the deep voice of the man she’d met at Mrs St Aubyn’s house over a month ago, but his recorded tone was civilised, sober and laconic. ‘Linus Hunt. Sorry I’m not around. I’ll get back to you when I can.’
Red hesitated, not sure whether or not to leave a message. It suddenly occurred to her that she knew nothing about his marital status, although she presumed that he was single. She decided to try again later in the hope that he would be in and put down the receiver.
She made two more calls: the first to Jenny, telling her what had happened, and the second to her date for that evening, cancelling the plans they’d made to go to see a film and afterwards have supper. He wasn’t too happy about it, but when Red said that he could come and sit with her in the hospital waiting area he hastily declined.
For the next three hours Red waited for Mrs St Aubyn to go to surgery to have her ankle set, reading magazines that were ages old, drinking cups of weak coffee and phoning Linus Hunt every hour, without any luck. Finally Mrs St Aubyn was taken to a ward and Red was allowed to see her for a few minutes.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked gently.
‘My head aches so much,’ was the fretful reply. ‘Did you call Linus?’
‘I tried several times, but he wasn’t home.’
‘Not home?’ The older woman frowned, obviously still muzzy. ‘Oh, of course, I’d forgotten. He’s been away again. But he should be back soon.’ She lifted strained eyes to Red. ‘Look at this terrible nightdress they’ve given me to wear. It’s dreadful. It rubs me and the tapes are broken.’
‘Would you like me to bring you in some of your own things?’
‘Oh, would you? Yes, please. I feel so uncomfortable.’
‘I’ll bring them in first thing in the morning.’
‘And my face lotions and make-up. And a hairbrush.’
Red smiled at her. ‘You must be feeling better already. Here’s your bag. I’ll need your house keys.’
‘You find them.’
‘OK.’
‘Don’t say OK,’ Mrs St Aubyn automatically reproved her.
A nurse came up. ‘I think the patient had better sleep now.’
Straightening, Red prepared to leave, but Mrs St Aubyn grasped her sleeve. ‘Will you do something for me?’
‘Yes, of course—if I can.’
‘Will you stay at my house tonight? In case Linus calls. He’ll be so worried if I’m not there. Please say you will.’
Red hesitated, not at all keen on the idea, but, looking at her tutor’s drawn and pleading face, knew that she really had no choice. ‘Yes, O—All right, I’ll stay there.’
‘Thank you. You’re so very kind.’ The grip on her sleeve relaxed and almost at once Mrs St Aubyn’s eyes fluttered shut as she drifted into a much needed sleep.
It was dark and late when Red came out of the hospital. Not fancying the idea of waiting around for a bus, she took a taxi back to the house in Pimlico.
She went first to the neighbour’s house, told him about Mrs St Aubyn’s operation and also that she would be spending the night in her house, just in case he saw lights on there and called the police. After the trouble she’d been to in climbing through the window, she didn’t want the police breaking down the door to arrest her for burglary.
Letting herself in the front door, Red stood for several minutes in the hall. It seemed strange to be alone in the house, and even stranger to look at the stairs and realise that just a few hours ago Mrs St Aubyn had been lying there in pain and fear.
What if Red hadn’t happened to drop by? Tomorrow was Saturday, when there wouldn’t have been any students coming to the house, and her boyfriend was away, so the poor woman could have been left lying there for days. Red shivered, dropped her bag on the hall chair and went to look for the kitchen, deciding that what she needed was some good hot food.
She found eggs and cheese and made herself an omelette which she took into the sitting room to eat, turning on the television set for company, watching the latest classic serial and wishing that she was in it.
After she’d eaten she turned off the sound and picked up the phone again. By now she knew Linus Hunt’s number off by heart, but there was still no answer and she didn’t leave a message, seeing no point in doing so at that time of night.
Then she called Jenny to tell her that she wouldn’t be coming home and listened in fascination as Jenny told her all about an incident that had happened that night at the bistro where they both worked as waitresses, when two men had come to blows over a girl and nearly wrecked the place.
‘And I missed it all,’ Red wailed.
‘Will you be OK there alone?’ Jenny asked. ‘I’ll come over, if you like.’
But her voice was already sleepy after her night’s work, so Red said, ‘No, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow afternoon.’
Going upstairs, Red peeked into the rooms. What was obviously Mrs St Aubyn’s bedroom was furnished in exquisite taste—feminine but not overdone. It also contained a king-sized double bed. There was a bathroom and another, smaller bedroom on the same floor, the bed already made up.
Red found a nightdress that fitted quite well but was too short on her, used the bathroom, and got thankfully into the guest bed. She lay awake for a while, feeling as if she was in some strange hotel where she was the only guest, listening to the unfamiliar noises of the house and the quietness of the road outside, but it had been a long day and she soon fell asleep.
It was almost four hours later when some noise penetrated her sleep, bringing her immediately and joltingly awake, her nerves quivering in primitive alarm. She lay still in the darkness, listening, trying to convince herself that it was nothing. Then she heard the slight creak of a stair. But there was no light showing under the door. Someone was creeping up the stairs in the dark!
Red’s first thought was to find something to defend herself with, but the room was unfamiliar and she would have to turn the light on to search around. And if she turned the light on the intruder would know there was someone there, would be warned.
If she stayed quiet in the dark he might go right by. But that would be a cowardly thing to do; she ought to shout and scream, make all the noise she could so that the burglar would turn and get the hell out of there. Easing herself up in the bed, Red searched for the switch on the bedside lamp.
The footsteps were still coming up the stairs, very quietly but very steadily. It occurred to Red that the burglar must have a torch to walk that confidently, but she could see no light flickering under the door.
The burglar reached the landing and started to cross it. Red slid out of bed, found the light switch and turned it on, just as the door of her room opened. She grabbed up a vase and whirled to face the intruder, a tall, powerful man dressed in black, his hand going up to shield his eyes from the light.
Red
