Money Never Sleeps (12 page)

J
ed had done his first-aid training and was up to date in hypothermia treatment. He had twice fished would-be suicides out of the river; once in Liverpool, once in Manchester. Both had jumped off bridges in an alcoholic haze.

No hot baths and no alcohol. Both methods damaged the already cold blood.

First he had to get those wet clothes off Fancy, but not here in the open, somewhere warm and indoors. She might not
appreciate
a semi-conscious striptease, but she wouldn’t know about it.

He carried her back to Lakeside, her own feet doing some of the walking in a semi-drunk fashion. Anyone seeing them would think they had been to a very inebriated party. Keying in the door code was difficult with only one hand.

‘Ouch,’ said Fancy.

It was a good sign. They stumbled into the lift, dripping water everywhere.
Doors closing
, said the voice. Fancy slumped against Jed, their wet bodies so chilling.
Doors opening
, the voice said again at the third floor.

The door to room 425 was still open. No anxious volunteer sitting there, white-faced and panic-stricken. Jed kicked it shut. He drew the curtains and put on all the lights. They would generate some warmth – he knew that the radiators were turned off for the summer. He plugged in the hairdryer and propped it up on the desk. The hot air fanned into the room.

Peeling off Fancy’s wet clothes was not easy without her
cooperation
. 
He left her bra and panties on, taking his eyes off their lacy feminine curves now tinged a murky lake-water shade. He dried her gently, knowing that roughness would damage her skin. Her feet were torn and bloodied but they would have to wait.

Then he wrapped her in both sheets and the duvet, rolled her into the centre of the bed. She didn’t have a coat to add on top and the towels were damp.

He left her for a moment and collected the duvet from the opposite bedroom. He laid it over her carefully. He had a feeling that her shivering was already becoming less violent. Her own body heat had to work to warm her up.

He was the one beginning to shiver.

He stripped off his clothes, took a quick warm shower to get rid of the lake water and the musty smell. Then he dried himself and climbed into bed with Fancy. He slid under the second duvet and put his arms round her, holding her gently, in a loving but dispassionate hug. It was not how he had imagined their first night together either. But it was good to hold her, to be able to put his arms round her.

The warmth generated by his body was helping, as he knew it would. The room was warming up, but not excessively.

‘Nice,’ she murmured.

He wondered if she would remember anything. How she had got to the lake. Who took her, who pushed her in. Would she have any clues locked away in that sleep-drugged brain? Her writer’s mind might have latched on to something, noticed something, remembered a voice or a sound.

The shivering was gradually subsiding, and Fancy lay in a restful slumber, occasionally murmuring and licking her lips. Her hair was drying into untidy peaks. She would have a fit when she saw it, Jed thought grimly. He picked off stray mauve petals of loosestrife, the willowherb that grew in the lake.

‘Would you like a drink, Fancy?’ he whispered.

She nodded, eyes still closed. ‘Dr … ink.’

He got up carefully and turned off the hairdryer. The room
was really warm now. He made two cups of tea, one only warm, his hot. He saw a little pot of honey purloined from the breakfast table and put a spoonful into Fancy’s tea. It was going to be awkward giving her the drink.

He tucked a towel round his waist in case she woke up.

He took the warm tea to Fancy and helped her to sit up. She was able to drink some of the sweet liquid and seemed to
appreciate
it. Then she lay back and dozed off again. He drank his own hot tea, then climbed back into bed with her, folding his body against hers, his warmth bringing her temperature back to normal, slowly and gently. He could almost have fallen asleep in the comfort and the company.

She had stopped shivering now. She was going to recover without hospital treatment, but he would find the good poet doctor as soon as he could. And he needed some dry clothes himself as soon as possible.

Leaving Fancy was a problem. Jed did not trust anyone now. If he locked her into room 425, she might wake up and panic. And there were spare keys floating around if you knew how to get hold of them, and whoever had taken Fancy to the lake might have that knowledge.

There was a long enough lead on the telephone to take the instrument into the bathroom. He did not want to disturb Fancy. He phoned management and got the duty manager, as the day staff had already left. It was not the night manager but some
in-between
person.

