Becoming Strangers Page 7

  'Did she go off for the day then, off on a tour or something?'

  'No,' said George and his face was suddenly wretched, 'I left her in the room and I got a bit carried away with the day's events, sat out having lunch with a new acquaintance, had a few drinks, went back to the room in the afternoon, late, and I must have fallen asleep.'

  Steve checked his watch again; it was just after nine-thirty.

  'I just woke up,' said the old fellow.

  'Right. That's quite a while she could have been missing, then, Sir,' said Steve.

  'Yes. That's what I've been saying to your receptionist and the bellboys. Have they seen her, I've been asking them, and they keep telling me to come and see you. Why can't they just answer me?'

  The entire staffing shift had changed at five, thought Steve. He'd have to call some people. Lots of people. But first they should check the premises.

  'Now you're not to worry, Sir, we're going to sort this out, we're going to make a full search and concurrently,' he paused over the word, hesitant for a moment, but it held good, 'we'll make inquiries of all the staff here today.' Abner and Emma remained open-mouthed in shock and fear.

  'How old is she?' Emma asked George, turning in her seat.

  'Eighty-two.'

  Emma shook her head and made a moaning sound, 'So old and it's been so hot today.'

  'Thank you, Emma,' said Steve. 'Now, Mr Davis, let's get on with the plan of action. I think it would be best if you waited by the bar, had some supper, a bowl of soup or something.'

  'Don't manage me, son. Just get your arse in gear and make sure you get the police called in right away.'

  17

  IT WAS ADAM who put his hand on Jan's shoulder in the dining room. The Belgian couple sat at a table for four, on their own, near the door. Seeing Adam's eyes alert and quick about the room, Jan wiped his lips and put his napkin on his plate, pushing it aside. Annemieke laid her knife and fork to rest and put her hands to her face as Adam explained that he'd just heard George's wife had gone missing.

  'Yes, George, he has told me this already.'

  Adam shook his head. 'Poor old boy, he's got to be worried sick. I thought maybe you and I could see if we could help him.'

  'But of course,' said Jan pushing his chair back from the table, 'I am waiting for him to meet me here after he has seen the manager. He has been some time now.'

  'Terrible!' said Annemieke with a loud voice. One or two of the other guests looked over at the group. 'She is an old woman. It's already the evening! It's getting late! They need to find her.'

  Jan put his finger to his lips.

  'But the more people who know, the more can help look for her,' she said, looking about her.

  Adam looked at Annemieke and shrugged. Jan stood up.

  'Let me go and find out what we can do.'

  'I'll wait for you both at the bar,' she said, rising also.

  There was something comic about the members of the kitchen staff, wandering around the grounds of the hotel, looking in places that a human being could quite plainly not be, saying in stage whispers, 'Mrs Davis, are you there?' They had been advised not to alarm the other guests. A group of three of them came out of the sauna and one of them, in chef's pants, turned the key in the lock as they exited, shaking his head and pointing out the tool sheds for their next inspection.

  George was standing by the poolside, surveying the troops in action, a finger pushing his lower lip into his mouth, chewing.

  When Jan and Adam came up alongside him, he shook his head and said, 'Where the hell is she?'

  'Have they searched the beach?' asked Jan.

  'They're down there now,' said George. 'I've been down myself. They're looking everywhere but there's a limit to how far she could have got, she was no walker, her feet hurt just going down to the bus stop.'

  'Does she drive?' asked Adam.

  George shook his head.

  'Could she have gone out on a tour?'

  'She would have told me, but there's no note in the room, nothing.'

  'You ought to tell reception to put any calls for you through to the manager,' said Jan. George nodded but without conviction.

  'She wouldn't know how to use a phone.'

  'No, but other people do.'

  'Yes, someone might call for money. She might have been kidnapped, I can't help thinking, terrible things, I shouldn't have left her alone...'

  'No, no, I mean some friendly help, someone might call on her behalf.'

