But Mum’s thoughts had returned to Dad.
‘I wonder if I should have stayed another night? I don’t like leaving him . . .’
‘He’s in good hands, Mum,’ I said, grateful for the change of subject.
At home everything appeared to be under control. Mum asked Josh if he would like to stay for supper – her way of thanking him for providing a taxi service, I guessed, but Josh had a better idea.
‘I’ll treat you both to a pub meal,’ he offered.
Eating out isn’t really Mum’s thing, but when I added my weight to the argument – I hadn’t been able to get to the shops to buy food, and, in any case, the last thing she needed was to have to cook a meal – she agreed.
Though there could be no intimacy between Josh and me tonight, I really enjoyed the fact that Mum was with us. It had the comfortable feel of family, a sort of warm stability to anchor all the euphoria of the attraction that existed between us. Something else I’d never experienced in all the time I’d been with Tim. And when Josh kissed me goodnight, although I’d have liked more, I felt truly content. There would be other nights for us to be together. For starters we’d decided that tomorrow evening we’d go to the cinema to see The Best Marigold Hotel, and grab a bite to eat afterwards.
For now, I was perfectly happy that things were progressing exactly as they should.
Sunday morning. Mum said she’d wait for me to get back from my meeting with Alice so that we could go to the hospital together. I helped her with the various chores until it was time to get ready to go, and then set out for Stoke Compton.
The weather today was quite pleasant, with the promise of spring. Already the hedgerows were beginning to sprout green against the bare brown of winter, and clusters of daffodil spears had erupted in the banks along the stretch of main road on the approach to town. Soon, given some warm sunshine, they’d open into a sea of golden yellow.
This was a new development. I didn’t remember daffodils at the roadside when I was young. Someone must have planted bulbs there at some time, and they’d grown and spread with each passing year.
The sports centre was at ‘our’ end of town. I drove into the car park and found a space, surprised at just how full it was. Judging by the number of parents and children going in and out carrying sports bags there were probably swimming lessons this morning, and I imagined the gym and squash courts were well patronized too.
I waited in the car until just before eleven, then made my way to the children’s play area. This was also already busy, boys and girls of all ages rushing about between the swings, slides and roundabouts, whilst their parents sat on benches or stood beside the low perimeter fence watching them. One lone woman wearing a parka with the hood up was standing at the far end with her back to me, and I wondered if it might be Alice. But as I neared her I saw her drop a cigarette butt on the grass, tread on it and call to a boy who was on the climbing frame. Not Alice, then.
I walked all the way around the play park, but there was no sign of her. I stood watching the cars that were coming in, and the people emerging from them and walking towards the sports centre; Alice was not among them. I was beginning to get a bad feeling here. Had she changed her mind and decided not to meet me? Or was it possible there had been a misunderstanding and she was waiting for me in the cafeteria?
I headed for the sports centre. The main doors led directly into an open-plan area where there were tables, chairs and vending machines. This, too, was busy, most of the tables occupied and children rushing about between them. But I could see at a glance that Alice wasn’t here. The clock above the viewing window for the swimming pool showed eleven fifteen. It might, of course, be a few minutes fast, but the fact remained – Alice was late – if she was coming at all.
I went back outside, did another circuit of the playground, and waited by the path from the car park, my frustration growing with every passing minute.
She wasn’t going to come.
I waited until half past, and a bit beyond, just in case she’d thought she’d said eleven thirty, but without much hope, and at a twenty to twelve I eventually gave up.
I was cold – for all that the sun was shining, there was a definite nip in the air – and I was utterly fed up. To have had this carrot dangled in front of me and then snatched away was disappointing to say the least.
Alice knew something; she’d been on the point of sharing it with me. But – perhaps out of fear of losing her job – she’d changed her mind, and I had no way of knowing what it was she had been going to tell me.
But once again, everything was pointing to Compton Properties and Lewis Crighton. The answer to everything lay with him, I felt sure. And somehow I was going to find out what it was that he – and everyone around him – was hiding.