was no way her mother could be young Freda. It made no sense at all. And as for doing such a despicable thing to a man … No, it simply hadn’t happened. Her mother was not that person.
So what the hell was Freda’s game?
What was she expecting her ghostwriter to do now?
Where had she gone?
What was taking her into town?
Joely tried clearing her head to make herself think more rationally. The accusation about her mother was nonsense, she was in no doubt of that, but there had to be a purpose behind it. Freda clearly had something in mind, so now it was Joely’s job to figure out what it was …
No, actually, all she had to do was get the heck out of here. This project, this game or whatever it was had gone too far and she really didn’t want to be a part of it any more.
Closing down her laptop, she picked up her notebook and recorder and made her way down to the library. She saw right away that the door to the kitchen staircase was closed, and her heart gave an uneasy twist, for she remembered propping it open with English Medieval Literature – which was now cast aside further along the floor.
She tried the door and felt another stab of fear when it wouldn’t open. This surely had to be a mistake. Freda wouldn’t have shut her in here on purpose, it would be an insane thing to do, and yet there was no getting away from the fact that the makeshift doorstop wasn’t where she’d left it and the latch on the stairway door was firmly shut.
‘Freda!’ she shouted, directing her voice down to the kitchen. ‘Freda! Let me out of here.’
There was no sound from anywhere else in the house.
She pummelled the door’s solid wood panels, battered the latch with a heavy book, but it wouldn’t budge.
She looked at her phone, but it was useless.
Her mind spun with disbelief and horror as she tried to think what to do.
Suddenly remembering the hidden door in the bookcase she began pressing random volumes and panels to activate the mechanism, but nothing happened. She tore books from shelves searching for hinges, a concealed handle, some sort of button, but she could find none.
‘Freda!’ she yelled, banging a fist on the wall. ‘Let me out of here! This is crazy.’
She waited for an answer but beyond her own breath everything remained silent. She stared at the door to the kitchen again, still hardly able to accept that it wouldn’t open, then a sound reached her from the next room and she spun around.
‘Freda,’ she called out. ‘Are you in there? Please let me out. Whatever you …’
Suddenly music began to play, an orchestra swelling out of the silence so loudly that it drowned her cries. She couldn’t even hear her hands thumping the wall.
‘Freda! Stop this, please! I’m begging you.’
Realizing from the volume that there must be hidden speakers in this room she ran up to the writing room and closed the door.
She was breathing hard, too hard. She was also shaking as much in fear as in shock. The music was just as loud in here, but she couldn’t see any speakers.
She needed to stay calm.
This was obviously some sort of temporary madness on Freda’s part. It would be over soon, all she had to do was block her ears, hold onto her sanity and wait it out.
‘Thank you, Bill,’ Freda said as her gardener-cum-chauffeur opened the car door for her to get out. ‘I’ll only be a moment.’
Leaving him waiting at the kerb she went into the post office and handed over a small parcel for special delivery, paid what was required and returned to the car.
‘Everything all right?’ Bill asked as she got into the front passenger seat.
‘Indeed it is,’ she confirmed.
He drove away and five minutes later they came to a stop outside the railway station.
‘You don’t need to help me any further,’ she told him, as he came to open the door. ‘I can manage.’
Lifting her small suitcase from the boot he said, ‘It’s platform two that you want. The train’s due in about ten minutes, so enough time to get your ticket.’
She smiled gratefully, and took her suitcase. ‘Enjoy your holiday in Spain,’ she smiled. ‘Brenda will enjoy the break, I’m sure.’
‘It’s very generous of you …’
‘Think nothing of it,’ and patting his arm she started into the station.
Joely kept checking her phone, but as yet she’d been unable to