Her Enemy's Promise

Michael

Michael

The blindingly bloody obvious finally hits me between the eyes.

Fuck!

I bang the dashboard with a fist.

Stupid. Stupid.

I’m trying to drive through the City one-way system in traffic. If I go on foot…

Think with your brain. Not panic and adrenalin…

Spinning the steering wheel, I squeal across two lanes and a junction, cut in front of a taxi driver, then park up, two wheels on the kerb.

Ignoring the screeched curses from the cabbie behind me, giving only passing thought that the car is likely to be towed, I set off at a run, abandoning car, bug and all.

*****

Hot, lungs heaving, heart pumping and dripping with sweat, I burst through the doors of Francesca’s department store.

The tearooms are on the top floor. Middle-class ladies with crimped hair and primped clothes look at me askance as I head for the elevator. One prize example makes a show of wafting the air by her face as at the last moment, I take the escalator instead, so I can scan the shop floor.

On the fourth storey, it's almost empty. A couple of tables are still occupied, but empty cups and plates strewn with crumbs say they’re almost done.

Other tables are being stripped, wiped and reset with white linen, silver cutlery and flowers. A pair of swing doors open to the sound of kitchen clatter and a man in blue overalls pushing a floor polisher.

There’s no sign of Charlotte, Mitch or Kirstie.

Wiping my dripping forehead on my sleeve, I’m heading for a woman wearing a black dress, white apron and sensible shoes when the phone buzzes in my pocket.

“Ben? You found them? I’m in Francesca’s now but there’s no…”

He cuts me short, sounding oddly hollow, a touch of echo in the background. “No, they’d gone when I got there about twenty minutes ago, but the waitress who’d served them said she overheard them talking about going to see a movie afterward.”

“Did she hear which movie?”

“No. I asked, but she didn’t know.”

Christ. How many f*****g cinemas are there around here?

Then I realise I spoke out loud.

There’s a short silence then Ben says, “I make it eight. I’m heading for the West End. I started with the nearest. I’m in there now, at The Royal. I’ll ask at the desk if they’ve seen them.”

“Right, you cover that end of town. I’ll head the other way down East Street. Keep in touch.”

“I’ll do that Bro.”

And once more, I set off at a run.

*****