Authors: Andrea Hughes
I felt my face redden with hot blood. My God, he’ll send himself broke if he stays there much longer.
“Anyway,” Frank continued, “I didn’t notice the name of the place, I think I was still reeling from the shock of all that fluorescent pink, but I did get the impression that this hotel was heavily into fluoro colours.”
“I don’t know much about the hotels around here but mum might,” I replied thoughtfully. “I’m sure a place like that would stick out like a sore thumb. Thank you so much, Frank.”
“My pleasure. Kate, you are looking after yourself aren’t you?”
“I’ll be much better once I find Kensie and Tom. Don’t worry,” I promised, “I won’t do anything to hurt our baby. Frank, I have to go –”
“Wait! I’m coming over there.”
I grimaced as I imagined my father’s reaction when the real-life, flesh and bones Frank turned up on his doorstep. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t care. I’ll be there soon so don’t go anywhere without me.” And with that, the line went dead.
Striding briskly back through the house, I finally found my parents hidden away in their office. “Fluoro!” I announced, slamming into the room.
Mum looked up, startled, and dropped the pile of papers she was holding. White sheets fluttered everywhere and Dad ran to help her pick them up. “Fluoro what?”
I briefly explained what Frank had told me.
Still looking miffed, Dad put the pile of papers onto the table. “Doesn’t ring a bell,” he muttered, “are you sure this man knows what he’s talking about?”
“Yes,” I replied shortly, “mum, what about you?”
Mum looked thoughtful then turned and started flicking through the pages of the local newspaper.
I peered over her shoulder, “what is it, mum?”
Reaching the final page, Mum pushed the newspaper away and grabbed the weekend feature magazine, thumbing through the pages once more.
“Mum?”
“There!”
Moving beside my mother, I looked at the page. “New hotel doing roaring trade,” I read. “In the centre of town, opposite the pier stands a nondescript, drab building. Built in the nineteen forties, this structure was once described by the Prince of Wales as the ugliest in town. How things change.” Skimming quickly through the article, reading under my breath, I came to the paragraph my mother had obviously been thinking of. I read it out loud.
“A lick of whitewash on the exterior of the building has turned a one-time eyesore into an attractive addition to our historic town, turning frowns into smiles and creating yet another high class establishment, perfect for the upcoming tourist season. But that’s not all. Step inside this once crumbly, run-down structure and a veritable smorgasbord of colour will entertain you. Designers, decorators and owners have gone all out to create an experience worthy of rivalling those seen in the psychodelic sixties. Pinks, yellows and purples dominate this surreal interior, interspersed with a splash of orange and red. Not a dull wall to be seen.”
I turned excitedly to my mother, “this has got to be it. Who else would have a fluorescent pink brochure.”
Reaching across, Mum flicked over the page to reveal a photograph of the interior of the hotel.
“Bloody hell,” I took a step back and squinted at the picture. “They weren’t exaggerating, were they.”
Dad grunted, “hope Will brought his sunglasses.”
I snorted in amusement, “I’ll go and give them a call. I’ve got a good feeling about this.” I felt my muscles begin to relax. It had been a big day, long and tough.
Thank God it was all about to come to an end; I was going to find my children. And Will had one hell of a lot of explaining to do.
5 January
I leaned back in the chair, eyes closed, breathing deeply and steadily. In through the nose, out through the mouth, or should that be in through the
mouth
and out through the
nose
? What did it matter? It wasn’t bloody working.
I am not relaxed.
Opening my eyes, I punched down hard on a cushion; again and again; punching my damn husband; bloodying his nose, blackening his eyes? Maybe I was hitting him where it really hurt; rendering him infertile. Right now I didn’t care. A movement caught my eye and I glanced up, mid-punch to see Mum standing in the doorway, “not good news then?”
I scowled. “He’d been staying there, but he’s checked out. I missed him by that much.” I held finger and thumb a millimetre apart in illustration.
“Were the kids with him?”
“Receptionist said he went straight to his room, came back down five minutes later with his bags, threw her the key-card and ran out. He had a rental car so he could have left them in there while he packed.”
Mum nodded. “So, what now? Where would he take them?”
“Beats
me.” I was seriously frustrated now. “I tried calling the airline but they couldn’t tell me anything.”
“The airline? Why?”
I looked up at my mother, tears threatening. “He might take them away, mum. He might take them back to Australia; without me.”
Just then the doorbell rang and I sprung to my feet, pushing past my mother in my urgency. “Maybe that’s him now.” I flung the door open. “Where the bloody hell have you been?”
“I got here as quickly as I could.”
“Frank.” I could sense my mother behind me and took a deep breath, pulling Frank through the door. I hadn’t realised before just how much I was beginning to rely on him; his strength and perseverance, his calmness and solicitude. His love. The disappointment of not being greeted by two happy little faces was almost overshadowed by the enormous relief I felt at seeing Frank’s face
“Heard from them?”
I shook my head, fighting back tears. “I found the hotel from the information you gave me but he’d already checked out.”
“Damn.”
“So I tried the airline. I thought he might be trying to take them back to
Australia.”
“And?”
“Passenger confidentiality,” I sneered. “They wouldn’t tell me anything. Not even general information on whether he’d tried to change his ticket.”
A small sound came from behind and I turned to find Mum waiting patiently, an expectant look on her face.
“Oh, mum. Of course, um, this …” I waved vaguely in Frank’s direction, “is my friend Frank.”
“I gathered that.” Mum inspected Frank closely, taking in the bruised face and casual but smart clothes. I could see my mother’s mind ticking over, putting two and two together. “I see you’ve met Will.”
Frank nodded sheepishly and fingered one of the bruises. “Twice. It’s nice to meet you Mrs –”
“Call me Gwen.” She turned back to me, “I’ll tell your father we have a visitor.”
