‘You should be,’ she whispered back with a smile.
***
After the hospital Darla went to the police station to give a statement. She knew if she didn’t do it as soon as possible she’d only keep putting it off. The police officer she saw was patient and understanding, and giving a statement was a lot easier than she’d expected, but then she’d only ever seen TV programmes where police were interrogating the bad guys. Next she went to see the owner of the boat. She’d given his details to the police so she guessed if he hadn’t already he’d be getting a visit from them. His house was just as she’d expected: modern, stylish and blooming huge. She knocked on his door and waited. A heavily made-up woman in her forties opened it.
‘Yeah?’ She was scanning Darla up and down as if expecting her to be delivering something.
‘Hi, I’m here to see Mr Rogers.’
‘He’s out. I’m his wife. What did you want him for?’
Darla rummaged in her bag. This might be the cheat’s way out but she was going to take it. ‘Please can you give him these? They’re the keys to his yacht. I’m Darla and I suspect he won’t want me cleaning it after today so—’
‘Oh hell, you’re the girl who was kidnapped? Come in,’ she said, taking Darla by the arm and giving her no choice as she pulled her inside.
‘Actually it only drifted like a couple of feet away from the pontoon before we got wedged so I wasn’t really kid—’
‘Let me get you a drink. Tea, coffee, something stronger for your nerves? Brandy!’ But before Darla could choose the woman had disappeared, leaving Darla alone in the vast hallway. She reversed back and grinned at Darla. ‘This way, lovey, come and sit down and you can tell me all about it.’
The living room was huge and had three very large white leather sofas. Darla perched on the edge of the nearest one and noticed the seat was covered in muddy paw prints. The woman held out a large brandy. ‘Actually, I’ve got my car so I won’t have a drink but thank you,’ said Darla, keen to hand over the keys and leave.
‘After the shock you’ve had, leave your car here and I’ll pay for a taxi home. Get that down you.’
Darla stared at the glass.
‘I insist,’ said the woman, who didn’t look like she was going to give in easily.
The stalemate got the better of her and Darla took the brandy. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’m forgetting my manners. My name’s Margy.’ She offered a limp hand, which Darla shook.
Margy came to sit next to her. She rubbed at the ingrained dirt on the seat before sitting down. ‘Blooming dogs. I love them but the mess they make.’
‘White vinegar and water,’ said Darla almost automa-tically.
‘That won’t go with brandy.’
‘No, for the stains. Mix equal parts white vinegar and water and dab it on the muddy patches, leave it for five minutes and then wipe off with a clean damp cloth.’
‘I’ll tell my cleaner to try that. Is it a secret formula?’
‘I work a lot with animals.’ Darla sipped the brandy and it almost took her breath away. ‘I expect Mr Rogers is quite cross, is he?’
‘He was spitting feathers.’
Shit,thought Darla, was she going to get sued? Could he get her prosecuted? That was the last thing she needed. ‘I’m really very sorry. You see—’
‘Oh lovey, not with you.’ Margy patted Darla’s knee. ‘With the fool who stole the yacht.’
‘I thought he’d blame me and sack me.’
‘Goodness, no. This isn’t your fault,’ said Margy.
Darla took a deep breath. ‘It kind of was. The man who tried to steal the yacht was my ex-boyfriend, so it was me he followed to the boat. I wouldn’t blame Mr Rogers if he didn’t want me anywhere near his yacht from now on.’
‘You silly thing. He’d have me to answer to if he suggested sacking you. And he wouldn’t dream of it. He thinks you do a wonderful job.’ Darla couldn’t help but feel a little stab of pride. ‘No, he doesn’t blame you at all. It’s all the fault of that kidnapper who almost murdered your friend. Terrible business. Is she in intensive care, your friend?’
‘Err, no, she’s gone home.’ Darla wasn’t sure if Margy looked relieved or disappointed. ‘But she has lots of stitches in her head and might have concussion,’ added Darla.
