Chance-met Stranger Read online

  'Don't be silly. Look, we'll come and get you, you can come back here for a few days, out of his way, until we can sort it out. Terry won't know where you are. Pack a case, and we'll be there in less than an hour.'

  She listened to Liz's sobs, now more of relief than fear, and eventually managed to end the call.

  'I gathered some of that,' Manuel said. ' Tell me as we go. It'll be quicker if you come with me to get my car. But it won't take a moment to change into something more suitable for being cried over.'

  Janie choked back a laugh. Liz was in plenty of trouble, but it would not help if her new silk dress were ruined. She nodded, and went into the bedroom, slipped out of the dress and dragged on jeans, a thick sweater, and trainers. Manuel was waiting by the door, her small evening bag in his hand. 'Is this enough? Do you have all you might need? Don't forget your keys.'

  He really didn't live far away, just a couple of blocks. They hurried through the quiet streets, and he explained that he had a flat in one of the older Victorian houses, one which had not been demolished to build a small block of flats, like the one Janie lived in. She was too worried about Liz and her problems to take much notice of her surroundings, but she saw that his car was parked in a wide driveway. He handed her in and swiftly got it going.

  It was low-slung, and comfortable, but Janie hardly noticed, she was working out the best route to Liz's house once they reached Bristol. Manuel seemed to know the way, and only asked for directions as they joined the Bristol bypass.

  Janie had told him all she knew, all Liz had told her, and he had not tried to play down the gravity of the situation. She was grateful. False optimism would have grated. She didn't herself know how she could help Liz, but her sister had clearly once more attracted a man who could be violent, and at least she could protect her from his fury.

  When Manuel pulled up outside an old, dilapidated house, Janie climbed out of the car.

  'Wait, I'll come in with you. In case Terry is there.'

  But before they had walked up the short path the door opened, and a distraught Liz almost fell out onto the step.

  'Janie, I thought you'd never get here!'

  Janie suppressed the retort that they'd done the journey in record time, thanks to Manuel. 'Calm down, Liz. You're safe now. Where's your case?'

  'Here it is,' a new voice said, and a girl Liz's age came out of the hall carrying a large holdall.

  Manuel took it from her, put a protective arm about Liz, and began to lead her towards the car.

  Janie turned to thank the girl. 'It's Rosa, isn't it? I remember you.'

  'You won't tell Terry where I am?' Liz demanded, suddenly turning back, looking anxious again.

  'I won't know where you are, I don't know Janie's new address,' Rosa said, casting her eyes upwards. 'Don't worry, Liz! You'll be safe while it's all sorted out. And I wouldn't tell that baboon Terry Hughes even if I did know.'

  Liz looked doubtful, but responded to Manuel's gentle urgings and went towards the car again.

  Janie glanced at Rosa, who shrugged. 'I'll ring you tomorrow?' Janie said quietly.

  'Sure. She's besotted, she won't tell you the truth,' Rosa whispered back. 'I work at the Crown Hotel, you can get me there during office hours.'

  'Thanks.'

  They didn't speak on the way home. Liz was in shock, and when she fell asleep Janie knew it was the best thing for her. At home Liz staggered into the flat, meekly accepted a drink of hot milk and a sleeping tablet, and was almost immediately fast asleep in Janie's bed.

  Manuel was in the sitting room when Janie went back, idly looking through Janie's books which were piled on the floor.

  'Thank you,' Janie said quietly. 'I don't know how to thank you.'

  'No need. But let me know if there is anything more I can do. Where are you going to sleep?'

  For a moment Janie though he was offering her a bed at his flat, then she told herself not to be stupid, and thrust away the thought.

  'The settee,' she said, indicating it. 'I've done it often enough before. That's why I bought such a big one.'

  'Do you want to talk? I could do with a coffee.'

  Janie sighed. 'So could I!'

  She made a potful, tipped one of the packets of chocolate biscuits on a plate, and carried the tray back into the sitting room. Manuel took it from her and put it on a small table, then he poured coffee into two mugs, stirred in sugar despite Janie's protest that she never had it, and added cream.