  George shook his head.

  'She's gone and I don't know where. It must be the first time in fifty-odd years I don't know where she is. It's peculiar.'

  Adam put his hand on George's arm as the manager and a group of men came into view from the direction of the beach. The manager was out of breath. He leaned forward with his hands on his hips and then raised his head and shook it, looking at George. Small drips of sweat fell from the sides of his face into the cotton of his shirt. He used his sleeve on his forehead.

  'What about the police?' said George.

  The manager looked at Adam and Jan, standing either side of George, for a moment.

  'That's our next step.'

  'Next step? I asked you to do it when we were back in your office.' George looked at Jan. 'That was an hour ago.'

  'There's not much they can do, though; they're not a very organized crew down there. I didn't want to overreact, till we'd had a good look about the place, you see.'

  'When an elderly woman is missing, there is no such thing as an overreaction,' said Jan.

  Now the Mancunian saw that all the buttons on the man's shirt were done up and he heard that his clipped accent was Northern European, Dutch or German, and he disliked him. He knew he would prove a thorn in his side. 'All right, Hans,' he thought to himself.

  'Believe me, we're leaving no stone unturned, Sir. Right now, my staff are still out looking in the grounds and I will make sure to extend the search to the local area. We are making phone calls. You need to understand the way a community of this sort operates, Sir, in order to understand that the police might not be the first choice. It's a word of mouth type place.'

  'I think that this is bullshit,' said Jan, 'you are protecting yourself. You don't want bad publicity, that is it.'

  George looked wildly between the two men. Adam, with his hand still on George's arm, spoke up, 'Let's just call the police, it can't do any harm.'

  The manager assented, 'Of course. No one's trying to protect themselves.' He shot a look at Adam.

  18

  THE LAST OF THE HUMMINGBIRDS was finishing its work for the day, inserting its perfect proboscis into the vase-like sheath of a hibiscus, hovering, quivering with pleasure. The air was murky with the scent of the aristocratic flowers that know only the satisfaction of drenched soils. The sprinklers twitched and twittered and rained silken droplets on to the petals of the flowers. It was as if the brazen red hibiscus flowers prostrated themselves to get wet—tongues out, shameless.

  Annemieke went to the bar with her Chinese shawl, red and black and gold, draped over one shoulder and one arm. Her steps down the pathway sounded brittle in her heels and her haste.

  There was a crowd there who had not yet gone in to supper. They had become a group over the last few days, she noticed, establishing a sort of gentry at the place. They were the people who wore Rolex watches and left Cartier accessories around the pool, sunglasses and bags. If one of them went to the bar he would certainly ask the others if they wanted anything, and such courteous acts persuaded them of each other's decency. She had been asked herself, that morning, by one of them whether she needed a drink. She had looked up from her book, and declined with a long smile, looking across at the mans wife, a blonde woman with a slightly hooked nose who liked to play fast and loose with her bikini top. (She whisked it away when she was tanning her back and replaced its twin triangles over her fried-egg breasts when she tanned her front. She fastened it only when she was on the move.)

  Now th
e same man and woman were 'hosting' a group of three couples, all in their forties, to which an English couple was attempting to adhere. She and Jan had met these two, Harry and Maxine from Surrey, the night before at the bar. Now they waved her into the circle, asserting something more than their right to belong by bringing her in, saying with excessive familiarity, 'Annie love, gin and tonic, am I right?'

  'A glass of white, thank you,' she said, turning as if she had just noticed them all, standing there in their white and gold with aftershave fighting perfume tooth and nail for air space. She bid the group all a good evening.

  'Jason Ryder,' said the American man who had offered her the drink that morning. 'Missy Ryder,' he added, stepping aside to reveal his wife.

  'How's the grub tonight?' Harry asked her, looking winningly at hook-nose's husband, giving him a wink in reference, one assumed, to some previous discussion of theirs.

