When Summer Fades (5 page)

‘I shouldn’t bother. You always say after closing time on Friday nights, Beckford A & E smells like a distillery.’

Sophie grimaced and reached for a pair of chop-sticks, ‘I’d better make the most of this then.’

‘Incidentally, where is Rosa? I thought she liked Chinese food.’

‘She does but she’s gone to—’ Halted mid-sentence by the phone, Sophie lifted the receiver. Hearing Rosa’s agitated voice she sensed something was seriously amiss. Rosa’s English always deteriorated when she became anxious or excited. ‘Rosa? What’s wrong?’

‘It eez Carlos! He eez coming to England!’

‘How wonderful for you!’

‘I know. But Sophie … you do not understand. He come tonight! He ring and I very sorry I forget to tell you, because you work nights all week. Now eez too late to ring him. You will meet him from airport ... yes? I remember you take Callie’s parents to Heathrow. It eez not far I think?’

‘Heathrow? Rosa! I’m supposed to be working!’

‘I know – but his flight come before you go on duty. You have pen? I give you flight number.’

Not knowing why she did so, Sophie found herself searching frantically for a pen and writing down not only Carlos’s flight number but also his expected time of arrival.

Putting two and two together, Callie shook her head in despair. ‘I can't believe you’ve just agreed to that.’

‘Neither can I,’ said Sophie.

‘So … what do you intend to do?’

‘Do? I’ll have to go and meet him of course. He’ll be expecting some sort of welcoming party. With Rosa unable to make it, I guess that means me.’

‘I take it you do know what he looks like?’

Sophie hesitated. ‘Well, sort of.’

In response to Callie’s puzzled frown, Sophie continued, ‘Rosa showed me her family photos when she first arrived. To be honest most of them were just a blur of faces and she spoke so quickly when pointing everyone out.’

Reminded of the time when Rosa was about to show her the photos of her eighteenth birthday and they’d been interrupted by a phone call from Carlos, Sophie began to panic. ‘Oh Lord! That doesn't mean I’ve got to stand there waving an idiot board does it?’

Callie grinned, wickedly. ‘Sounds as if you might,’

‘Then come with me Callie.’

‘No way, José! Or should that be Carlos? From what Rosa’s said about him, he’s a pretty tall guy, not a little short arse like me. Mind you I probably make up in width what he does in height. You’ll never get all three of us in that Mini of yours. And don’t forget his luggage. If Carlos is anything like Rosa he certainly won’t be doing a Cliff Richard!’

‘Cliff Richard? Whatever do you mean?’

‘Travelling Light,’ Callie said, ‘Don’t you remember? That’s another of your mum’s old 45's.’

Listening to Callie doing a very bad Cliff Richard impersonation, she was far better at Humphrey Bogart, Sophie surveyed the congealed food on the plate. ‘Somehow I think I’ve just lost my appetite.’

‘And somehow I think you’d better get a move on,’ Callie urged, looking at her watch. ‘Especially as you’re on night duty as well.’

Running to her bedroom Sophie changed hurriedly into her uniform, deciding once she’d dropped Carlos at his hotel, she could head straight for the hospital. ‘His hotel!’ she gasped. ‘Rosa didn’t say where he was staying!’

‘Elementary my dear Sophie. All you have to do is ask Carlos!’

‘Aren’t you forgetting something? I’ve got to find him first!’

‘Rosa must have a proper photo of him somewhere. Why don’t we go and look in her bedroom?’

Sophie stood uneasily in the doorway. ‘Callie … I really don’t like the idea of going into her room.’

‘
Her
room
indeed! Until a few weeks ago this was your bedroom. It is still your flat, remember!’

‘Even so, it’s not right looking through Rosa’s things.’

‘Will you listen to that?’ Callie protested, watching Sophie turn on her heels and head for the kitchen. ‘Anyone would think we were doing an Inspector Morse and his sidekick wots-his-name?’

