70
Saturday, 5 May 1012
The headlights flashed in her rear mirror. David took the Hogarth flyover. Stella flicked a short burst with her hazards in response and then joined the Great West Road. Moments later she was in Weltje Road. The digital display rolled to 9.33. David had not told her where he was going. What meeting was he having on a Saturday night? Stella looked up at the dark building. Built of dull grey stone, it was austere and forbidding. No one could live there. Her good mood waned. Whom was David seeing? She berated herself for being distracted; for caring.
Her phone was registering a signal; there were no messages from Jack. It could take a while for data to download. She texted him suggesting they meet at Terry’s. She would go there now and have a shepherd’s pie. It seemed a very long time since she’d eaten Mrs Barlow’s cake.
Meanwhile, Marian was a priority. She had sounded definite about meeting at Dukes Meadows so it was strange that she had not come. Stella did not have her mobile number. She was about to drive off when she remembered Marian had called her. She looked at her phone. Caller unknown. She must have been calling from Hammersmith Police Station.
Stella wanted to call David but that was ridiculous; he had just left her and he was clearly in a hurry. She could still feel his cheeks against hers, smell his aftershave, the silky feel of his hair through her fingers. He was better looking than David Bowie. She brought herself back to Marian Williams. What would Terry do? He had looked out for her. He would want Stella to check she was all right. Stella dialled Marian’s direct line at the police station.
‘Cashman speaking.’
‘Martin! I was trying for Marian Williams. It’s Stella Darnell.’
‘This is her extension. I’m chasing up paperwork and doubtless messing up Marian’s system.’ He laughed. ‘As I’ve got you, can I say what a great job your guys are doing?’
‘It’s about Marian.’ Stella was now seriously worried. ‘She asked to meet me after work. I don’t normally.’ She was flustered. ‘This is confidential… about her husband.’
‘Her husband?’
‘He prevented her coming tonight.’ She should have rung as soon as Marian didn’t turn up.
‘Stella, I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. Marian’s not married.’
Marian Williams had never said she was married. It was Stella who had decided the bruise was inflicted by a husband. ‘A partner then.’
‘No idea if she’s seeing anyone. Have to say it’s unlikely, Marian’s big love is her job. She didn’t front up this evening because her father was blue-lighted into A and E a couple of hours ago. She left me a message and I’ve rung the hospital, but they said she’d had to go to work. On a Saturday! Typical. I’m sending her packing when she appears.’ He hesitated. ‘As you’re her friend, I’ll give you her details. She’ll appreciate that you care.’
Stella supposed that she did care.
She squeezed the address and telephone number into today’s entry in her diary, next to the address where the Thorntons had lived, which Lucille May had given her. The two addresses were the same. Mallingswood House, King Street, London W6.
Stunned, Stella looked at the gaunt mansion looming in the sodium darkness. Mallingswood House. She was outside it now.