Chapter 12
Robin and Jasmine stood on the platform, eagerly awaiting the Euston train. It was early morning and the busy commuters milled around them. Shivering, Jasmine pulled up the fur collar on her coat.
‘Shouldn’t be long now,’ said Robin, glancing at the timetable screen. Sure enough, the train pulled slowly into Lancaster station. ‘Our coach will be up here.’ He led her towards the front of the train.
‘First-class?’ Jasmine asked in surprise, expecting to travel economy.
‘Of course.’ Robin grinned. He fully intended to spoil his girlfriend rotten this mini break, wanting her thirtieth birthday to be extra special.
Entering their carriage, it was a blessed relief to be in the warmth. They sat down in their roomy seats with a table between them. Once the train set off, breakfast was soon served, consisting of smoked salmon and cream cheese on rye bread, with a glass of Buck’s fizz each.
‘This is the life,’ cheered Jasmine, clinking glasses with Robin.
‘Isn’t it just,’ replied Robin. ‘And there’s plenty more where that came from,’ he winked.
Jasmine sat back and smiled contently. At the beginning of the year, if someone had told her she’d be celebrating her birthday travelling first-class to London sipping Buck’s fizz with such a caring, loving, gorgeous man, she’d have laughed in dismissal. Having lost her husband so tragically, she had found it impossible to see any kind of future at all. Her days then had just merged into a dark, depressing, bottomless pit. The idea of actually acknowledging her birthday would have seemed implausible. But, thanks to her move to Samphire Bay and the motivation that followed, she had met and fallen for the boy next door.
Jasmine looked across and absorbed Robin, not just in sight, but presence also. He had a calming influence about him, leaving her to feel secure and protected. She smiled to herself as he tucked into his breakfast. He deserved this break as much as she did, having worked so hard on the cottage next to her and now his latest huge warehouse project. She was going to savour the time with him this holiday, suspecting the next one would be a long way off.
It only took two hours to arrive in Euston. Wheeling their cases to the taxi rank, Robin was soon loading them into a cab. He gave the address of the Old Coach House Hotel, and they were whisked through the busy London streets, packed with tourists and traffic.
‘It’s not like home, is it?’ Jasmine laughed, gazing out of the cab window.
‘Give me the coast and fresh air any day,’ said Robin, remembering his days living in north London. He had been a teenager when his parents had decided to ditch the rat-race and up sticks to Lancashire. He had never missed his city life, totally embracing the nature, space and freedom the move to Samphire Bay had given him.
‘’ere we are,’ the taxi driver called, in his thick cockney accent.
Jasmine gasped at the Georgian coaching inn, looking so elegant flanked by evergreen plants and trees.
‘Oh, Robin, it looks lovely!’ she exclaimed.
After checking in, they were shown to their room. True to form, Robin had booked the largest, most romantic of bedrooms, with a huge four poster bed and free-standing copper bathtub in the corner. There was a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice-bucket with two glass flutes ready to be filled. Jasmine’s eyes filled, appreciating the effort he’d made.
There was a packed itinerary to follow, starting with a visit to the Tower of London. They both enjoyed being immersed in the history of the place dating back to 1066, built by William I. They marvelled at the Yeoman Warders, solemnly carrying out duties, as they had done so for centuries past.
Next came Westminster Abbey. Jasmine was instantly surprised at its size.
‘It looks so much bigger on the TV, doesn’t it?’ she whispered as they collected tour guide headsets. They tuned in to the voice informing them of coronations, royal weddings, kings, queens, statesmen, soldiers, poets, heroes and villains which were all part of the history to be discovered within its ancient walls.
‘It’s amazing to think we’re walking in the same footsteps as them,’ remarked Robin as he took it all in.
By early evening they made their way to the South Bank located along the river Thames, for the last flight of the London Eye. Again, on form, Robin had booked a private ‘Cupid’ pod which provided a romantic setting with a bottle of champagne. It was dark and the nightfall sights of London’s twinkling lights and the gentle rotation of the wheel contributed to a magical and intimate experience. Views of Buckingham Palace, Big Ben and The Shard floated around them against a backdrop of colourful fireworks marking Bonfire Night.
‘Happy birthday, Jasmine.’ Robin kissed her cheek as her eyes reflected the lights outside.
Turning towards him, she smiled and touched her lips with his. The kiss was long and slow, devouring each other.
‘Thank you for everything,’ she finally replied.
They held each other, spell-bound with the city skyline before them, truly feeling on top of the world.
Emma stared out of the kitchen window, deep in thought. Felix’s words from the other night had made a big impact on her. Not that she regretted taking the job as housekeeper and living in his house, far from it. But she couldn’t deny the feeling of foreboding that Anika Genness had left – like a bad smell hanging in the air.
Her imagination had started to run wild. Visions of Glenn Close fromFatal Attractionsprung to mind. What if this bunny boiler really did come here and pay a visit? Her blood chilled at the thought. And more sinisterly, what if she happened to be alone in the house? Her eyes homed in on the knife block sat on the worktop and she gulped back the fear. Was she being a tad dramatic? No, not when considering what the police had to say.
Although Anika hadn’t actually carried out any physical harm, the defamation of Felix’s character had been very real, as were the underlying threats to further sully his reputation and remain a constant menace in his life. After Felix had shown the police her letter, plus all the other messages she’d sent him, they had taken him seriously. It was evident the woman was unhinged. In their experience of such stalking cases, the perpetrator usually went from mild threat to extreme intimidation, gradually increasing their erratic, disturbing behaviour.
All this of course did little to appease Felix, or Emma for that matter. Having the police call at the house and advise them was unsettling to say the least and only confirmed what Felix had become to realise – Anika was dangerous. He’d also learnt that she had an existing criminal record. She had form for stalking and more, and had been prosecuted under her real name, Ann Jones, some years back. What the police had revealed had sent him cold; false imprisonment. She had actually restrained a former lover under lock and key. Felix had blinked in disbelief. How could she do something like that and carry on as normal? He had assumed Anika had changed her name for reasons of vanity, for a glamorous persona, one to match her super-model standing. Little had he known it was also to shake off and disguise her previous convictions.