‘Lewis,’ Sophie called back, gathering together the remains of the Chinese. She looked anxiously at the clock, then at the debris left from the meal. ‘I ought to clear this up before I go, but there’s no time, is there?’

‘Not really,’ Callie agreed, from the doorway. In her hand she held a diary stuffed with letters and photos.

Sophie froze. ‘Callie you haven’t?’

‘No. Of course I haven’t been rummaging through her things, this was on the side-table by the bed and sort of fell on the floor when I passed.'

‘Hmph! You expect me to believe that?’

‘Don’t worry. I promise I’ll put it back where I found it.’

Sophie appeared relieved but Callie didn’t move. Instead she began flicking through the assorted photos. ‘Callie! Will you please put those back!’

‘Don’t you want to know what he looks like?’

‘I
do
know what he looks like!’ lied Sophie, stubbornly looking away when Callie flashed a pile of photos and the diary in her direction.

‘All right. All right. Have it your own way, if it will make you feel any better. Just look for a tall distinguished sort of guy with silver-grey hair and a flashing smile. About mid-fifties I should say.’

Mid
fifties
! Sophie’s eyes widened in horror. She recalled Rosa saying Carlos was considerably older than herself. Surely he wasn’t
that
old? Hunting for her car keys and trying to remember what Rosa had said about her so-called
betrothal
, Sophie felt suddenly sorry for her. Poor Rosa! No wonder she seemed so intent on having a good time while she was here in Beckford.’

Callie stood in the doorway, buttoning up her coat. ‘Ready then?’

‘Have you put—?’

‘Yes, Inspector. I’ve concealed the evidence. Rosa won’t even know. Though I confess I’m surprised the only photos she’s got on display are those of Johnny Depp and that guy from the X-Factor. Oh! Hang on. You don’t suppose she keeps a photo of Carlos hidden under her pillow do you? Shall I go and have a quick look?’

‘No! Just get out!’ Sophie ordered, pushing her friend through the doorway and onto the landing.

Callie sniffed the late October air and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

‘What’s that awful pong? It smells like a brothel.’

‘How would you know?’

‘My sister Colleen had one of those sex parties once. As well as sex aids, whips and naughty undies, they had loads of weird smelling candles.’

‘Then, you’re probably right,’ Sophie teased, ‘Lottie and Pearl usually have a few friends round on a Friday night.’

There was a resounding ‘Oh!’ as Callie turned and looked behind her. ‘You mean the two old pro—?’

Sophie swiftly clamped her hand across Callie’s mouth with a whispered, ‘Shhh. Don’t you dare say that! Contrary to popular belief Lottie and Pearl are not … In fact they’re really rather sweet. I’ve got to know them quite well since the Rosa incident.’

Attempting to dislodge Sophie’s hand, Callie squeaked. ‘Oh, yeah. So what about their
friends
?’

‘Their friends are perfect gentlemen, they seem to spend most of their time reminiscing about the war and listening to Glenn Miller records.’

‘Blimey! Just how old are Lottie and Pearl?’

Sophie did some quick mental arithmetic, ‘About sixty, I guess.’

‘Sixty! You’re having me on! Surely if war broke out in 1939 they couldn’t have gone on the game when they were only—’

Laughing, Sophie shook her head, ‘Callie! What am I going to do with you? Lottie and Pearl are not
on
the
game
but Lottie’s dad was in the RAF.’

Callie shrugged her shoulders, it still didn’t make sense. Anyway did it matter? All that mattered now was that Sophie got to Heathrow in time to meet Carlos. ‘Heh! I’ve just had a really wicked thought,’ she giggled, when they drew up outside the Nag’s Head. ‘If old cousin Carlos gets bored while he’s over here, you could always send him round to see Lottie and Pearl!’

‘Heaven forbid!’ Sophie cried in alarm, ‘I hadn’t thought of him coming to the flat. You don’t think he will – do you?’

‘Course not. Rosa will be whisked off to London for tea at the Ritz and dinner at the Savoy! Who knows, you might even get taken along too.’

