushed the man’s pelvis if he had not turned instinctively a moment before the crunch. The car suffered the major damage, a dent in the bodywork the size of a dinner plate. The man caught a glancing thump and was thrust sideways. He bounced against the door so hard that it was forced past the restrainers on the hinges. Ada gave him a shove in the chest. He grunted, crumpled and hit the pavement.

They couldn’t expect to hold him off a second time. Ada grabbed Rose by the belt of her jeans, scooped her out and swung her across the pavement towards the entrance to the hostel. ‘In the house, quick!’ she gasped.

Rose needed no bidding. She dashed inside and upstairs. Behind her, Ada stood between the stone gateposts ready, if necessary, to do battle again.

There was no need. The man picked himself up, crawled into the car and gasped something to his driver. They were on the move with the door still hanging open. It was unlikely if it would shut or if they cared.

‘Take me a while to get my breath back,’ Ada said when she rejoined Rose upstairs. She slumped on her bed.

Rose thanked her. She was stretched out fighting for breath herself.

They lay like that for some time, recovering.

‘What was it for?’ Rose said eventually. ‘What was he going to do with me?’

‘I wouldn’t put money on a candlelit supper,’ said Ada.

‘Yes, but…’

‘If he’s really your bloke, you’re better off without him until he calms down a bit.’

‘My bloke? He isn’t my bloke,’ Rose shrilled. She was appalled that Ada should think it a possibility. ‘I’ve never laid eyes on him.’

‘How do you know, petal?’

She said, ‘For God’s sake, don’t keep saying that to me, Ada. Look, I’m really grateful for what you did down there. I am, honestly. But if you think that gorilla had anything to do with me, you can’t have much an opinion of me.’

‘He must have had something to do with you, petal,’ persisted Ada. ‘Okay, he didn’t treat you like precious goods, but he knew what he wanted. He was waiting there for you.’

‘How did he know? Oh,’ she said, answering herself, ‘the paper. It was in the bloody paper. I suppose it said I was staying here.’

‘Even if it didn’t, any guy with half a brain could find out,’ said Ada. ‘There aren’t that many hostels in Bath for drop-outs like you and me.’

‘He started by calling me “love” and telling me he was taking me home,’ Rose recalled. ‘Trying to sweet-talk me into going with him.’

‘Optimist,’ said Ada.

‘Bastard,’ said Rose. ‘One look at him told me he was phoney. That horrible grin. What is he - a maniac? He was trying to abduct me, Ada.’
Abduct
:
the word sounded positively Victorian and the moment she spoke it she expected Ada to mock, but she didn’t.

‘No argument, petal, but I wouldn’t put him down as a nutter. He had a driver in that car. Nutters are loners. They don’t hunt in pairs.’

‘It’s not unknown.’

‘This wasn’t a casual pick-up. These two were organised. They must have been waiting there some time.’’

Rose shivered. ‘That’s ugly.’

‘Sinister.’

‘Why, Ada? Why would anybody want to snatch some unfortunate woman who loses her memory and gets her picture in the paper?’

There was a longish pause from the other bed while Ada weighed the possibilities. Up to now, her advice had always been sensible except when it touched on kleptomania. ‘If it was one bloke, I’d say he was after the usual thing. Two makes it different. There’s got to be advantage in it. Money.’

‘Kidnapping?’

‘Here’s one scenario. They - or someone they work for - saw your picture in the paper and recognised you. Let’s say you come from a wealthy family. They could demand a good ransom. You’re an easy target.’

‘If my face is so well known, why didn’t my own people come and find me?’

‘Maybe they will. Let’s hope so.’

Rose said, ‘I’m going to go to the police. What happened just now was a crime, Ada. They could easily try again.’

Ada’s reluctance to have any truck with the police was well known. she said dismissively, ‘That’s your decision, petal.’

‘Well, I can’t bank on you being there to beat off the opposition next time,’ Rose pointed out.

‘Is that what you think the fuzz will do? Supply you with a personal bodyguard?’

‘No, but at least they’ll pursue these thugs who attacked us. I can give them a description.’

‘What description?’ said Ada, becoming increasingly sarcastic. ‘Some white guy between twenty and thirty, average height, with black hair, a grey suit and stubble, accompanied by someone else of uncertain age, height and sex, who can drive a car. I’m sure they’ll comb the West Country looking for those two.’

‘We know the colour of the car.’

‘We know it was a Toyota, but I could point you out a dozen red Toyotas without walking five minutes from here. I didn’t take the number - did you?’

Rose shook her head. ‘But someone else might have noticed them waiting.’

‘And taken the number?’ Ada heaved herself into a sitting position. ‘Listen to me, dreamer. All you have to do is change your address. Those goons won’t know where to look for you.’

‘How can I do that? I don’t have any money.’

‘But I have chums. I could find you a squat.’

One stage closer to sleeping rough. Rose didn’t care for that one bit. ‘I’ll think it over,’ she said.

‘Feel any better now?’ asked Ada.

‘I’m not shaking so much, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Good. Let’s eat. It’s okay…’ Ada held up her hands in mock self-defence. ‘…we don’t have to go to the shops. I have a stack of pork pies in the fridge.’

Nine

Ada was right about one thing. To move out of Harmer House was Rose’s top priority now. She had no liking for the place. She wanted to leave right away; but not to enter a squat, as Ada had suggested. She would ask Avon Social Services to relocate her. She called their office to make an appointment, and was told that Imogen was in court. The earliest she could manage was next morning.

After an uneventful night, she walked alone all the way down to the office in Manvers Street, nervously eyeing the stationary cars she passed, yet feeling better each step of the way for showing some independence. She was not ungrateful to Ada, who had offered to come in support, but this time it would not have been wise. Ada knew everyone at Social Services and boasted that she could get some action out of ‘that lot who never get off their backsides except to switch on the kettle’- an approach that might have achieved results, but not the sort Rose hoped for. Besides, her own experience of Imogen was fine; she couldn’t fault her. She had thanked Ada warmly and said she felt this was one matter she had to sort out for herself.