his question as an invitation to come into the room, I crept closer to him and stood near his desk. ‘I didn’t do anything,’ I told him truthfully. ‘I didn’t know she couldn’t talk, so when she spoke to me, I just answered her, that’s all.’
‘You must have sparked something in her,’ he persisted. ‘Tara has spent the best part of the last two years taking Jadie to all sorts of therapists and none of them could get her to talk. Her teachers have given up trying and just let her sit in silence. Fortunately it doesn’t seem to have affected her ability to learn, but it can’t be doing much for her social skills.’
He rose from his chair, which was the only seat in the room and waved for me to sit down, but I shook my head. ‘I’m fine. I only came to ask if I could use the telephone. I need to contact the police and find out if anyone’s reported me missing. Someone must be looking for me.’
‘Yes, of course.’ He waved a hand towards the phone. ‘Go right ahead.’
I picked up the phone and held it to my ear. ‘There’s no dialling tone.’
‘What? Give it here.’ He leaned over and took the phone from me, putting it to his own ear. ‘Oh, great; the line’s dead. That’s probably why I can’t get a signal.’
‘I thought you said your farmer friend had rung you back this morning,’ I said, puzzled.
‘Yes, Adam rang about an hour ago and it was working fine then. Damn! Maybe there’s snow on the wires or something.’
I watched as he banged the phone down on its stand. ‘So now we’re completely cut off.’ He looked around the silent room as if the concept was totally new to him. ‘It’s an odd feeling, having no contact with the outside world.’
My insides churned with renewed panic. If we were completely cut off, there was no way I could find out who I was or where I had come from. I thought he should try being in my shoes; not only severed from the outside world but stranded in a stranger’s house with nothing to call my own but the clothes I was standing up in. ‘What about your mobile?’ I asked, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.
‘Mobiles don’t work here. We’re in a dip between two small hills and you can’t get a signal until you reach the top road,’ he explained. ‘It’s never really bothered me because we’ve got the house phone and the computer. As soon as I’m at the station or on the train to London, the mobile works OK. And you can get a signal up on the hill at the Jenkinses’ farm.’
I stared at him. Perhaps there were worse places to be completely stranded, but I still felt trapped. I realised I was utterly at his mercy for every little thing. ‘I haven’t even got a toothbrush.’ I tried to keep my voice from trembling.
‘I’m not sure that counts as a life-or-death emergency,’ he said with the beginnings of a smile. ‘I’m sure Tara will be able to find you one from her store of “just in case” items. Tara seems to live in fear of the world ending at any time and society being plunged into chaos.’
‘Tara seems very much part of the family,’ I put in tentatively. ‘She tells me she’s been here since Jadie was a baby.’
‘Yes, she was doing her nursing training back then, and came to work for us a few hours every week to help fund her course. Cheryl needed someone to help when we realised both children were ill, and we gradually relied on Tara more and more. She eventually gave up her training and her job at the hospital to work here full time. Tara might not be a fully qualified nurse but we couldn’t do without her, despite her little quirks.’ Vincent gave me a brief smile. ‘I’ll ask her about a toothbrush.’
I returned the smile, feeling a connection with him. He immediately broke eye contact and turned to rummage with some papers on his desk.
‘Thank you.’ I wondered vaguely why Tara hadn’t volunteered a toothbrush last night if she had a stock of things like that. But on second thoughts I couldn’t see her putting herself out on my behalf; I remembered the feeling I’d had that there was more to her devotion to this family than just her job and I risked another appraising look at Vincent as he fiddled with a pen. Tara had already admitted to loving Jadie as if she were her own child, and she certainly hadn’t liked either Maria or me getting anywhere near her employer. I wondered about the sacrifice she’d made in giving up her future as a qualified nurse to stay here. The sooner I was gone the better Tara would like it, of that I was in no doubt at all.
I excused myself from Vincent’s study and was making my way back down the corridor when a knock sounded at the front door. Hurrying into the living room, I looked about, expecting Tara to come grumbling or even Jadie to wander in to answer it, but there was no one. The knocking sounded again. I looked back towards Vincent’s study but he had closed his door and was obviously expecting Tara to see to it. At the third knock, I pulled back the draught-excluding velvet curtain and opened the door.
A man stood there holding a pet carrier, the cat peering out at me from behind the wire mesh. The caller was tall, maybe just over six foot, in his early thirties, bundled in a dark padded jacket, his extremities swathed in wool cap, scarf and heavy-duty gloves. He moved from one green-booted foot to the other, obviously trying to keep his feet from freezing. The neighbouring farmer, I assumed. Behind him stood a black and white Collie dog, mouth open and panting, despite the cold.
The man gave me a hesitant smile from deep brown eyes. He had a pleasant face—what I could see of it from under the cap—cheeks and nose reddened from the cold and with a rugged jaw line covered with what could be described as designer stubble.
‘Hi.’ His breath made clouds of vapour in the ice-cold air. ‘I’ve brought your cat.’
‘You must be, um…’ I paused, trying to remember the farmer’s name while the sound of feet pounded down the stairs behind me.
‘Sorry, I was making the beds, I only just realised…Adam!’ shrieked Tara, hurrying across the room to push me out of the way. She took one look at the pet carrier and gasped, ‘You can’t bring that thing in here! What were you thinking? I’ve told you Jadie can’t go anywhere near animals; it’ll bring on her asthma.’
There was a sudden embarrassed silence. Seconds stretched away as if we’d stepped into some sort of time warp. Tara had planted herself defiantly to guard the doorway, her lips pressed tightly together. The man called Adam hovered undecided, still shifting his feet on the partially snow-cleared path, and I just stood, grounded to the spot as tightly as if I’d been fixed there with super glue.
Jadie appeared and pushed her way past Tara and me to look into the cage. She reached out a finger and poked it through the mesh front of the box. The cat sniffed at her finger and then rubbed her pink-tipped nose against it.
The spell was broken as Tara yanked Jadie backwards. ‘Don’t touch it!’ she yelled. ‘Go and wash your hands and fetch your inhaler from the kitchen, quickly now.’
Adam had begun to back away from the door, still clutching the carrier. ‘I’m sorry, Tara, I forgot. I was just bringing the cat back to your guest; Vincent rang last night and it sounded pretty urgent.’
But Tara had followed Jadie to the kitchen and wasn’t listening. I watched the man take