I pulled Frank into the sitting room, closing the door behind us. “I should warn you, my father isn’t particularly impressed with you, I’m not sure how he’ll react knowing you’re here. He’s not a violent man –”
“Thank God for small mercies,” Frank smiled faintly.
I frowned at his flippancy, “—but he’s not happy about you being the father of my baby and blames you much more than he blames me.”
“That’s understandable; you’re his daughter.” Frank reached out and grasped my hands. “Don’t worry, best behaviour and no more fighting. I’m here to help and I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”
I was unconvinced. “We’ll see.”
Letting go of my hands, Frank sat down on the lounge, patting the cushion beside him, “tell me where you’re up to.”
I sat. “There’s not much more to tell. The hotel were as helpful as they could be but they had no idea where he was going. The airline couldn’t tell me anything at all, even when I said he’d taken the children, they said to call the police. Frank, I’m probably over-reacting but his behaviour’s been so erratic recently, he’s scaring me.”
Frank thought for a moment, “well, has he got their passports?”
I stared at him in amazement then banged my palm against my forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
At that moment, a large tray of steaming cups and a plate of biscuits preceded my mum into the room and Frank took the tray, depositing it on a nearby table, while I filled my mother in. “I unpacked all the bags when we got here and put them away. I kept my passport in my handbag just in case, but I knew I wouldn’t need theirs so I hid them in their little travel bag. They’re safe.”
“Kate?” Mum frowned, “is it the little blue backpack you’re talking about?”
“Yes.”
“The one with the dolphin on the front?”
“What is it, mum?” But I had a sneaking suspicion I knew exactly what my mother was about to tell me.
Mum took a sip of her tea. “When Will came over earlier on and said you’d asked him to take the kids for a while he went and got some bits and bobs from their room. He came back down with that bag.”
“Are you sure?” I jumped up and ran out, almost knocking Dad over on the way.
“Where’s the fire, love?”
I heard my father but ignored him, intent on my mission. In the children’s room I pulled open the door of the wardrobe and stared inside. The bag had gone. Wandering back down the stairs, I could hear my father’s angry voice and I jumped down the last couple of steps, reaching him in record time.
“I think you should go.” Dad had his back to me, his aggressive stance saying more than words as he faced up to Frank.
“I just want to help my friend.”
“She doesn’t need your help, it’s her family she needs right now.” Dad’s voice was full of restrained anger. “I think you’ve already done enough, don’t you?”
Dad took a step towards Frank and I put my hand on my father’s arm. “Dad, please don’t.” I glanced at Frank, “I need him here, dad.”
Motionless, Dad stared pointedly at Frank. I held my breath; what was he going to do?
Without warning, he shook my hand off his sleeve, turned abruptly and left the room followed resignedly by Mum. “I’ll see to him,” she said quietly, patting my shoulder, and flicking an apologetic smile at Frank.
“I’m sorry, Kate, maybe I shouldn’t have come.”
I gazed at Frank, “I’m glad you came,” I whispered and gave him a fierce hug. “He’s got their passports,” my voice was muffled in his jacket, “I don’t know what to do now?”
*
Silently, I watched while Frank dialled the number, waiting impatiently when he announced he was in the queue. Time seemed to stand still, the second hand on my watch creeping desperately slowly around the face. Mother’s intuition was screaming that the kids were safe and happy with their dad, so why did I feel so wretched. I knew I was being emotionally irrational, and the pregnancy wasn’t entirely to blame. Suddenly a change in Frank’s stance signified something was happening.
“It’s show time,” he muttered, putting on his brightest face. “Good afternoon … Beatrice, was it? Beatrice, my name is Davis, John Davis. I need to get an urgent message to one of your passengers, name of Robson, William Robson; he’s travelling on flight number … oh, hold on a moment, I have it here somewhere …”
Frank winked at me and shuffled some papers noisily around on the table in front of him. I caught sight of one of my parent’s phone bills and a number of brightly coloured pictures drawn by Kensie and Tom. Abruptly stopping the paper shuffling, Frank groaned loudly.
“Damn, I’m sorry, I had it a moment ago. If you could just wait a moment, Beatrice, I’m sure my assistant could find it.” He listened a moment then grinned, his tired face lighting up. “Could you? That’d be great. Yes, he’s travelling to Sydney, Australia today. Now, this message is rather urgent, do you have a pen handy?” Another pause, then, “are you sure?” Frank stared at me and shook his head. “And there are no other flights? When’s the next one?”
I was fidgeting with impatience by the time Frank had finished on the telephone.
Frank grinned. “Will’s definitely not flying any time today or tomorrow. She got a bit suspicious when I started asking about the following day, I think she realised she’d breached the passenger confidentiality that you were talking about.”
I let out the breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding. “Thank God.”
Frank led me to the sofa. “What now?”
I felt lost. What now? It was a good question, requiring some kind of response, the only problem was, I just didn’t know.
Frank nudged me gently in the ribs, “it’ll turn out all right, Kate.”
I nodded mutely. It was already dark, past teatime and still there was no word. He could be anywhere by now;
they
could be anywhere by now.
“Does he have any other friends in
England?”
“I don’t think so. None that I know of, anyway.”
Frank put his arm around my shoulders and I leaned against him, cherishing his strength and resilience. Please, I silently begged, let it all end soon.
Please.
5 January
I stared at Will in astonishment, “why are you dressed like that?”
“I suggest, madam,” he replied, a sardonic half-smile on his lips, “that it would be in your best interests to give me what I want.” His lecherous gaze travelled down my body, taking in every curve, every detail, undressing me with his eyes. I put my hands on my hips and willed myself to stand still; I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how insecure I was feeling. What the bloody hell did he want? I must have missed that bit.