Thewelcoming smile left her face and the temperature immediatelydropped below freezing and I wished I’d not opened mymouth.
“No pets or members of the opposite sex in your room.Breakfast between seven and nine. Dinner at eight sharp. Noexceptions. Here’s your key, up the stairs, third on the left.Thank you for your custom.” She bustled her way without a backwardsglance through the doorway she’d entered from.
I wasquite taken aback at her response. Perhaps there were memories shehad no wish to relive? Picking up the key which had a ‘3’ on it,and my belongings I headed up the stairs and smiled to myself –there was no chance of anyone of the opposite sex in myroom.
On theway up I passed several small seascape paintings hanging on thewalls. At the top of the landing a large window with a whale motiflet light in.
Roomnumber three was small and pleasant, with nautical knick-knacksscattered around the place and a flowery coverlet on thebed.
I hungmy umbrella on the hook behind the door and placed my case on thebed. Before beginning my search I needed to freshen up. Undoing theclasp and opening my bag revealed a folded piece ofpaper.
Icertainly didn’t put it there, and the only other person to handlemy bag was the brown-suited man on the train.
Sittingon the bed I carefully I unfolded it and read the words ‘Forgether’ written inside.
Back toTop
Six
I don’tknow for how long I sat on the bed looking at the words. I knewsomething strange was going on with Katherine. I mean why would astranger be wearing her clothes? But this? This was far more thanjust a missing person situation. She must really be in danger if Iwas being warned off from finding her. But who else knew about mecoming to Southend? I only knew myself yesterday afternoon. MaybeMistress Velda had looked into the future and saw me on thetrain?
Therewas no chance I’d meekly back down. I’d seen the results of that inthe dark, dangerous alleys of London. My only thought at that timewas to get out and get away from the hunger and desperation and geta better life for myself.
Angergrew in me - whoever it was had never threatened anyone like me.I’d make them regret ever making that mistake.
Thelonger I sat the more my resolve grew, until it forced me to myfeet and out of the room to find her.
MrsMorris was nowhere in sight and I thought she’d not appreciate meringing her bell to ask directions.
Eventhough it was approaching noon the sky outside the front door wasstill strangely very dark. Thankfully I’d remembered to bring myumbrella with me and opened it as a precaution on my way to thegift shop next door.
A bellrang as I opened the door and made my way along the racks oftrinkets and postcards (with unfortunate examples of theaforementioned mother-in-law jokes on them), but the warning I’dreceived from the man on the train made me dismiss the exhortationsto ‘have a lovely time in Southend-on-Sea.’
Arrivingat the serving counter I smiled (though I didn’t feel like doingso) at the short, silver-haired lady, who, in turn, lookedwistfully at my hair.
“Hello, would you be able to direct me to 8a Honitonroad?”
“Oh, second left and just round…”
Shestopped as a thought came to her. Frowning she said, “Did you say8a?”
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
“Just a moment, dear. George!” she called through an open doorbehind her.
A broadScottish accent called out, “Yes, woman!”
“Honiton Road. Was that where the fire was?”
Thesound of boot steps grew in volume and a tall, heavily bearded manappeared through the open doorway.
“Aye, Honiton road. It was in the paper a while back. Why d’yeask?”
The ladynodded towards me, “She’s asking about it.”
His darkeyes examined me, especially my hair.
What wasgoing on now?
“Terrrible thing,” he said, dramatically rolling hisr’s.
“What was?”
Silver-hair took up the story, “A few years ago gas lineswere being put in and some mistake was made–”
“Council cock-up!” he interjected darkly.
Ignoringhim she continued, “And several houses were blown tobits!”
“Smitherrreens!”
“Yes, smithereens!”
Her eyeswidened and she seemed to be lost in happy memories. This was allvery well but it still didn’t tell me much.
“And?” I prompted.
“Oh, sorry, dear.” Her voice lowered to a conspiratoriallevel, “No survivors were everfound.”
Strangely it looked like she was taking great delight in themacabre story.
“And 8a was one of those houses?”
Shelooked at the man for confirmation.
Henodded, “Oh, yes. Completely destrrroyed.”
Remembering the postmark date I asked, “Two years ago?Three?”
“Our Sandra pupped soon afterwards if I recall?” his eyebrowsqueried her.
“Yes, yes you’re right. They’d be around three by now. Mustremember to send cards.”
A puzzlehad just been added to my enigma. If the address no longer existedbecause it had been blown up by a gas explosion around the time theletter was sent, where could I go next? I thanked them and left,lost in my thoughts.
“Don’t forget to visit the pier!” the lady called after mebefore I’d shut the door.
I neededtime to think and, as my stomach informed me, also something toeat.
The skyoutside was still strangely dark. Not wanting to be caught inwhatever downpour was overdue I went back to the Whale’s Gizzard tosee if Mrs Morris would consent to cooking me something. Hopefullyshe was as good a cook as her possible twin sister. It might alsobe a chance to repair my faux pas earlier.
Thankfully this time I opened the door I found her in a whiteapron pottering around dusting the many pictures on thewalls.
“Hello. I’m sorry for earlier.”
Sheturned and gave me a look, the sort that said I’d mortally woundedher.
Strangely, her resemblance to Mrs Miggins made me want totrust her.
“I’m looking for someone, and the only lead I had hasn’t cometo anything.”
I musthave looked particularly forlorn as her face melted into a motherlysmile and she took me by the arm. My stomach chose that moment tosound its own form of distress, and she smiled evenmore.
“Hungry, dear?”
“Famished.”
“I have just the thing.”
She ledme round the small reception desk and through the curtaineddoorway. Past a comfy chair with a newspaper next to it we headeddown a short corridor and
