‘Imminently, that’s why we’re here first thing to prepare you for the inevitable,’ the Chief Inspector replied soberly.
‘Right.’ Robin nodded decisively then turned to Jasmine. ‘You need to pack a bag, Jasmine. I’ve a call to make.’
The police got up to leave.
‘Mrs Boyd, we’ll keep you informed of all proceedings,’ said Sergeant Burrows and handed Jasmine a contact card.
‘Th–thank you.’ Her voice quivered. She chewed her bottom lip.
Robin saw them out, his mind racing. They had to get away from here, pronto. It wouldn’t take long for the news reporters and journalists to come sniffing around. He had to act swiftly.
Robin drove at speed along the coastal path, enroute to the tidal road, his face set in determination. Jasmine had packed a small suitcase and was sat next to him, staring out of the Range Rover’s windows, keeping watch for any sign of unwanted visitors to Samphire Bay.
Once they reached the tidal road, they both sighed with relief. They were safe, driving towards the peninsula. Before long, the tide would come in and reach its peak, totally covering any access to where they were heading, Bunty’s house.
Robin had deduced this would be the best place to hide out. The isolated location was ideal, making it practically impossible for any of the prying press to get to at certain times of the day. And, towering high on a piece of land which gave three hundred and sixty degree views of the landscape, any intruders could easily be spotted. For Robin it had been a no-brainer and once he’d outlined the benefits of Bunty’s house, Jasmine had fully agreed.
After a phone call to Bunty, arrangements had been hastily put into place.
‘Darling,of courseJasmine must stay here!’ Bunty had exclaimed incredulously. She had been appalled at hearing Robin’s revelation and her heart went out to Jasmine. She was more than happy to help in any way possible and, secretly, she was pleased that Robin had had the good sense to involve her, glad that her home could be of good use.
Bunty had immediately started to prepare for her unexpected guest. She pondered over which bedroom to put Jasmine in; there were quite a few to choose from. She settled on the Rose Room, with its pink geometric patterned walls, double bed with oversized plush velvet headboard, matching pink velvet scalloped shell chair, mirrored dressing table and rose-pink cut-glass chandelier. The Burr walnut wardrobe would give Jasmine plenty of storage space; which then prompted Bunty to question how long would her guest be staying? As long as needed, Bunty concluded. The poor girl wanted anonymity – and she’d make damn sure she got it.
It warmed her that she wasn’t the only one desperate to help Jasmine. Robin, bless him, was certainly playing his part too. How right she was about those two. They were clearly made for each other; there was no denying how Robin had taken it upon himself to be so caring and protective towards Jasmine. It cheered her soul that there were still chivalrous young men about like Robin.
Bunty had just finished putting fresh sheets on the bed when the doorbell chimed. They were here already. Good timing, she thought, noticing the sea starting to gradually flow forward. Robin wouldn’t be going anywhere just yet either. A surreptitious smile spread across Bunty’s face. The more the merrier.
She suddenly realised with a poignant pang how lonely she had increasingly become. Living in such a grand house, away from it all, had its drawbacks. Her home may be splendid, with masses of character in a dramatic setting, but rattling around inside alone was proving isolating now for Bunty. She’d never wanted to admit it, to herself as much as anyone else, but as the years tumbled on and she grew older, the impracticalities of coping by herself in such a big, empty place had become… daunting. There, she’d finally acknowledged it. Now came the question, what was she to do about it? Mentally shaking herself, she set off down the sweeping staircase to answer the door to her most welcome visitors.
Opening the door, Bunty was met with two pale faces. Jasmine’s eyes were like saucers.
‘Thank you so much, Bunty,’ she gushed, eager to get in and out of sight.
‘Not at all, darling, come in, come in,’ Bunty quickly ushered the pair inside.
‘There you go.’ Robin put Jasmine’s suitcase down on the marbled tiled floor. ‘I better race back.’ He looked over his shoulder to the tide outside.
‘Certainly not!’ retorted Bunty with force. ‘You more than anyone ought to know how dangerous racing the tide is, Robin Spencer. Now go and put Jasmine’s case in the Rose Room. I’ll fix us all a drink, you look like you could both do with one.’
Robin dutifully did as he was told and set off up the staircase. Jasmine followed Bunty into the drawing room. A part of her was glad Robin wasn’t dashing off. She was comforted by his steady calming presence.
‘Now, darling, stiff gin and tonics all around I’d say,’ said Bunty as she stood by the glass cocktail cabinet preparing the drinks. Jasmine hid a grin; even in such stressful times, Bunty didn’t fail to make her smirk. Bunty’s joie de vivre and strength of character were attributes that Jasmine was starting to admire in the woman. It made such a stark contrast to her mum, who tended to fuss and faff ineffectually, compared to Bunty’s forthrightness. Bunty Deville was a formidable force and one to be reckoned with. She suddenly felt safe here with her, in this fortress about to be cut off from the outside world.
Robin entered the room and rubbed his hands together.
‘I could do with one of your G&T’s,’ he chuckled, knowing how generous Bunty was when pouring out the gin. Not having to drive off too soon meant he could relax and enjoy it. Tension had started to mount up inside him and was building momentum. He badly needed to unwind. Glancing at Jasmine, he noticed she looked more relaxed than she had on the drive over and was knocking back her drink with gusto. Good, coming here had definitely been the right move.
‘Come, sit down you two.’ Bunty signalled towards the sofa and sat in the opposite chair. ‘Now listen, whilst you are here, Jasmine, nobody will come anywhere near you, be assured of that,’ she said firmly.
‘Thank you again, Bunty, I—’ began Jasmine.
‘Not at all,’ cut in Bunty with a wave of her hand.
Robin looked from one to the other. These two are going to get along just fine, he thought to himself.
‘But somebody did promise me a dinner party on Saturday night,’ Bunty continued with a wink.
‘Oh sorry, I—’