‘I doubt it,’ Sophie said, pulling away from the kerb. ‘Don’t forget I’m working all weekend.’

Edging the mini towards the M25, Sophie hit five solid queues of Friday night traffic filtering into three. She should have realised. At this rate it would take simply ages to get to Heathrow. Leaning forward she switched on the radio, both for company and the latest travel bulletins.

‘And that was Diana Ross, singing,
I'm
Still
Waiting
,’ came a friendly, mellow voice.

Sophie drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. She was still waiting in this wretched traffic! Listening to the DJ announce that he would be on air until ten o’clock, Sophie settled back in the driver’s seat. Carlos’s flight was due in at 9.45, which should mean perfect timing. Accompanied on her journey by such a deeply soothing voice, Sophie felt very much reassured. By the time she reached Terminal Two, Carlos should be reclaiming his baggage and heading for arrivals.

‘
And
this
is
Mark
signing
off
and
wishing
you
all
a
very
good
night
.
Take
care
and
have
a
great
weekend
.’

‘No!’ Sophie pleaded, peering first at the radio and then the clock on the dashboard. It was indeed ten o’clock already. ‘You
can't
go yet, Mark! I’m not even near the terminal!’

Frantically scanning lanes of snaking vehicles, Sophie saw a gap in the traffic. If she could only squeeze through and avoid the next hold up?

Here goes, Poppy, she thought, willing encouragement to the bright red Mini. You might not be in the first flush of youth, my dear, but please don’t have a mid-life crisis now! Spurred on it would appear by Sophie’s beseeching cries, the ageing Poppy spluttered and coughed into life, nosing her way in the direction of the familiar Heathrow tunnel.

Marginally comforted when the sign for the short stay car park came into view, Sophie breathed a deep sigh of relief. Now all she had to do was find Carlos Martins.

‘All I have to do!’ The words echoed in stereo within the confines of the car, filling Sophie with renewed panic. What if she’d already missed him and why hadn’t she taken more notice of Rosa’s family photos?

Knowing full well it was because Rosa always insisted on showing her these photos when she’d either just come in from work exhausted or was just about to leave for Beckford General, Sophie became aware of agitated tooting. Someone had their hand jammed firmly on a car horn. With a jolt she realised they were gesticulating wildly in her direction from an open window.

‘Take your bloody ticket will you!’

‘Sorry,’ she mouthed, knowing it would do no good. The driver behind couldn’t hear, nor did he look the type who’d be in the least bit sympathetic.

Hearing a squeal of tyres as a car sped past, its driver shouting obscenities, Sophie negotiated an empty parking bay near the footbridge.

Locking the car, she nodded approval. If Carlos did have loads of luggage, at least he wouldn’t have far to walk. Now, what was it Callie had said? Tall, dark and distinguished, greying at the temples, and with a flashing smile, that shouldn’t be too difficult – should it?

How wrong she was! Coming towards her was a sea of tall, dark, fiftyish-looking men. OK, not many of them fell into the distinguished looking category that Callie had described, and flashing smiles were also sadly lacking. And they’re all far too pale, she told herself, hurrying past Boots (somewhere she’d have liked to stop – she felt a headache coming on), besides, none of them could possibly be Carlos. Surely he’d still be at baggage reclaim?

To Sophie’s acute dismay, all arrival screens registered the same information. Flight TP454 due in at 21.45 had not only landed, it had also come in ahead of schedule.
Baggage
in
hall
, the screen flashed and by the rows of assorted numbers now clicking merrily away beneath the Lisbon flight, she could only assume Carlos and his luggage had not only been "
in
hall
" already, they’d also left it some considerable time since!

‘Oh Lord!’ she said, feeling her mouth suddenly go dry. Perhaps Callie was right? She
should
have brought an idiot board. Frantically searching her handbag for pen and paper, she discovered nothing bigger than a used envelope and a till receipt. And a complete idiot she’d look waving her Sainsbury’s bill with the name Carlos Martins scrawled across it!
Oh
,
Rosa
!