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She poured water into her hands again and ran them through her hair, slicking it back from her face. She couldn’t languish in here forever, no matter how tempting it might seem. But she really didn’t want to go back and sit with the others. What she had witnessed on the patio had left her badly frightened. She just wanted to go home.

As she stared at herself in the mirror a movement behind her diverted her attention. The wall was moving, rippling slightly, white tiles starting to buckle and lift. As she watched, one came loose and fell, but instead of crashing to the floor it seemed to float down like tissue paper in an almost endless descent. It finally reached the stone floor and then exploded into a thousand jagged white pieces. But the explosion was silent, gentle.

One by one the tiles dropped from the wall, each taking a balletic eternity to land and smash. In falling they exposed a rough brick wall, russet red and dusty. She turned away from the mirror and went to investigate, her feet crunching over broken tiles. She traced the line of mortar between the bricks with her fingertip. It was powdery, insubstantial, crumbling away under her touch. As she prodded one of the bricks it wobbled slightly. The place is falling apart, she thought.

As if to echo her thoughts, the brick she was prodding slid backwards and fell into the cavity behind the wall. Again, like the tiles, the sound of the brick falling was muffled, as if it had dropped onto a cushion of foam rubber. She peered through the gap left by the brick but could see only blackness. She pressed against the surrounding brickwork and felt it give under the pressure. As more bricks started to tumble, a white hand thrust out through the gap and grabbed her around the throat.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘She’s been in there for ages,’ Sheila said. ‘I’m going to see if she’s all right.’

‘You only checked ten minutes ago,’ Johnson said, lighting another cigarette and blowing smoke in her direction. ‘Yes, and now I’m going to check again. Or do you have a problem with that?’

Johnson shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’ Sheila glared at him. ‘Don’t worry, I will.’ Asshole! She thought as she walked along the dimly lit corridor to the bathroom. Andrew Johnson was starting to get on her nerves and she wondered now how she had once found him attractive. Thoughts of last year’s Christmas party insinuated their way into her mind and she shuddered at the memories of hurried sex behind the photocopier in the machine room; his hands inside her blouse and down her pan ties; fumbling fingers trying and failing to bring her to orgasm. Her lips wrapped around his…Stop it! Stop thinking about it. She’d been drunk; one too many Tia Marias, and the hangover of a blazing row with her husband, making her act out of character. Andrew Johnson was a chancer, an opportunist whose sexual radar had locked in on her vulnerability. Andrew Johnson was a slug and she forced herself to push him from her mind.

‘Jo? You’ve been ages. Are you sure you’re all right?’ She tapped on the bathroom door again, pressing her ear to the wood, listening for the reply and getting only silence. ‘Jo?’ She curled her fingers around the door handle, ready to turn it. Still nothing. Perhaps she’d passed out. She turned the handle and pushed the door open.

The bathroom was empty. Sheila frowned. Maybe she’d gone back to the bedroom, but it didn’t seem likely given what had happened. This was not the time to be anywhere in this house on your own. She could still hear conversation buzzing in the bar, drawing her back. She closed the bathroom door and hurried back along the corridor.

‘She’s not there,’ she said as she entered the bar.

‘Where is she then?’ Eddie Farrant said. The attention he was giving to his drink showed how deep his concern went.

‘How the hell should I know?’ Sheila snapped. She was beginning to feel real impatience with Andy and Eddie, not to mention the bloody island.

‘Tetchy,’ Johnson said, a slight sneer on his lips.

‘Piss off!’

‘All right, settle down,’ Michael Bennett said. ‘Getting edgy with each other won’t solve anything. We’d better search the house for her.’

‘That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it, Mike?’ Johnson said. ‘She’s probably gone up to her room.’

‘Then we’ll go and check.’ When he needed to be, Bennett could adopt the leader role, he just didn’t choose to do it enough of the time.

‘You can go. I’ve just made myself comfortable. Free booze. What could be better?’ Johnson was being deliberately provocative, fueled by the alcohol.

‘Free booze and no guts,’ Sheila said, glaring across at Johnson.

He raised his glass to her and smiled. ‘Need any photocopying done, Sheil?’

‘Prick!’ Sheila said with anger.

‘Sheila!’ Bennett said.

‘Well he is,’ Sheila said with passion, but hoped no one realized what Johnson’s remark meant.

‘Agreed, but standing here sniping with each other won’t help find Jo. Come with me. We’ll check out her room.’

‘Shouldn’t we all go?’ Casey Faraday looked pale and frightened. She chewed her bottom lip and tears were welling in her eyes.

‘Good idea,’ Bennett said. ‘Best that we all stick together. Eddie, Andrew, come on.’

With a theatrical sigh Andrew Johnson put his glass down on the table and shuffled himself to his feet. ‘Bloody waste of time,’ he said.

Bennett walked over to him and spoke softly so the others couldn’t hear. ‘If you want a job when you get back from here, stop acting like a moron. You may think you’re Jack the lad, but just remember, when we get back to Waincraft, I’m still your superior, and I can make life bloody difficult for you.’

Anger flared in Andrew Johnson’s eyes. His mouth opened, but he bit back the words and forced a smile. ‘No problem, Mike,’ he said.

‘Good,’ Bennett said. ‘Now, come on.’ And to his surprise the whole team moved as one.

Jo Madley’s bedroom, the room all the girls were sharing, was empty. Her bed was neatly made and a few pieces of clothing hung from hangers hooked over the handles of the wardrobe door. On the dressing table was a cluster of her cosmetics; on the bedside table a paperback book, open, facedown, spine straining.

Johnson glanced down at the title of the book and smirked. Change Your Life in Five Days. We’ll she’d certainly done that.

‘We’ll try the other rooms, then move on up to the staff quarters,’ Michael Bennett said. ‘She’s got to be here somewhere.’

‘Has she?’ Sheila said quietly. ‘After what we witnessed on the patio, I would have thought that all bets were off.’

Bennett looked at her tight-lipped and walked from the room.

The rest of the Manse was empty.

‘This is pointless,’ Johnson said. ‘She’s not here. Let’s go back to the bar.’

‘ To do what?’ Bennett said. ‘Sit there and get pissed?’

‘That’s better than roaming about the house aimlessly,’ Eddie Farrant said. ‘We’re not going to find her.’

‘What makes you so bloody sure, Eddie?’ Casey Faraday said. Her voice had a hysterical edge. Bennett looked at her sharply. She was on the edge and the slightest thing might push her over.