  'I don't know if sweet coffee is as good as sweet tea,' he said, with that devastating smile, 'but it can't hurt you.'

  'What will they do? The police, I mean. To Liz.'

  She didn't pause to think it was odd for her to be asking him, who had lived in another country for most of his life, what the English police were likely to do about law breaking. Somehow he inspired confidence, and unlike some men didn't run away when trouble loomed. Trouble which had nothing to do with him, she reminded herself, once more feeling guilty.

  'It depends on the circumstances, whether the accident was in any way her fault, due to dangerous driving or a car which was unroadworthy, for instance, or whether the other driver was to blame.'

  'She said the other car cut in front of her, so surely he was responsible?'

  'We'll soon know. They'll charge her with driving while uninsured, maybe taking away if she didn't have permission to drive it, I guess. It could depend on how vindictive the boyfriend is. If he says she had permission to drive, she could get away with that, but from what she says he's not the type. I hope it will be just a fine.'

  Janie groaned. 'And she has no money. As for Terry, from what she said I suspect he'll be more concerned about his car than Liz. Why do some women always go for men who aren't in any way decent? She even had a fling with Brian when she was barely sixteen, and he was a dozen years older and anyone with half a brain can see he's mean and vicious and unreliable.'

  Manuel grinned, but ignored this sidetracking. 'Does she exaggerate? Is she really so afraid of him?'

  'She dramatises, she always has, but I think this was real.'

  Suddenly it was all too much, and Janie covered her eyes as they filled with tears. When Manuel pulled her towards him and began stroking her hair she gave way, her pent-up anxieties overcoming her.

  'I'm sorry,' she muttered into his shirt. 'I'll be OK in a minute.'

  'You've been strong up to now for Liz, you have the right to relax a while. And don't worry about my shirt, it can stand a few tears.'

  Janie sniffed, and laughter mingled with her sobs. She tried to push herself away, but found herself imprisoned in his arms.

  'Relax, I'm comfortable, and I like holding you. Now, what can I do tomorrow?'

  'Don't you have to work?' Janie asked. It was dreadfully tempting to think she could rely on him, but she had to be strong.

  'I can take a few days off. No problem.'

  Guiltily Janie wondered whether his absence would cause other people to be let down in their removal plans. 'Can they spare you? Your firm? Have they other men to cover for you?'

  'I said, no problem. I'll do what I can to help, talk to the police, this other man's solicitor, if he has one, whatever.'

  'It would be a help,' Janie admitted. 'I have a feeling I'll be fully occupied soothing Liz.'

  'That's settled. I'll come round at nine. Will that be too early?'

  'No. And thank you. I don't know why you should help us like this. You only met me this morning.'

  'Yesterday morning. It's well after midnight. Now, don't worry, and try to sleep.'

  He dropped a light kiss on her forehead and gently put her aside as he stood up. 'Lock the door after me. And don't worry.'

  ***

  Chapter 3

  Janie was woken at half past seven when Liz went through to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

  'I'm so afraid, I can't sleep,' Liz said, sniffing. 'What's going to happen? I'm sorry I woke you,' she added belatedly.

  'I didn't sleep mu
ch either,' Janie told her, yawning. 'Make me a cup too. I want to hear exactly what happened.'

  An hour later Janie had heard the whole story from a tearful, still shocked, and horribly frightened Liz. At least, she thought she had disentangled the main facts from Liz's rambling, disjointed mixture of excuses and worries, but some things still puzzled her.

  'Mike Bowcott will tell Terry what the other man was threatening,' Liz concluded.

  'So Mike took the car away. Had the police been by then? Did they let him?'

  'He got there first, and he said they wouldn't be interested, they'd want the road cleared. And the constable who took my name and address didn't seem to care.'

  'You'll have to let the police know you're here,' she told her sister. 'Don't worry, they won't tell Terry. Do you want more toast? There's some left.'

  Liz shook her head. 'No thanks. He'll expect me to pay for the car, though,' she said. 'And I'm overdrawn to my limit at the bank, and owe hundreds on my credit card.'

