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Chapter 22
‘What do you meanRon has gone?’
Annabelle paused halfway up the stairs as Brett’s voice drifted down to her.
‘He’s gone, I tell you. Gone!’ Beverley cried. ‘He left me a note.’
‘Gone where?’ Brett asked.
Annabelle hurried up the remaining steps and almost fell into the room. Beverley was in her nightie, a dressing gown over the top and slippers on her feet, three curlers in the front of her hair. She looked distraught, and was waving a piece of paper around. Brett was in the kitchen, kettle in hand, poised ready to pour water into a mug.
Out of the corner of her eye, Annabelle noticed Troy lounging on the sofa, stretched out with his feet crossed at the ankles and one arm draped along the back, in virtually the same position he’d been in yesterday evening. He was watching with interest, a smirk playing about his mouth.
‘Back on the road,’ Beverley said. Her face was white and she looked close to tears, her bottom lip trembling.
Annabelle shook her head. ‘He’ll have spent the night in the dunes,’ she said. ‘He did the same thing when Pepe went missing.’
‘Ya mean, I didn’t have to sleep on this shitty sofa, after all?’ Troy drawled.
‘Shut up, Troy.’ Annabelle didn’t look at him. Her attention was on the piece of paper in Beverley’s hand. Despite what she’d just said, Annabelle had a feeling of dread in her chest. She didn’t want to believe it, but she instinctively knew her aunt was right – Ronhadleft.
‘No, lovey, he’s gone.’ Beverley turned tear-filled eyes towards her.
Annabelle suddenly felt weak and unsteady, and she leaned against the kitchen island for support. ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘I thought... I hoped…’
‘Here. Read it.’ Beverley thrust the note at her, and Annabelle hastily scanned it.
‘Is that all? He thinks it’s time he left? No reason, no explanation?’ Annabelle read it again, looking frantically for something that wasn’t there.
‘What does he say?’ Brett asked.
‘Read it yourself.’ Annabelle handed him Ron’s brief letter.
Brett scanned it, then looked at Beverley, his eyes full of sympathy. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘I thought he was happy living with me!’ Beverley sniffled.
‘He was. He says so—’ Brett shook the letter ‘—right here.’
‘But not enough.’ Beverley wailed.
Annabelle let out a moan of distress. The pain was growing with each passing minute, and very soon it would overwhelm her, as the reality sank in.Ron had left. He’d chosen life on the streets, with all the deprivations and hardship that entailed, over having a relationship with her. She’d really thought they’d had something special. Clearly she’d been mistaken.
At least he’d told Beverley that he loved her and he was sorry.
He’d said nothing to Annabelle. Not even goodbye.
‘Poor, poor Ron,’ Beverley cried and burst into tears.
‘What’s all the racket about?’ Helen entered the room, dressed in her golfing clothes, eager for a final game on the world-renowned course.
Beverley turned stricken eyes to her nemesis. ‘You’ll be happy,’ she snapped. ‘Ron has gone.’
‘Gone where?’
‘He’s back on the streets!’ Beverley exclaimed. She pointed to the piece of paper that Brett was still holding. ‘He left me a note.’
Helen’s mouth flattened into a thin line and she sniffed. ‘I must admit, I’m not surprised. I always thought he was unreliable. Although, I must say, he did have it cushy with you – free bed and board. But then again, I don’t suppose there was any future in it: you’re not exactly rolling in money, so I bet he’s off to find a richer victim. Or maybe a younger one.’ She shot Annabelle a meaningful look out of the corner of her eye, and added, ‘One with a house of her own.’