‘I wonder if you could find Dr Arthur for me. He’s probably just finishing supper in the dining room. It’s not an emergency so no announcement, please. Someone will know where he’s sitting. Just say that Jed Edwards would like to see him again. He’ll know what it’s about.’

‘But no announcement, sir? It would be quicker to do it over the tannoy.’

‘No, thank you. No announcement, no emergency. I don’t want anything public. I just need to see him.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

He did his best very quickly and in less than ten minutes, Dr Arthur was in room 425, holding his supper napkin. Jed opened the door, still with the towel tucked round his waist.

‘Good heavens,’ said Dr Arthur, eyeing the bare chest and legs.

‘Good heavens, indeed,’ said Jed. ‘Not what you think. Come in and shut the door. I found Fancy in the lake, the old lake. Someone tried to drown her.’

Dr Arthur was satisfied that Fancy was recovering from her immersion in the lake, thanks to Jed. Her pulse was almost normal and her breathing regular.

‘We need to get her moving about,’ said Dr Arthur. ‘Some small activity would help. Nothing strenuous, some walking. The Roofie hasn’t helped. Perhaps some more warm sweet tea.’

‘Can I leave her with you while I go downstairs and get myself some dry clothes?’ Jed didn’t like doing this but he had to trust someone. He could hardly suspect every single delegate at the conference.

‘Of course, dear boy. Mind who you meet in the corridors. It’ll be tomorrow’s top gossip. That towel – not exactly Tarzan.’

‘Tomorrow’s gossip. Delegate caught
in flagrante delicto
. I’ll put my wet clothes back on. Nasty but necessary.’

Dr Arthur caught the apprehensive look on Jed’s face. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’m not your lake murderer. I’ll look after the young lady till you get back.’

‘Thanks,’ Jed said. ‘I’m getting paranoid about everyone.’

It was the fastest change in the West. Jed had another shower, towelled off and put on jeans and a black polo-necked sweater. He grabbed black socks and trainers and raced back upstairs, half expecting Fancy to have gone again. But she was sitting up in bed, a jersey round her shoulders, drinking more tea, with the doctor holding the cup. There was a rosy hue to her face.

‘Would you like to read some of my poems?’ he was saying. ‘I don’t let many people see them. They might think I’ve gone off my rocker.’

‘I would love to see them,’ said Fancy, her voice dry and hoarse. ‘It would be a privilege. Please let me have some.’

She sounded almost normal. Normal words, even if the voice was rough. She smiled at Jed as he came into the room. ‘I’ve been in the wars, apparently,’ she told him. ‘And I hear you saved me again.’

He wondered how much the doctor had told her.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘A bit weird. I don’t actually remember much. I remember drinking tea on the lawn and we were talking. I don’t remember what we were talking about but I expect it’ll come back.’

‘I think I can leave you in good hands,’ said Dr Arthur. ‘I’d rather like to hear tonight’s speaker. I understand he’s very amusing. A parody of an Agatha Christie play, I hear.’

‘Is it evening already?’ asked Fancy, a bit puzzled. ‘Is supper over?’

Jed nodded. ‘You missed it. We both missed it. We might get a meal rebate at this rate.’

Fancy lay back against the pillows. ‘I’m so nice and warm, I can’t be bothered to get up. What a pity. I would like to have heard this speaker, too. Another time, perhaps. I can’t even remember his name.’

Her head was still fuzzy and she could not remember anything beyond being with Jed on the lawn. She was aware that she had very few clothes on and presumed that a nurse had taken them off her, though why she was not sure.

She was in her room, not in hospital, so that was reassuring. She seemed to be wrapped in a sheet like a mummy, a bit odd. And she did not smell the same. She smelt musty, and her hair felt awful. Surely she’d washed it only that morning?

‘I’ll say goodnight, young lady. No more gallivanting around the grounds unless you are with someone, preferably Jed. It might do you good to get up soon and move about the room or the corridor. You need some gentle exercise to keep your
circulation
going.’

‘What about food and drink?’ Jed asked.

‘No alcohol but a snack won’t hurt her, if Fancy feels like it.’

Dr Arthur hurried out of the room and closed the door. He wanted a seat near the front for a good view of the play. The week was going by too fast.

