As Tom sat on the sofa contemplating dinner at The Fig Leaf, he felt he was stepping across the threshold into a new and exciting world. One inhabited by the likes of Melanie Adams. His suit was okay for mixing with the rich and famous but he gave himself a reminder to be on best behaviour over dinner. He knew he had a tendency to drink a little too much wine given the opportunity, especially if someone else was paying. Alcohol in turn often had the effect on him of fancying the nearest reasonably attractive woman. He had no delusions that Melanie Adams would be remotely interested in his charms, so sensible drinking would be the order of the night. Embarrassing behaviour was definitely not on the menu. On which thought he smiled inwardly that at least he’d so far managed to resist the urge to ask for her autograph.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sam Murphy had never been arrested for any crime in her twenty-three years of life. Thus she had been able to move confidently through passport control, without fear of her name coming up on any computer screen. She gave her best smile to the man seated at the desk, who returned the smile slightly half-heartedly, like someone who is overworked and still has a long shift ahead. The bad weather had caused her flight to be delayed two hours and she was just pleased to have landed, before any further deterioration in the weather caused Heathrow to shut down completely.
She remembered how as a kid once a year they would take the ferry to Holyhead as a family and after three hours feeling sick on a ferry rolling around in the sea, they would spend hours longer getting to their destination, whether it was Liverpool or London. She’d hated those journeys. Thank God for being able to fly, even with delays. On her previous visits to London she’d been able to stay with cousins but given her current circumstances decided she needed to keep away from anyone with ties to back home. Otherwise her father would soon get to learn her whereabouts and that could cause a right stink.
The previous afternoon she’d booked into a small and shabby hotel in Ealing, which though on the west edge of London, is served by good mainline train and underground connections. The hotel was cheap and met the minimum requirements of having a working shower and a Television. She had asked to see the room before agreeing to take it, not wanting to part with her money till she was sure of what she was getting. The young man on reception had reluctantly shown her the way to the second floor room, making no attempt at conversation and probably expecting her to have wasted his time, once she saw the small room and drab furnishings. But after checking the shower and telly worked she said she would take the room and they returned downstairs to register. At which point, his demeanour completely changed and he seemed to notice her properly for the first time. He managed a smile and asked if she knew the area, offering to take her for a drink later when he finished, to show her around.
She thought it was probably an approach he regularly tried on young single female visitors. Although how many of them there would be in a year was questionable. She might have been up for it on another occasion but was genuinely feeling knackered and needed some sleep. She had done a bit too much partying before she left. Downstairs there was a small breakfast room and an even smaller bar. Everything she needed in fact. She initially paid for two nights in advance. It wasn’t the type of place that gave you credit.
Then she’d visited a local hairdresser and had her shoulder length blonde hair cut in a new shorter style. The male stylist had renamed her “darling” and asked several times in a very camp manner whether she was sure she wanted to cut so much off, which had made her smile. She hoped it wasn’t because of any concern on his part about his ability to do a good job. She thanked him for his concern and assured him she knew what she was doing. She’d decided on the flight over it was a good idea and once her mind was made up, it was rarely dissuaded from a course of action. Next she’d found a chemist selling a hair dye that would transform her into a brunette. The end result was that she doubted her own father would recognise her if they passed on the street. She liked her new image. Even if she said so herself, she looked hot!
The rest of the day had been spent in fruitless phone calls trying to establish where the filth was holding her brother. She hadn’t expected them to tell her but every time she irritated one of the coppers she spoke to, she saw it as a small victory. She was assured that her brother was in good health and being held at a secret location for his protection. She was eventually given the name of the solicitor appointed to defend him and had arranged