  Janie suppressed a hot retort. It wouldn't help. She reflected grimly that she would no doubt be expected to bail her sister out of trouble, yet again. Half of the cash Aunt Jane had left her had already gone towards paying for Liz to have secretarial training, buying her a car, and contributing towards the deposit on her flat, not to mention many smaller loans when her sister had been unable to find a job. Their parents had suffered severe losses on some investments, and now lived on a very small pension, so could do little to help.

  'You'll have to sell your car, leave the flat, and come to live with me until you get straight,' she decided. 'At least you won't have to pay rent, and there will be some sort of job you can do round here, even if it's stacking supermarket shelves. That will pay for your food, and you can save something.'

  Liz began to protest that she didn't want to be away from all her friends in Bristol, but when Janie held up her hand she subsided.

  'You don't have much option, especially if you want to keep out of Terry's way.'

  Liz shivered. 'He'll want to kill me.'

  'Was his car totally wrecked? And how did you get off without more than bruises if it was?'

  'I didn't follow what Mike said about the car when he took it away.'

  'Did he have a good look at it then? Could he be sure?'

  'He looked at it when he got it back to his workshop, and rang me. I'd been at the hospital. It was something about all the panels being dented, and it would be too expensive to find replacements. There aren't many that size, or something, or not many of this model were ever made. And the car wasn't worth spending on anyway, it had done too many miles.'

  'That's the first cheerful thing I've heard. Why is Terry so attached to it?'

  'It's unusual, I suppose. I don't know much about cars.'

  'At least you didn't wreck this year's Porsche. What sort of car was the other one?'

  Liz shook her head. 'I said, I can't tell them apart. But I haven't any money to pay for it, even if I did know. And even if they don't send me to prison, surely there'll be a huge fine.'

  'They won't send you to prison, don't be such a pessimist.'

  'They will if I can't pay the fine. And if the other driver sues.'

  'He may not. It depends if it was his fault. He was trying it on, hoping to scare you, I expect.'

  Janie struggled with her conscience. She had so loved owning her own house, and though she regretted losing the cottage, she had, in a way, begun looking forward to buying a house she could choose for herself. Now that prospect looked bleak. By the time she'd helped Liz she'd be lucky to have enough left for a deposit, and on her salary as a nurse she wouldn't be able to afford much of a mortgage.

  'Don't worry,' she said, suppressing a sigh. 'I've got the money from the house. I'll help you.'

  Liz burst into tears of relief. 'Oh, Janie, I'm so afraid of Terry. I'll pay you back, when I can.'

  Not in a million years, Janie thought ruefully. Liz had been jealous, she knew, when Aunt Jane had left everything to her, but Liz hadn't been her godchild. Perhaps she saw this as her right. On the other hand she had been delicate as a child, over-indulged, their parents' favourite daughter. While Janie had been rebellious and independent, Liz had been compliant, the good one. Yet Liz would never appeal to them for help, even if they could have afforded to give it. Was she afraid of destroying the image they had of her as a sweet little girl?

  She sent Liz back to bed, telling her to try and sleep again now she knew the problem of money had been settled. 'You'll feel better by the afternoon. Then we can start to deal with it.'

  Janie was sitting at the table, trying to work out how much she had in the bank, when the doorbell rang. She glanced at her watch. Manuel was early, it was barely half past eight.

  When she flung open the door, however, it was Brian standing on the step. He looked remarkably pleased with himself, and Janie frowned. She knew from previous experience that when Brian was in a complacent mood it usually meant he was about to be unpleasant.

  'This is a bit of a comedown after the cottage, isn't it?' he said, stepping inside before she could bar the way.

  'I'm renting it while I look round for a house,' Janie told him, thinking that now she would probably be renting it for years to come.

  He turned and grinned at her. 'That's good. It means we can split the proceeds.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'How about a coffee, Janie? Let's talk this over in a civilised manner.'

  Before she could tell him to go to hell he had walked into the living room, and seen her spare duvet on the settee.

  'Visitors already? Surely your boyfriend wasn't content with sleeping here? Or didn't he want to share your bed? I can understand that, I wouldn't have lived in the cottage with you, let alone a bed.'

