progress.
After he had gone out, she went in to give Father a drink, but he had fallen asleep again. She thought his breathing was easier, and relaxed a little. In the tiny bathroom, she cleaned the basin where Edward had left a grimy rim, and noticed a small medicine cabinet over the bath. Might be something in there to help Father, she thought, and opened the door. Cough syrup and a couple of bottles of eye drops. Then she saw something more interesting. A dog-eared packet with a prescription label. She recognized at once the name of sleeping pills she had once been given by a Tresham doctor. A sudden idea made her tear the packet open with hasty fingers. She prayed there would be at least two left. There were three, and she put them into her skirt pocket.
¦
Edward hugged the inside edge of the pavement, walking quickly with his head down. Just up from the alley leading to their flat, a small newsagent and sweetshop made a good living selling a wide range of newspapers in several languages. Tourists had come back to Edinburgh after a bad season when nobody travelled unless they had to, fearful of terrorist attacks.
“Good afternoon,” said the Asian proprietor, smiling pleasantly at Edward. “May I help you?” He stared at the unkempt figure, and wondered privately where he had come from. He was an unusual customer in this affluent part of the old town. Edward did not reply, but held out a couple of papers and the exact money, still with his head down and face concealed. “Thank you, sir,” said the newsagent, and glanced at the front page of one of the papers Edward clutched. A large photograph of a haunted-looking face had pride of place. “Find This Man!” said the headline.
“Looks like a big story, sir,” he said politely, but Edward did not answer and vanished quickly from the shop. He must get back to the flat as quickly as possible. Diving into a mini-supermarket, he picked up some essentials and blessed the checkout girl, who was talking so hard to her neighbour that she scarcely looked at him. He hurried back up the spiral staircase and shut the door behind him with relief. There was much to do before he could venture out again.
“You’re back soon,” Enid called from the kitchen. “Did you remember the painkillers?”
“Tomorrow will do,” said Edward curtly. He looked around the small entrance lobby, searching for a place to hide the telltale newspapers. Ah, that would do. A pile of old magazines, hidden by a vacuum cleaner. He shoved the papers under the pile, and went through to the sitting-room. Enid must be kept in the dark for as long as possible. Thank God there was no television in the flat, nor radio. All part of Donald getting away from it all. Edward had checked, of course, ready to disable any means of communication from the outside world. God, it’s just as well I’ve a good head on my shoulders, he congratulated himself, and then remembered that that had been his mother’s favourite phrase. He blotted out the memory, took the shopping through to Enid, and disappeared into the bathroom saying, “Sudden call of nature! But I got all we need, and I’ll get the rest later.”
¦
Next time Enid checked on Father, he greeted her with a much stronger voice, and her spirits began to rise. Her plan depended on him being at least mobile. She made him a cup of tea, and was surprised to see that Edward was still in the bathroom. When he finally emerged, Enid stared. “What on earth?” she said. He had shaved off his straggly beard with an old razor of Donald’s and, more shockingly, all his hair had gone too. He was completely bald.
“Now,” he said, with a jaunty smile, “I look like every other yobbo, don’t I?” His dark eyes burned into her, and she shivered.
“Yes, you do, Edward,” she said. “Nobody would recognize you.” Surely that was the right thing to say. But he was advancing on her, and she shrank back. He only patted her shoulder.
“Good girl,” he said. “Father better? Splendid. Must get going now. I’ll be back shortly. Got to get a few new clothes…there’s an Oxfam shop down the road. Don’t want to look
Enid realized with a sinking heart that he was exhilarated by this new game. A challenge, he would have called it, but she knew it was the adrenaline of pitting himself against an unseen enemy that gave him the feeling of excitement he’d always craved.
“Don’t forget to find a surgery,” she said, suspecting rightly that concern for Father had gone right out of his head. “He’s much better, but still needs to see a doctor. Don’t forget, will you, Edward?”
He shook his head impatiently. Then, unaccustomed to his scalp’s sudden exposure to fresh air, ran his hand over his baldness. “Well, you know,” he said, “it really feels quite good. Sort of clean and businesslike! Perhaps I’ll keep it like this, when…well…”
“When what, Edward?” said Enid quietly.
“When all of this is over. When I’ve got it sorted,” he said. He blinked several times and said, “You know, Enid, I hadn’t realized that I do need glasses!” With a grin he went out again, locking the door behind him. She heard his quick footsteps on the narrow spiral stairs, and then silence.
Enid quietly busied herself tidying the flat and piling up their few belongings. Drawers and cupboards were full of the owner’s clothes and shoes, but she managed to clear some space. Edward must get no hint that she meant to leave. Oh, Edward…She took a deep breath, and continued work. Everywhere was dusty, and she wondered how long since Donald and his wife had been here. Probably one of those couples who wintered abroad, she thought enviously. Still, it was not winter any more. They might be back soon. But Edward was thorough. He would not have brought them here if Donald had been expected back shortly.
She found a duster and went systematically round the flat. I wonder how the Charringtons are managing without me, she thought sadly. Perfectly well, probably. Mrs M will have organized it. Probably forgotten all about me. Out of sight, out of mind. A tear dropped on to the duster, and she sniffed. In the lobby by the front door, she found the cleaner and pulled it out, ready to give everywhere a good going over. Then she saw the pile of magazines. They were mostly colour supplements from old Sunday papers. Still, Father might like to look at them. He could leaf through them, see if anything interested him. She lifted the pile and saw the newspapers underneath.
Edward stared out at her from the photograph. It was an old one, taken when he had won a clay pigeon shooting match in Fletching. His hair was neat, but long, and he had a beard. ‘FIND THIS MAN’. She read on, and finally put the pile of magazines back to cover the newspapers. She went unsteadily into the sitting-room, collapsing on a chair and putting her head between her knees to fight the overwhelming faintness.
“Enid? Enid, can I have a drink of water, dear?” It was her father, calling in a much stronger voice. She stood up, and with a huge effort walked slowly into the kitchen to run some cold water into a clean glass. She gulped a mouthful herself, and then took it in to her father.
“Ah, there you are,” he said. “I’m feeling much better, dear. Perhaps I’ll get up soon and maybe manage a stroll outside?” He seemed to have forgotten they were prisoners, and Enid wondered if it had all been too much for him.
“We’ll see,” said Enid, and managed a small smile. We’re not going anywhere, Father, she wanted to say. At least, not until I’ve made it safe for you. “We’ll see,” she repeated. “Now, would you like me to sit with you for a bit? We can have a nice talk.”
¦
“Oh, look!” said the woman from the Midlands, peering round the edge of the curtain down into the courtyard. “There’s another man from that staircase. Must be several of them in that tiny flat. He walks like the other one. Perhaps he’s his brother…?”
“For goodness sake!” said her husband. “We haven’t come all this way to indulge in gossip about what you see through the lace curtains. Come away from the window at once!”
“They’re not lace,” said his wife stubbornly. “The Trust would never have lace curtains. And it’s not gossip. You’re the one who’s always saying I’m not observant enough. I’m just taking an intelligent interest in my surroundings.”
“Huh,” her husband replied. “Sounds like gossip to me.”
She gave up, and came away from the window. “I think I’ll go shopping,” she said.
“Hang on a minute,” he said. “I’ll come with you.” Oh, bugger, she thought, but she waited while he put on his coat and hat, and they went out together.
