‘The man who did attack her – he’s behind bars, isn’t he?’
‘He got sixteen years,’ Luke told him.
Bill nodded. ‘Good.’
‘And the model who hired him got a life sentence.’
‘Well, that’s what Orla’s living under, isn’t it?’ Bill said. ‘Her fear and her disfigurement will last a lifetime.’
‘Exactly. At least, if she doesn’t have more surgery, and I don’t think she’s planning on having more. She hates hospitals.’
‘Are the police going to let you know what happens next?’
‘I’m not sure. I’ll probably give them a call and make sure he’s not likely to show himself round here again.’
Bill leaned forward on the bench and shook his head. ‘Poor girl,’ he said. ‘Let’s hope that’s an end to the whole business.’
Orla still hadn’t surfaced by ten o’clock the next morning, which was very unlike her, and Luke was beginning to get worried. He left a breakfast tray outside her door and knocked quietly.
‘Orla? There’s some food for you here. I’m going to take One Ear to the beach, okay?’
When she hadn’t roused by lunchtime, he became more concerned.
‘You want any lunch?’ he asked, gazing down at the breakfast tray, which had remained outside her bedroom door, untouched. ‘Orla? Speak to me! I need to know you’re okay.’
Luke let a couple more hours slip slowly by before he knocked again.
‘Is there anything I can do to help, Orla? Is there anyone you want me to call for you?’
He waited a moment, hoping for an answer, and then he heard a noise and looked down to see a slip of paper that had been pushed under the door. He picked it up and read it. It was a phone number.
Luke took the piece of paper into the great hall. He recognised it as a London number and wondered if it was a friend or a relative of Orla’s, or maybe even some kind of doctor whom she trusted. There was only one way to find out, so he rang the number.
A moment later, a woman’s voice answered.
‘Hello?’
Luke cleared his throat, feeling awkward and anxious.
‘Hi. My name’s Luke. I’m a friend of Orla’s and I’ve been staying with her for a little while.’
‘In the castle?’ The woman’s voice sounded incredulous.
‘Yes.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘Well, that’s why I’m ringing. She’s locked herself in her bedroom and won’t talk to me.’
‘What have you done?’
‘Nothing!’ Luke cried, appalled by her tone. ‘I’m trying to help her.’
‘I’m on my way,’ the voice told him.
‘Who are you?’ Luke managed to ask before she hung up.
‘I’m her mother.’
Chapter 20
Bernadette Kendrick had not come across on the phone as a friendly and understanding human being and, when Luke opened the door to her four hours later, she didn’t look like one either. She was a small, slightly built woman, with the same thick dark hair as Orla, but her face had none of the tenderness Luke had seen in Orla’s. But Luke guessed he should think kindly of her after her long journey and the stress she must be under worrying about her daughter.
‘I’m Luke. Please come in.’
She’d already pushed him out of her way, ignored One Ear, who was barking at her, and dumped her small suitcase in the hallway.
‘Can I get you a cup of tea or some—’
‘Where is she?’ she barked.
‘In her bedroom.’
Bernadette was off. Luke made to follow, but she flung a hand out behind her to stop him.
‘Leave us!’
Luke stopped dead, turning to One Ear, who looked as nonplussed as he was feeling.
‘Well, what do you make of her?’ he whispered.
One Ear slunk back to his bed and Luke went to put the kettle on. He’d make that very rude woman a cup of tea whether she wanted one or not.
After Luke had called Orla’s mother earlier that day, he’d gone straight back to Orla’s bedroom to let her know that she was on her way. Another slip of paper had come out from under the door.
Her name is Bernadette. Do not call her Bernie!
So far, Luke hadn’t had a chance to call her anything.
He made three cups of tea and took two through to Orla’s room on a tray with a jug of milk and a bowl of sugar and a plate of biscuits. The bedroom door was firmly closed and he knocked on it gently.
‘I’ve made some tea for you both,’ he said.
‘Please leave us!’ Bernadette called, sounding exasperated that he should do such a foolish thing.
‘I’ll put the tray outside, then,’ Luke said with a sigh, hovering for a moment, trying to hear them talking together, but he couldn’t really make anything out through the thick wooden door other than low murmurings.
He went back to the kitchen and drank his tea. He knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on his work now and so called through to One Ear. A trip to the beach was what was needed to calm his anxiety. A big blow of ozone should go some way, at least, to making him feel a little better.
It seemed strange to be at the beach without Orla, he thought, as he strode across the sand. One Ear didn’t seem concerned. He wasn’t about to reject a walk when it was offered, no matter who was taking him. Luke watched the great dog lolloping in the waves, and his mind flickered back to a walk he’d had along Camber Sands on the
