15 #3
She was just beginning on the outline for Chapter One when her phone rang. For a moment, she simply sat still and looked at the smartphone, before snatching it up defiantly. She simply had to get over any feelings of reluctance to use it – and she would!
Besides, it might be Chloe ringing with news of her father’s condition. Or even to say she had found the film.
Shaking off her sense of wariness, she abruptly answered it.
And moments later, she was very glad that she had, for it was Caroline Dixon-Hayes in person.
The manager of the retirement facility had passed on Lyssa’s request for an interview, and Caroline was more than happy to talk about her Uncle Luke and the bands he’d represented.
‘He was such a wonderful man. If he hadn’t taken me in when he did, I don’t know what I’d have done,’ she said.
‘So, I’m more than happy to talk to you about him.
And it’ll take me back too, which at my age is a bonus.
Funny how we scorn nostalgia when we’re young but dote on it when we’re older!
And I loved all that stuff – that world he was so much a part of.
Can you imagine walking out into your back garden and finding your uncle throwing a party where there were members from the Hollies or the Troggs or the Tremeloes eating sausage rolls and riffing on guitars? ’
‘No, I can’t,’ Lyssa enthused. ‘But it sounds magical, and I’d love to hear all about it. You must have known the Lucky Cuckoos particularly well?’
‘Oh yes – all of them,’ Caroline said matter-of-factly. ‘It was so sad, how everything seemed to go wrong for them. It really upset Uncle.’
‘When can I come and see you?’ Lyssa asked and was totally wrong-footed by her response.
‘Well, why not right now? I’m not doing anything, and you’re just in Oxford, right? Oh, but I expect you’re too busy . . .’
‘No, no, that’s fine,’ Lyssa said hastily, already shooting up out of her chair and looking around her rather frantically. ‘Just give me ten minutes to get myself together, and I’ll be right over.’
It took her a little longer than that, for moments later Chloe Tillman finally rang back to say that her father’s condition was improving and, though he had yet to regain consciousness, his doctors were much more upbeat about his chances for a good recovery.
‘That’s wonderful, Chloe!’ Lyssa said, almost wilting in relief. ‘You and your mum must be feeling so much better.’
‘Yes, we are. But the main reason I’m calling is to tell you about Grandad’s film.’
‘Oh?’ Lyssa said, her heart pounding.
‘Yes. I don’t quite know where to begin,’ Chloe said hesitantly. ‘It’s all a bit odd and a little mysterious, to be honest.’
This was not what Lyssa needed right now, and she felt her heart plummet. She took a deep, fortifying breath. ‘That sounds ominous,’ she said, trying to keep her tone light.
‘I’m not sure I’d go that far.’ Chloe, too, was keeping her voice light, but underneath it, Lyssa could sense that she wasn’t feeling any more nonchalant than herself.
‘See, I did go through the cardboard box and found Grandad’s old cine camera and lots of tin cans containing film spools.
They were all well labelled, and so it didn’t take me long to see that the one you wanted – with the name you gave me, Amelia Montrose, and the date of the party – wasn’t amongst them. ’
Lyssa felt herself wilt. Even though she’d been more than half expecting something like this, it still came as a blow to actually hear Chloe say it.
‘Oh well – it was always a long shot,’ she said, trying to be philosophical. ‘Perhaps he lent it to someone, and they never gave it back, or it got lost in a family move to another house or something.’
‘Yes, that’s what I thought,’ Chloe said slowly.
‘But I was talking to Mum about it, and she remembers Dad bringing the box down and going through it and . . . Well, the thing is, she swears Dad found it. The film you wanted, I mean. He was quite pleased about it, in fact. He told her how much he was looking forward to watching it again, if the camera still worked, and how pleased you would be about it all.’
For a moment, Lyssa was incapable of speech. Then she finally managed to say slowly, ‘I’m not sure I understand. If he found it . . .’ She trailed off helplessly.
‘Then where is it?’ Chloe concluded for her.
‘Yes, I know – I thought the same thing. But it’s not there – I’ve gone through all the film canisters again and again and it’s not in the box.
Look, I’m going to have to go back into work for the rest of today, but once I’ve finished, I’m going to do a quick search in Dad’s man cave in case, for some reason, he put it somewhere else. You never know.’
‘No, you don’t,’ Lyssa heard herself agree faintly, and a moment later they exchanged rather wooden goodbyes. But all the time, her mind was buzzing, imagining the scene at the Tillman residence.
Justin goes up to the roof to fix the tile.
His wife would hear him fall, surely? She rushes out of the house and .
. . Supposing someone had deliberately moved the ladder when Justin had started to use it.
It wouldn’t have been that hard, would it, to then dart into hiding, and once Mrs Tillman came out to investigate, to slip into the house and search for the film and take it.
Anyone would be too distracted by what had happened to Justin to notice if someone was moving about inside the house. Presumably neighbours would have come to help, and the ambulance would arrive, and there would be a lot of noise and consternation and to-ing and fro-ing of various people.
Someone desperate to get their hands on that film would take the risk, wouldn’t they?
Or was she just losing it now, and tumbling further and further down the rabbit hole?
Making an angry tcha sound, she got up and vowed to pull herself together. If she kept on like this, she would become too frightened to move!
And she had better things to do than scare herself silly.
Neville saw Lyssa walking down the short path from the flats and then turn a sharp right on the pavement.
Like most of the residents, she kept her car parked in a small private parking area opposite the narrow lane skirting the building, and he surmised that she was heading off somewhere in the car.
Grabbing his own set of car keys, he lifted a dark blue baseball-style cap off his coatrack near the front door and put it on. He was already donning his sunglasses and was jogging quickly down the side street when he saw Lyssa slip into her car and start it up.
Luckily, there were two ways into the parking area – the main entrance, which was a simple turning into the lot by which the cars entered and exited, and a narrow gap in the low box hedging, where pedestrians could slip through on the diagonal.
He chose the latter and was careful to keep out of her sightline as he made his way to his own vehicle – which wasn’t his own personal car, but rather one of a fleet of cars and vans that he and his colleagues could use at any given time.
These vehicles all had one thing in common – they were totally anonymous.
No glaring colours, and no brand new models nor really old ones.
No bumper stickers, nothing at all that made them stand out from the crowd.
Most had tinted windows. All were much more powerful than they looked, and some had very interesting modifications indeed.
Neville was already behind the wheel as Lyssa was pulling out of the entrance.
He followed, waited for a gap in the traffic and then settled in comfortably behind her, with four cars in between them.
He had no qualms that he might lose sight of her.
He already knew that she was a careful, maybe even timid driver, and never drove very fast.
He’d followed her before.