The man turned around to check who was calling. He was wearing a thick anorak, a woolly hat that had seen better days and his dark stubble gave his face a rough unfriendly look.
But he smiled and shouted back. “Need a ride?”
Cora reached the lock gate and stepped onto it. The man moved to the front of the boat, offered a hand and she jumped onto the wooden deck.
“Welcome to the Perfect Dreamer …”
“That’s very kind.” Cora managed to smile.
“There’s coffee downstairs … bring a couple of cups to the deck, will you? … It’ll be two sugars and lots of milk for me.”
She nodded, unfazed by the familiarity of the boat owner. The community of people who lived on narrow boats was carefree and welcoming. She had enjoyed taking pictures of buildings, waterways and structures she had encountered from their decks many times, and enjoyed their travellers’ stories.
Cora moved towards the rear of the boat. The jogger she had heard had almost reached the lock too. If he accelerated the pace, he might be able to board the small boat whether its owner obliged or not … and what if he had a gun?
She looked back. The woman at the helm had not moved from her position. She nodded to Cora. “Go on … don’t be shy … get yourself and his Lordship a coffee.” She eased the boat into the next leg of the Regents Canal as the pursuer reached the back gates.
He had slowed down, the grey hoodie covering his face revealing nothing of his features, but Cora was certain he was looking at her. He slowed down further to a trot, digging his hands into his sport jacket’s pockets.
Panic seized Cora. He was about to shoot her and the two people who had kindly offered her a lift. One hand retrieved an object from his pocket. A large mobile phone appeared and he started taking pictures.
The lock … the boat … Cora … this was intimidation.
Cora’s mouth ran dry and the tightening in her chest no longer caused by the running.
“Happens all the time.” The woman at the helm of the narrow boat nodded. “People can’t believe we can live a good life on such a small boat.”
Cora ignored the woman for a moment. She was not going to be intimidated if this was the game these people were playing.
“I have got a mobile too,” she muttered.
She took her newly acquired phone out of the pocket of the bomber jacket Nancy had lent her and aimed at the man. He had not expected this. Cora kept pressing the button. The jogger hesitated, turning back would give him away, walking further along the canal would give Cora plenty of time to take more photos. He stepped towards one of the small cafes alongside the towpath and disappeared into it without looking back.
Cora took a few pictures of the boat and its owners. She too did not want to give herself away. She disappeared below deck and returned with three mugs. The pursuer had not reappeared. She settled in the bow of the barge and pulled her mobile out again. It was time to make a much-needed phone call to apologise.
Chapter Four
“I’m in a cab … On my way to her loft.” Nancy was on a call to Pole, cursing herself for not having seen this coming.
She frowned. “I know, Jonathan … I’m not going to barge into a half-burnt building. I’ll wait for the officer you’ve assigned for her protection to arrive.”
Pole had been fast at rerouting the officer he had requested, from Nancy’s flat to his new destination. Still, it would take a good twenty minutes before he reached Cora’s building.
“Hang on … I have an incoming call …” The number did not correspond to a name, but she somehow hoped she knew who the caller was. “I’ll call you back shortly.”
Cora’s voice sounded contrite but also scared.
“I am goddam annoyed.” Nancy forced herself to sound severe. Had she been in Cora’s place she might have done just the same. Not a fact to be disclosed to her young friend though.
“On a narrow boat?” Nancy created a map of the area she knew so well in her mind. The Regents Canal was a good alternative for Cora to reach her flat without being detected.
How cunning.
“I’ll be at Hoxton Docks before you are. Call me when you arrive. We’ll drive to your flat and wait in the cab until the protection officer arrives.” Nancy insisted. “Yes, we will.”
Cora agreed without too much arguing.
“And please send me the pictures you took of the man who followed you.”
As soon as she received it Nancy opened the attachment. She flipped through the photos … tall, black and grey tracksuit, grey hoodie and gloves. Nancy inhaled, selected all of them, and forwarded them to Pole. There was only one word for it.
Menace.
The people behind all this must have found Cora after all and knew she had stayed at Nancy’s. They did not seem to be put off by the police being involved either.
Nancy bent a little forward to check progress on the road. The cabbie had taken the backstreets, zigzagging through small lanes and a couple of nondescript estates. For a moment she had almost lost track of where she was and doubt crept in … Was he going the right way?
They emerged near Haggerston Station and Nancy exhaled. Only a few more minutes and she would reach her destination.
She sat back in the seat of the cab, watching the people of East London going about their morning business. The cultural and racial mix made her pay more attention. Without doubt it was the reason she had chosen to live in North London, dismissing the more select areas of South Kensington and Chelsea.
She had been a well-respected, perhaps even
