car. Looks like they’re walking.’ Tony thought fast. Knowing his luck, they were off to the supermarket. But he was here now, and what else did he have to do?’
‘Let’s follow them.’
‘Are you serious, mate? We’re in this thing’—the driver indicated his cab—‘and they’re on foot.’
‘You’ll just have to go slowly then, won’t you? And make sure they don’t catch you at it.’
Luckily Martha and Eunice didn’t look back. The taxi remained at a safe distance behind them, trundling along at the speed of mud. When they reached the busy main road it got trickier, the cab driver having to stop and start and work hard not to get trapped in the bus lane.
‘I’m sure it’s supposed to be more exciting than this,’ he grumbled. ‘Tires squealing, handbrake turns, police joining in, all that malarkey.’
‘Think yourself lucky. When that happens,’ Tony pointed out, ‘the taxi driver tends to end up not getting paid.’
Martha and Eunice weren’t window-shopping. They didn’t dawdle; this was an outing with a destination at the end of it. Eventually turning off the main road, they made their way down leafy side streets. They weren’t speaking to each other, just walking side by side. Where they might be heading was anyone’s guess. A church meeting, perhaps. Visiting a friend. Keeping an appointment with the orthodontist.
‘There you go,’ said the cabbie as the two women finally turned into the driveway of a property set well back from the road.
Tony leaned forward. It was probably a dental surgery. As the taxi drew closer he saw the sign by the gate.
Stanshawe House Nursing and Residential Care Home, the sign announced.
‘Mystery solved.’ The cab driver sounded relieved; the last twenty-five minutes must have ranked among the most boring of his life. ‘They’re visiting some old granny.’
‘Maybe. Maybe not. They could be visiting anyone.’
‘Or else they work there,’ the cabbie amended. ‘Anyway, what now? Are you going in after them?’
‘No.’ Tony sat back in his seat; this wasn’t how he’d planned to spend the rest of the day. ‘Take me back to Primrose Hill.’
***
Ellie was still out at work. Back at the flat, Tony looked up Stanshawe House in the Yellow Pages and copied down the number of the place. Then he forced himself to sit and wait, because the one thing he couldn’t do was phone them while Eunice and Martha might still be there.
At five o’clock he made the call.
‘Oh, hello, I’m calling about one of your residents. By the name of Daines.’ It was a shot in the dark, but the only shot he had.
‘Sorry, who?’ The woman sounded distracted.
‘Daines.’
‘Could you give me the first name?’
Tony hesitated. No he couldn’t, because he didn’t know the first name. He didn’t even know if it was a male or a female. ‘Um, well…’
‘Oh, do you mean Henry Daines? Sorry, I’m new here, I’ve just found him on the list.’
Bingo. ‘That’s it. Henry.’ Tony wondered whether real detectives got sweaty palms when they had a breakthrough.
‘Right. And what is this about? Let me take a message.’
‘Oh, no message. I’m just calling to… find out how he is.’
‘Hang on, I’m just writing this down. Say again?’
God, she was dippy. ‘I haven’t seen Henry for some time. I heard that he’s in your care,’ said Tony. ‘Could you tell me why he’s with you?’
‘Ooh no, we’re not allowed to do that! Sorry! I tell you what, love, why don’t you contact his family? They’ll be able to give you all the information you need.’
Typical. ‘OK then, can you tell me who his family—’
‘Oh my goodness, now the red light’s started flashing! What does that mean? Sorry, love, I’m going to have to go, just call his family… OK, bye!’
***
At nine o’clock the next morning, Tony rang the bell and heard the sound of footsteps inside the house.
The topaz-yellow door opened and for the first time in a fortnight he came face to face with Martha. His heart twisted with longing; it was so wonderful to see her again and so unbearable to witness the look of anguish on her face.
He kept his voice low. ‘Are you on your own?’
She closed her eyes for a second, then nodded. ‘Oh, Tony, don’t do this. You shouldn’t have come here.’
‘I had to. You can’t just tell me to leave you alone and expect me to do it. I thought we had something…’
‘Please, no.’ Martha was shaking her head in despair, her fingers clutching the front of her raspberry-pink shirt.