New Directions (25)

There was still time to drop in on Ted and Lucy. Spinning a yarn about doing some measuring up – as I’d hoped – we got chatting.

‘The Duke dropped in yesterday,’ Ted informed me.

I nearly choked on the coffee Lucy brought me. ‘I wouldn’t have thought he’d lower himself.’

‘No, he’s alright. Bit of an odd ball, he does come over a bit upper-crust, but he’s looked after us pretty well. He holds the lease on this place, kept it from going under once. He believes his village must have a viable pub.’

‘What did he want?’ The news stirred the mud in my skull.

‘Nothing, comes from time-to-time. I think he likes it when all the regulars are in. Always buys a round – sees himself as a father figure.’

‘Did he ask about the cellar?’ I regretted asking even before I finished the question.

Squeezing his old face into a frown Ted shrugged, ‘No he wouldn’t do that. He knows I keep a well-stocked cellar.’

‘I meant the one in Celia’s place. He seemed very interested in it the other day.’

‘Cellar? I’ve never seen a cellar in there, but I s’pose we wouldn’t. We’ve only been inside a few times. If Celia was out we just left the stuff in the kitchen.’

‘The door to the cellar’s in the kitchen. You can’t miss it.’

‘What the one on the left? I nodded, ‘We thought that was the pantry.’

‘Wendy would’ve known about it,’ Lucy called out from behind the curtain. Poking her head round she went on, ‘knew the place inside out she did. Been going in there for years. We only started helping out after she left.’

‘Oh, it’s just that we found Celia locked in the cellar when she was attacked.’ I said hoping to answer the question I was sure Ted was about to ask. ‘What happened to Wendy after the . . . post office problem?’

‘Not sure, she talked about going to stay with a sister to sort things out. Place called Stony or some such – near Milton Keynes. I have no idea if she’s still there. She never said much, too shell-shocked. We’ve never heard from her since.’

Finishing my coffee, I said, ‘It’s a tough life sometimes. I’d better be off or I’ll be late for visiting time.’

I left the White Lion with an envelope addressed to Celia containing Ted and Lucy’s best wishes inside a Hallmark with an image of an elegant bouquet of pink roses on the front.

When you approach the Royal Berkshire Hospital from London Road the massive Greco-Roman entrance looks more like the Bank of England or a museum – which part of it is – but the main entrance these days is in a nondescript lane sandwiched between an ugly multi-story carpark and a slab of a two floor 60’s block painted white.

I knew my way from my car resting on the fourth story through bland buildings and interconnected pathways to the ward with Celia’s room. The moment I walked in a chubby nurse accosted me, politely demanding what I wanted.

When I told her she frowned and looked at me kind of sideways. ‘Are you a relative, sir?

‘I’m a friend.’

‘I’m sorry, but we’ve been asked to only allow relatives to see Miss Harrington-Bow.’

Visions of Celia lying in bed surrounded by beeping machines and worried faced doctors watching her breathing her last tunnelled into my imagination. I felt a cold sweat forming up my spine.

‘Is she in a bad way? I heard myself blurting

The chubby nurse, who I realised was very pretty looked around. ‘Well she is recovering from her injuries, which are quite extensive, but that is all I can tell you.’

Deciding which option I chose charm rather than intimidation. ‘Miss, I’m rather puzzled, I know the lady very well and as I understand she has no living relatives.’

‘Well, I—‘

‘I’m very concerned about her. You see I was one the witnesses who found her when she was attacked.’ I fumbled in my wallet hoping to find the card Dev gave me. ‘We are all very worried about her,’ I said handing her my fake card attempting a concerned rather than smarmy smile. ‘She’s been our tenant for many years now.’

Clearly confused, Chubby-face stuttered ‘I’m sorry but the gentleman said only relatives and police.’

‘The gentleman?’

In a half whisper she leant forward, ‘The Duke of Swindon.’

‘Oh, Gerald!’ concocting a fake guffaw, ‘Hah-hah, I might have known. He’s an old friend of our company. He knows it’s very important we are aware of Celia’s condition.’ I nodded confidentially. ‘He tends to exaggerate at times, everything is in order.’ I place a respectful hand on her arm. ‘It’s OK, don’t concern yourself.’

Chubby-face who’s name according to the chart attached to Celia’s bed was Annaleen, relaxed, stood aside and warned. Miss Harri—

‘Bow, she prefers just Bow.’

—erm, Miss Bow is still very tired; the painkillers. She has been through a lot. Please try not to stay too long.