  'I'm sure it's not up to New York standards again,' said Maxine, 'but you've got it all there, haven't you? Lucky.' The man called Jason demurred, looked noncommittal and put his hand down the back of his wife's dress.

  Annemieke spoke, 'I could not eat actually, Harry.' Immediately, the women turned towards her. A certain class of women, as she knew, fall over themselves to be the nicest person at any gathering. 'One of the ladies staying at the resort has gone missing. Possibly kidnapped, possibly abducted. It's been twenty-four hours now and they're not holding out much hope.'

  There was a level of surprise that was exceeded by its demonstration.

  'You're joking me,' said Harry.

  'I don't believe it,' said his wife, looking at him with wide eyes. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards him. Their eyes were fixed on Annemieke. She was trying not to smile. Sometimes she got a little carried away.

  'I thought I should warn you all to be careful. I'm afraid one has to be prepared for the worst news.'

  The American couple looked at each other.

  'What are they doing about it? The management,' asked Jason Ryder.

  'Is it that lady who eats supper with the young...?' his wife began.

  'No, not her, actually it happens to be the wife of a friend of ours, which is why I'm so upset by it, they're good people, so...' she looked about her, 'decent, simple people.'

  The women shook their heads.

  'That elderly couple,' Jason's wife said, nodding, 'I saw you dining with them. Such a genuine couple.'

  'They must be in their eighties,' said the other man.

  'Well, we must see what we can do,' said Jason, turning to his American friends.

  The night had closed in on the bar and the barman was appointing it with several candles in jars as he'd been instructed by the manager. 'Think experience,' he'd been told, candlelight was tasteful, as opposed to dimmer switch operated lighting which was crass and could be operated wilfully. 'Think romance.' The previous barman had been very quick on the switch, going from dim to glare according to his own whims. The new barman would not make the same mistake. The guests stood with their backs to the bar to look at the illuminated blue water of the man-made pool, sipping on their drinks, murmuring to each other. Annemieke alone kept her face angled towards the gardens behind the bar. Her features were touched by candlelight. One could see that her brow was troubled, but otherwise she was as still as the flowers that settled, untroubled by bee, butterfly or humming bird.

  19

  JAN TOOK GEORGE to the bar for coffee, one black, one milky, and stood apart from the group. They were waiting for the manager to come and tell them what news he had. He had said he would meet them there at ten.

  Annemieke excused herself and went over to the two men.

  'Any news?'

  The men shook their heads. Jan explained that George had given a full statement to a police chief who'd come out with two other policemen.

  They appear to be taking it very seriously.' He said this for George's benefit, recalling that the chief had been forced to press hard on his triplicate pad as he took down the main details and that the purpose of the other men with him seemed to have been to express concern over the state of his Biro. The chief had offered George his assurance that they would do their best.

  This is a small island, Sir,' he'd said to George, 'everybody know everybody.'

  'Well, it sounds like they'll do what they can,' said Annemieke, touching George's hand briefly.

  George was grinding his teeth and looking into the gloom of the gardens, through and beyond the bar. He nodded.

  'Where's Adam?' she asked Jan.

  'He's gone back to his apartment.'

  Annemieke raised her eyebrows and clucked loudly.

  To find out whether we can use his landlord's car tonight.'

  'Why, what are you planning?'

  'Well, we're going to go and look for her.'

  'Is that smart?'

  'We need to do something,' said Jan quietly. 'Put yourself in his place.'

  'I'm just thinking that we don't want to lose two more people. You're old men,' she whispered, looking askance as if it was a secret.

  'Don't be ridiculous.'

  The Americans, who had moved closer to the three of them and stood patiently by in recognition of their fellows' proximity to the epicentre of the events, now began to agitate.

  'Excuse me,' Jason said, 'but we understand you may have a situation and we would like to offer to help.'

  Jan turned to him and shook his head. With his heavy upper lip and hangdog solemnity he looked like an old and sickly cow refusing a handful of grain, Annemieke thought.

