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Annie turned pale. ‘So the man on the bike could have been …’
‘Roger Keats, yes, exactly.’
‘It never even entered my head!’ She was appalled by the idea that Roger Keats had been so close without her even guessing. She tried to remember what the man on the bike had looked like, but in black leathers, with a helmet visor over his face, he had made no impression on her at all. How many other times had Roger Keats been around without her knowing it?
How had he known where to find them
out on location?
‘His wife,’ Sean said, as if reading her mind, and Annie started in shock.
‘What?’
‘His wife knew you would be on location in Petticoat Lane Market on Sunday morning. I’ll have a word with Harriet, we’ll have to get rid of her.’
‘No, don’t!’ Annie protested urgently. ‘If Harriet had her moved and she complained to her union, it would cause a lot of trouble – what possible excuse could I give? It would look as if I was being vindictive. After all, she hasn’t done anything. She’ll just tell them I was responsible for her husband losing his job, now I’m trying to get her fired – what do you think her union is going to say? We don’t want a strike hitting the production.’
Sean argued with her, but had to admit she was right. Then he tried to talk her into having someone move into the house with her while her mother was in hospital.
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said, not wishing to admit she had no relatives except her mother, and very few close friends. As a child she had had friends at school, but her mother was so protective that she would never allow Annie to play out in the street, or go to anybody’s home. Trudie had insisted that Annie should come straight home after school and she was rarely allowed to take anyone home with her. She had begun to make friends at drama school – but then she had been forced to leave, and for some years after that she had been so traumatised she hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone unless she had to. When you worked in the theatre your world shrank to a small circle; you went to bed late and got up late, you worked all evening, you couldn’t go out to dinner or the theatre, so you saw very few people except on a Sunday. Your only friends were often the others in the cast, for the run of that play, and, however close the friendship, it always faded once the play ended. You might stay friendly, but you simply didn’t see each other very often any more.
Television was different only in that you worked hard all day and went home in the evening, but you were usually so tired that you didn’t want to go anywhere after dinner, except off to bed, to get up at crack of dawn next day.
Sean said, ‘Harriet lives alone, too. Why don’t you have her to stay for a few days? I’ll talk to her.’
Annie noted his calm assumption of being able to talk Harriet into anything. He was probably right, Harriet always took anything he said very seriously; Annie had several times watched Sean talk Harriet into changing her mind. Just how close were they? And why did it bother her so much to think about that?
‘I’d better get back to her,’ he said, ‘We’re working on the location schedule for six months ahead. The location manager is still negotiating with the police and a couple of big banks over two locations in Cheap-side – if we agree to all their demands we’ll go over budget, and Billy will go bananas.’
‘I hate working on location in winter,’ Annie said, remembering the raw and bitter weather in Petticoat Lane on Sunday.
‘Everyone does, but it really makes the series,’ Sean said drily. ‘I hope your mother is better today. Bye, Annie.’
Trudie seemed to be in less pain, but she was very vague; Annie was worried that the drugs they were giving her were making her memory lapses worse. She remembered who Annie was but she kept forgetting where she was, and why. When she did remember, she pleaded, ‘I want to come home. Take me home, Annie.’
Annie wished to God she could. The ward was so crowded. She hated the mingled smells of floor polish, antiseptic and tired flowers, and it was depressing to see all these frightened, sick old people crammed together like sardines.
She looked unhappily at her mother. ‘I can’t, Mum – you can’t walk, you know that. As soon as you’re well enough to travel, though, I’ll take you home, I promise.’
Trudie closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. She didn’t mention anyone trying to kill her this time. Annie left after a while; the sister said her mother wouldn’t wake up for ages.
‘She seems to be drugged up to the eyeballs,’ accused Annie.
‘We have to keep her sedated because the pain is pretty bad, and she’s in no state to stand it. Don’t worry, Miss Lang, we do know what we’re doing.’
‘I’m sure you do,’ Annie hurriedly soothed, hearing the touchiness in the other’s voice.
The ward sister hesitated, then said, ‘You know, you are going to have to face it, your mother is very confused and she’s getting worse. She needs a secure environment where she can be watched twenty-four hours a day. You should be planning for the future.’
Annie left, heavy-hearted. When she got home Tracy was still there, waiting for her, so that she could let Annie into the house and give her the new set of keys.
‘Can’t stop, my sister’s got the kids. There were a couple of phone messages, I left them on the pad.’
‘I’ll find them. Thanks for staying late.’
‘That’s OK.’ Tracy’s hazel eyes were concerned. ‘Look, if you get nervous during the night, give me a ring. I’ll have to bring the kids, but I’ll come over if you need me. I don’t like to think of you being here alone at night if there’s some crazy guy trying to break in! You ought to get someone to stay with you until your mother comes back. Not that …’ She stopped and gave Annie an uncertain look, flushing.
‘Not that my mother would be much help in an emergency,’ Annie finished for her, grimacing. ‘No, poor love, she wouldn’t, but I still feel better having her in the house!’