  'Don't worry, you'll never have the chance of either, even though at one time you were only too eager to crawl into bed with me!'

  He ignored her. 'But now things are different. I know how much you got for it, and how much cash Aunt Jane left you. We can sell her antiques at auction, and split the profits evenly.'

  Janie laughed. How stupid did he think she was? 'She was not your aunt and she didn't leave you anything, so you needn't think I'm going to hand over her money!'

  'I was her nephew,' he began, but Janie, by now incandescent with fury, interrupted him.

  'Your father married Aunt Jane's sister,' she said fiercely, 'and that doesn't make you any sort of relative of hers! Besides, she was free to leave her money to whoever she wanted.'

  'But she did, Janie, and it wasn't to you.'

  'What nonsense is this?'

  'She made a new will.'

  'What? I don't believe it!'

  'It was sent to me a few days ago. You remember that old kitchen dresser you sold?'

  Janie narrowed her eyes. 'Of course I do. What about it?'

  'The will was stuck behind one of the drawers, and it so happened a friend of mine was in the shop you sold it to, when they found it and passed it on to me. I'm going to take it to a solicitor today. Everything is left to me.'

  Janie was frantically trying to remember. The old dresser would not have fitted in the flat, and she doubted whether it would in any modern house, with fitted kitchens. It hadn't been worth a great deal, it was no antique, just a rather roughly made deal dresser. Janie hadn't seen why the bulldozers should have it, though, when she could sell it for a few pounds. But she was certain she had taken all the drawers out and cleaned it thoroughly before she'd sold it to the dealer.

  'You couldn't have a genuine will like that,' she said. 'You probably forged it.'

  'Do you want to test that in the courts?'

  Janie closed her eyes. Not another court case on top of Liz's. It was too much all at once.

  'Come on, Janie, you know we'd both lose more to the lawyers than it's worth. I'm offering you a generous deal. Half the amount Aunt Jane left. We'll share, equally.'

  'What about me?'

  Janie swung round
. Liz, wearing an oversized tee shirt as a nightdress, was standing in the bedroom doorway. Brian whistled admiringly.

  'Liz! What a sight for sore eyes. So you're the mystery visitor. What are you doing here? You live in Bristol. Or you did when I met you at that New Year party.'

  'Why do you want Janie's money?' Liz asked, and Janie saw that she was looking frightened again.

  'Liz, Aunt Jane's will is nothing to do with you. Go back to bed and try to rest.'

  'But you're planning to give him half your money! And you said you'd help me! There won't be enough for us all.'

  'I'm not planning to give Brian anything,' Janie snapped. Did everyone want her just for the money?

  At that moment Manuel appeared in the doorway.

  'Sorry to barge in, but your front door was open, and I wondered whether you were OK.'

  Janie felt an irrational stab of relief. He would sort it all out. Then she chided herself for being naive. Manuel had been kind yesterday, but she barely knew him, and he had nothing to do with either Liz or Brian. They were her problems.

  He was looking at Brian with a decidedly unfriendly expression on his face. Brian, glancing round nervously, began to edge towards the door.

  'That's all I have to say, Janie. I'll be off now. Think it over, and I'll see you tomorrow after I've consulted my solicitor.'

  He sidled out of the door, scurrying as Manuel followed him into the tiny hallway. Despite her worries, Janie was amused. Then the front door slammed and Manuel came back into the room. Before he could speak Liz had burst into angry speech.

  'Janie, it's not fair! You promised to help me, and now you're suggesting sharing it with him!'

  'Liz, I didn't! That was his suggestion! If you're not going to sleep, go and get dressed while I make some coffee for us all. Manuel, have you had breakfast?'

  'Yes, but I'll have coffee please. Now, what is all this?' he added, following her into the kitchen while Liz hovered in the doorway. 'What was that man doing here? Was he bothering you?'

  'You could say that!' Janie filled the kettle and began to spoon coffee into the cafetière. 'He claims he found another will, and that Aunt Jane left everything to him.'