  'It's very good of you,' she said, and, turning to Jan, 'I explained to Mr Ryder and his friends what was happening. I thought we could use all the help we could get.'

  George did not seem to be listening; his hands were splayed on the bar, supporting his upper body with his wrists.

  Jason started to explain that the American Consulate on the island might be of use to them. 'They'll see that the American citizens here are affected by this and they'll act, I can assure you.'

  Jan looked pointedly aside.

  'Let's be frank, this situation affects the community of this resort. It's potentially serious. For all of us. Our wives. We ought to have been advised of it by the management already. We're all involved,' Jason said, frowning. Jan remained expressionless, immovable. George did not turn around. Annemieke was nodding with sympathetic eyes, her eyebrows together.

  'I'm not impressed with the management here. It's totally hands-off if you get my drift. Where is the guy when you need him? Talk about a permanent vacation. I think we could put a little heat on. I play golf, back home, with the chairman of the group that owns these hotels.'

  'Well, I think that would be a great help,' said Annemieke.

  Jason took his cellphone from his pocket and walked away a few steps saying, 'Sure, we'll get on to it.'

  At that moment Bill Moloney, his sunburn obvious even in the near dark, came up to the group and stood on its edges, waiting. He looked as though he was about to say something, but seeing Jan with his back to them all, a hand now on George's shoulder, he withdrew. Annemieke was pleased. She said to herself, 'So much he cares, the great idiot.'

  Standing aside gazing towards the uniform black of sea and land and sky, George was saying to Jan, 'She'll have to be scared witless, mate, now that it's dark. What does she know of the dark, we're always in bed asleep by nine these days. She'll be tired.'

  'Someone will be helping her to get back here.'

  'What if she has been kidnapped? I heard them American women saying that's what they thought too.'

  'Oh nonsense, how often does that happen?'

  'I don't know.'

  'Well, it does not. These islands live and breathe tourism; every single person here makes their living through it. It's too small, George.'

  'But we was warned. That group were saying that first night not to go out the hotel. They must have been here a few times.'

  'Well, so
have I, in the region at least, and I know this is nonsense.'

  'Do you think she's still alive, Jan?' he said, looking at his hands and exhaling through his nose.

  'Yes, I do. Of course I do.'

  He felt a hand on his back and became irritable thinking that it boded more offers from Annemieke's American friends. He turned round to see Adam standing behind him, his shoulder-length hair tied back.

  'Ready when you are, chaps,' he said, showing them a bunch of keys.

  'Good man,' said George.

  'My landlord was using his van, but that big fellow who's staying here, what is he, Irish, he lent me his hire car. Just heard me asking reception if there was a car I could have to take you two about and he gave me these. Says it's got a full tank.'

  'No news,' said Burns, approaching the bar.

  'Then we go out in the car, now,' said Jan.

  'Do you know your way around? I'd come with you but it's best I stay here to field any information or calls.'

  'Sure. We have a guide,' Jan looked at Adam, 'and we have a car.'

  'Oh good. I'd give you one of our vans but our drivers are off duty and it's not insured...'

  'At last the great man himself arrives.' Jason interrupted, stepping forward. 'Mr Burns, I want to be assured, I want to have your word, that your company is doing everything it can to resolve this situation. I'm a personal friend of your chairman, Mr Cohen, and I know he'd want you to be going to the greatest personal lengths to find this lady. There are a lot of eyes on you here,' he added.

  'Important ones,' put in the brown-haired man.

  'I am doing my best, Sir,' said Steve. 'There's a woman missing here. That gets all of my attention.'

  Later he would think of many other things he could have said, things that would have better asserted his own dignity. He couldn't forget that he'd used the word 'Sir' and he kicked himself for it. It was fine used with an Englishman who would know its inherent sarcasm, but an American might take it literally. If each of us has his or her own special conceit, that lie which allows us to do our job, Steve Burns's was that he was not a flunky, not a corporate brown-noser, he was his own man.