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‘Well, I suppose that’s only natural, after being thumped on the head. But a headache won’t kill me.’ Dorothy searched her face anxiously. ‘Miranda, that nice policeman says I should go home when they let me out, not go back to your flat.’
‘Yes, he’s right, I think you should, too.’
Her mother burst out, ‘What is going on here, Miranda? Why did someone burgle your flat? What’s this all about? You haven’t told me the whole story, have you? There’s something behind all this.’
Miranda sighed. ‘Yes. You see, I . . . saw . . . something, somebody was killed, and I was the only witness. And the murderer is trying to kill me, well, the police think so, and it is beginning to look like that.’
‘The hit and run . . . that was deliberate? He wanted to kill you?’ Dorothy looked aghast.
‘Yes, Neil thinks so. Sergeant Maddrell, that is. Some witnesses thought he drove straight at me. Of course, it could all be a mistake, but after you walked in on this burglary I don’t think so. It’s too much of a coincidence.’
Her mother groaned. ‘Miranda, you can’t go back to that flat, either. I must have been attacked in mistake for you – and next time it could be you walking in and being beaten over the head, and that time you could die. You could come to me, but the police think he searched my bag, so n
ow he’ll know my address. It might not be safe for you to come down to Dorset.’
‘It might not be safe for you, either. Maybe you shouldn’t go back there. They might know your address, might come looking for you.’
‘Why should they? I don’t know a thing; it wasn’t me who saw a murder.’ Dorothy paused, staring at her. ‘What exactly did you see?’
Miranda hesitated. ‘It might be better if I don’t tell you. What you don’t know, you can’t be forced to tell them.’
‘Maybe you’re right. But I’m going home anyway. I’ll feel safer in my own home. And I’ll get someone to stay with me.’ Dorothy chewed her little finger thoughtfully, then her face cleared. ‘Freddy. He’s a retired policeman – you know, you met him last time you came. A big chap with a ginger moustache. The funny thing is, the hair on his head is brown, not ginger. Odd that. But I’ll feel safe having him in the house. Tough as shoe leather, he’ll make sure nothing happens to me.’
‘Isn’t he the one who proposed at Christmas?’
‘And a couple of times since! I like him a lot, but I’m still not ready to give up my independence. I’ll ring him before I leave here, make sure he can come. But I’m still worried about you. You can’t stay in London, or at my house. You can’t stay indoors all the time, can you? But if you go out you’ll be vulnerable. He might get hold of a gun next time. If he’s serious about killing you. Do you really think he is?’
Miranda nodded. ‘It is beginning to look like it. I’ll have to think of somewhere to go.’
‘Abroad would be safest, and don’t tell anyone where you’re going! Not even me!’
Miranda let her gaze wander around the ward at the other patients. ‘Abroad, yes – but where, that’s the question?’
On the other side of the ward she noted Charles Leigh sitting beside a bed in which a really beautiful girl lay. A girl with hair like black silk, a smooth, golden skin and slanting dark eyes.
Dorothy saw her looking at them and said quietly, ‘She’s in here for tests. Poor girl, she keeps losing her babies and they’re trying to find out why. I had a long chat while we were both in the x-ray department. She’s foreign, I couldn’t make out whether she had said her name was Pam or . . . well, it sounded like Pan but that’s ridiculous.’
‘No, it really is Pan – short for Pandora. I just met her husband, in the waiting room. He’s English, but she’s Greek.’
‘She’s a lovely girl, seems very cheerful but I could feel how sad she was underneath.’
‘And she’s so beautiful.’
‘Very,’ her mother agreed, but her voice was vague. ‘How about Italy?’
Miranda blinked at her, bewildered. ‘What?’
‘You could go to Italy, get a job there.’
‘I don’t speak Italian.’
‘You don’t speak any languages.’
‘I know a little French.’
‘A very little,’ her mother said drily. ‘I suppose you could go to France, though.’
‘I was thinking of America or Canada – at least they speak English.’
