‘You haven’t noticed anything stirring at the back of your mind?’
‘I wish I could say I had. You said my real name is Rosamund. I didn’t even know that.’
While the tea was brewing, they sat on two stools facing each other across the kitchen table. People with impaired sight or hearing sometimes develop their other senses more sharply. Rose, deprived of so much of her memory and experience, found she was becoming acutely observant of the way others behaved towards her. She could detect insincerity as if with a sixth sense. For example, she had found Imogen, the social worker, friendly, but unwilling to get involved beyond the limits of her job. She carried out her duties without really throwing herself into them whole-heartedly. Ada, on the other hand, had come across as totally committed, dependable and sympathetic, however brash her utterances were.
She could tell that Doreen’s motives were more complex. Doreen had a strong, honest concern, though it came out less obviously than Ada’s. Maybe that was only the difference between family and friends. No doubt Doreen was trying to reconcile different loyalties, to their mother, her partner, Jerry, and to Rose. The important thing, Rose concluded, was that Doreen clearly had her welfare at heart. She might appear manipulative, bossy, even, but she had gone to all the trouble of arranging this flat, and it was done with Rose’s interests clearly in mind.
She was trying her best to warm to Doreen.
‘Will I meet Jerry soon?’
‘Jerry?’ There was hesitation, as if Doreen’s mind had been on other things. ‘You threw me for a moment. It won’t be a case of meeting him. He knows you almost as well as I do.’
‘Sorry. You’ll have to make allowances. Remind me what he’s like.’
Doreen blushed a little. ‘I think he’s special, or I wouldn’t have moved in with him and shocked the family. They’ve accepted him now, even Mother.’
‘Good-looking, then?’
‘I think so, anyway.’
‘You live at his place?’
‘Yes, but we don’t crowd each other. Today I told him I didn’t want him with me when I called at the Social Services place. Jerry can be a bit abrupt with people like that. It called for some tact and persuasion, if you know what I mean. So he’s doing his own thing, which probably means test-driving a new car at some posh garage. You’ll see him soon enough.’
‘Tonight?’
‘I thought you’d want an evening at home. Nice bath, chance to put your feet up and relax.’
Rose took this to mean that her sister wanted dinner out somewhere nice with her partner. And why not? This was their short break in Bath.
‘About tomorrow,’ she thought it right to say. ‘If you two want to spend the day together, sightseeing or something, I don’t need to tag around with you. There are plenty of things I can do.’
Doreen ventured no immediate response. She went to the fridge and took out a carton of milk. ‘Is semi- skimmed all right?’
‘Fine.’
When the tea was poured, Doreen said, ‘Look, I don’t want to alarm you or anything, but you’ve got to be on your guard.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh, come on, darling. Someone tried to force you into a car yesterday.’
So much had happened since that Rose had put it out of her mind. She shrugged and said dismissively, ‘I don’t know what that was about. You get some weirdos these days. I suppose he saw my picture in the paper. He knew my name, the name I’m using, anyway.’
‘Good thing your friend Ada was there to help you.’
‘And how!’
‘I think you should keep your head down now,’ Doreen continued the sisterly pressure. ‘That’s why I didn’t tell the social worker exactly where we’re staying. I told her Bathford, which is on the other side of town. You don’t want too many people knowing.’
Rose didn’t have much patience with the cloak and dagger stuff. ‘I don’t think Imogen goes round talking to all and sundry about her clients.’
‘All I’m saying is better safe than sorry. You’ll be all right here. You wouldn’t think of going out tonight, would you?’
Rose giggled at that. ‘It isn’t the back streets of Cairo out there.’
‘But you’ll stay in? Promise me.’
‘Your hotel is nearby, isn’t it?’
‘Hotel?’ Doreen said with a pained expression. ‘I keep telling you it’s only a private boarding-house. Yes, it’s very near, just around the corner in Marlborough Street, in fact. What’s that got to do with it?’
‘What’s it called if I need you?’
She was evasive. ‘Look, you won’t need me if you do as I say and stay in tonight. I’ll show you where we’re staying tomorrow.’
‘Why the mystery?’
‘No mystery at all. I feel responsible for you, right? Look, this may sound high-handed, but I think I’d better hold on to the keys of this place. Then you won’t be tempted to go for an evening walk if you know you wouldn’t get back in.’
Rose reddened and said, ‘That’s absurd.’
‘Not after all the trouble I’ve been to for your sake, it isn’t.’
They finished the tea. At Doreen’s suggestion, they explored the central heating system and succeeded in getting the boiler going. Rose, trying her best to be appreciative, said she was looking forward to a bath.
Before leaving, Doreen showed her the spyhole in the door and urged her to use it if anyone called. ‘It should only be me, anyway, and I won’t be back before ten tomorrow. Don’t open the door to anyone else, will you?’
Rose assured her that she would not.
‘If your bell rings, ignore it. Nobody knows you’re here except for me.’
‘Hadn’t I better have the keys? What if there’s a fire?’
‘You open the door and walk out. You don’t need a key to get out.’
‘All right.’
‘And there’s a chain on this door.’
Rose rolled her eyes upwards. ‘All these precautions. I should be so lucky – strange men beating a path to my door.’
‘Use it. Promise.’
Reluctantly, she said, ‘All right, I promise.’ She smiled at Doreen. ‘Just my luck.’
‘What’s that?’
‘To have Bossyboots for a sister.’
At about this time a woman called at the Central Police Station at the top of Manvers Street and handed over a sheet of paper. She explained that she was from the Tourist Information Office and she had been asked to translate something a German woman had wanted to tell Detective Inspector Hargreaves. It was about an incident in Bathwick Street the previous day. The desk sergeant glanced through it, thanked her, and had it taken upstairs to Julie’s desk.
The same evening a phone message reached the sergeant with responsibility for missing persons. He noted the details and turned to the computer operator on the adjacent desk. ‘When you get a moment, you can close the file on this one. She’s one of the Harmer House women, the one found wandering on the A46 suffering from loss of memory. Her family have surfaced now. Taking her back to Hounslow, where she lives. The name is Rosamund Black.’
‘Nice when there’s a happy ending,’ the computer operator said.
Fourteen