Jed had brought his laptop. He opened the lid and turned it on. ‘Will you mind if I do some work while you sleep?’ he said. ‘I’ve got some catching up to do.’

‘Are you writing a story?’ Fancy asked, sleepily. ‘Did you come to my lectures on crime writing?’

‘No, I didn’t come to any of them. I hear they were very good.’

‘I’ve got one more to do, the last one, and then I can go home. Home, sweet home. To my church lodge. Did I tell you I lived in part of an old church?’

‘Yes, you did. Do you want to go home?’ He was watching her face. She looked very peaceful, the colour coming back into her cheeks, her lashes sweeping. He hadn’t noticed before that she had long dark lashes.

‘Oh, yes, I think I want to go home,’ she said. ‘I’m used to my little place. It’s part of an old church, you know, so it’s blessed and holy. Very holy.’ She giggled, as if it was a joke. ‘Full of holes. But I don’t like all the traffic.’

She snuggled down, back in the bed, pulling the second duvet round her.

‘I need to get back to work,’ she went on, drowsily. ‘I have a December deadline. My publisher knows I always meet my deadlines. He relies on me. And I’ve been getting a new idea for a book while I’ve been here. I need to write the outline down before I forget it. I think I’ve already forgotten it.’

‘You could dictate some notes to me if you like, and I’ll print them out for you,’ Jed suggested.

‘I can’t do that,’ she said. ‘It spoils the magic to talk about a book before it is written. It has to stay here, inside me, till the first draft is down.’

‘The magic?’

‘Oh, yes, every book has its own magic.’

She was half-asleep again and Jed kept quiet, knowing sleep
was the great healer. He made sure she was tucked in and warm. He went back to his laptop and sent in a report of the current events. He repeated his request for backup. ‘A WPC is also
essential
. I can’t stay with Miss Jones all night.’

Though he would have liked to stay wrapped round Fancy. He knew that now.

Fancy woke an hour later, wondering where she was. Daylight had faded and there was only the desk lamp on. Jed was sitting at it, working on his laptop. She could hear the click of keys. It was soothing to have him there, though why he was there, she was not really sure.

It was her bedroom at the conference, she realized now,
recognizing
the Jacobean print curtains and the duvet. She saw the invitations she had stuck round the mirror and they reminded her that she had a party to go to that evening. Then there was supper and tonight’s entertaining speaker.

She lay there, wondering what to wear. She wanted to wear something special, something that Jed would like. Perhaps the black velvet skirt again and a white silk top that was decorated with tiny seed pearls. It was classy and elegant. He might take her dancing. She would like to go dancing again. One-armed dancing was easy to get used to.

‘Hello,’ she said, her nose peeping over the edge of the duvet.

‘Hello, sleeping beauty,’ he said.

‘Have I been asleep a long time?’

‘Quite a long time; several hundred years.’

‘Do I get a kiss to wake me up?’

‘If you would like one,’ he offered.

‘Sorry, I need the bathroom.’

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, trying to free them from the sheet.

‘I should keep the sheet on,’ said Jed. ‘You haven’t much else on.’

She took a few unsteady steps, Jed holding her arm. He guided her to the bathroom, put on the light. She saw a pile of
damp towels on the floor but there were dry towels hanging on the rail.

‘I brought some fresh clean towels up from my room,’ said Jed. ‘I thought you might want a shower once you’d woken up.’

‘What do you mean? Have I been asleep? How stupid of me.’

Once she had woken up? She had no idea what he was talking about, but when she saw her face and her hair in the mirror, she decided she certainly did need a shower. Her hair was a horrid mess of tangles and mud. It was a disaster.

‘I look dreadful,’ she muttered. ‘Excuse me,’ and she shut the door.

She barely had the strength to turn on the shower but somehow she managed it, lathering herself with jasmine gel and shampooing her hair. She didn’t take long over it as she felt too weak. She wrapped a bath towel round her and tottered back into the room, sitting heavily on the bed.

‘That was hard work,’ she said. ‘I’m worn out, exhausted.’

‘Are you feeling better?’ He noted the soft glow to her skin, the wet hair hanging over her shoulders. ‘You’re looking a lot better.’

‘I’m feeling a bit weak. Perhaps I’m hungry. I don’t remember when I last ate. It seems a long time ago.’