They were neat as dolls’ houses, thought Gemma as she studied the two-storied terraces lining Ufford Street. The houses looked cheerful even on such a gray day, the red tile roofs steeply peaked, the gables white, the narrow front doors a glossy black. Most of the houses, she noticed, sported flowered number plaques and hanging baskets. A black iron fence ran the length of the terrace, separating tiny front gardens from the street. A glance towards the end of the street revealed a massive gray brick warehouse and, looming above it, the unexpected silhouette of the Millennium Wheel.
“It’s easy to forget how close we are to the Thames,” said Winnie, following Gemma’s gaze as they crossed the road. “And that everything here in Southwark used to revolve around the river. The churches still hold remembrance masses for those lost at sea.” She opened one of the iron gates and led Gemma up to a covered porch. A wheelchair ramp bridged a slight incline to the front door. She rang the bell, then opened the door and called out, “Fanny? It’s Winnie. I’ve brought a friend.”
“Oh, what a lovely smell,” exclaimed Gemma as she followed Winnie into a sitting room as green and flowery as a cottage garden brought indoors.
“Do you like it?” The woman in the wheelchair rolled towards them, her small oval face lit with pleasure. “It’s one of my candles. I make them, from soy wax and essential oils. This one’s a blend of bergamot, lavender, and ylang-ylang – it’s meant to be calming.” On a small table near her chair, a candle burned in a green glass jar. Beside it lay a walk-about phone.
“Fanny single-handedly supports the church bazaar,” added Winnie, when she’d introduced Gemma. “Her candles are the biggest seller. It’s not only the scents that are wonderful – she uses all sorts of things for containers. Teacups, antique glass jars, flowerpots-”
“Basically, anything I can get my hands on,” Fanny explained. “I used to haunt car boot sales; now I have to make do with what friends bring me. Elaine-” She stopped, her voice suddenly unsteady.
Winnie pulled up a chair for Gemma before sitting on the end of the chaise longue. “Have you heard from her?” she asked Fanny.
On closer inspection, Gemma saw that Fanny Liu looked tired, and that her dark eyes were red-rimmed as if she’d been weeping.
“No.” Fanny shook her head. “Nothing. I tried her office again, just in case.”
“And you’ve rung her mobile phone?” Gemma asked.
“She doesn’t have one. An unnecessary expense, she said. Elaine likes to mind her pennies.” Fanny studied Gemma for a moment, her head tilted to one side. “Winnie said you had something to do with the police, that you could advise us. But you’re not quite what I expected.”
“No uniform?” Gemma smiled. “I’m in CID. We wear plain clothes. Why don’t you tell me about your friend?” she added, leaning forward in her chair, her hands clasped on her knee. “Start from the beginning.”
“Her name is Elaine Holland. She-” Fanny’s voice wavered and cracked. “She – she works in the medical records department at Guy’s Hospital. She’s an administrative assistant.”
“Winnie said she rents a room from you,” prompted Gemma, when Fanny paused. “How did the two of you get together?”
“I posted a notice on the hospital board. I was a nurse before my illness, so I knew it was a good way to find someone compatible. I offered a reduced rent, in return for help with chores around the house and shopping. Elaine was the first applicant I had and we made a deal on the spot.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Almost two years.”
Gemma smiled. “So you must have got on quite well.”
“I- yes, we did. We do.”
“You said this morning that her parents were dead, and she hadn’t any siblings,” put in Winnie. “But what about a boyfriend or an ex-husband? Or a school friend? Is there anyone else she might have gone to?”
“Elaine didn’t – Elaine doesn’t like to talk about personal things,” Fanny said quietly, not meeting their eyes, and Gemma thought that Elaine’s reticence must have hurt her. “But I don’t think she’s ever been married. Somehow I can’t imagine her married,” she added, trying for a smile.
“And she never brought anyone here, to the flat?”
Fanny shook her head. “Never. I told her she was welcome to have her friends in, when she first arrived, but then after a while the subject just never came up. I suppose we got into a routine.”
A slight thump came from the kitchen, and a black-and-white cat appeared in the sitting room doorway. It regarded them seriously for a moment, as if assessing their suitability as guests, before jumping into its mistress’s lap and curling into a ball. “This is Quinn,” Fanny explained to Gemma, stroking the cat. “He has his own cat flap so that I don’t have to let him in and out of the garden. Elaine’s allergic to cats, so it’s better if he doesn’t spend all day in the house. Then she’s all right as long as he stays out of her bedroom, but you know how cats are – it’s a battle of wits between them. If she leaves her door open for a minute he’s in like a shot.”
Gemma smiled, thinking of their cat, Sid, and his unerring talent for picking out those with feline phobia. “Did Elaine have any other health problems that you know of?” she asked. “Seizures? A bad heart?”
“No, not that she ever mentioned. But she was good at looking after others – I mean, she knew how to do… things.” A flush of embarrassment rose in Fanny’s cheeks. “I asked her once, in the beginning, if she’d done any nursing, but she said no. She was a bit sharp about it, to be honest.” She looked up, meeting Gemma’s gaze. “You think she’s fallen ill somewhere. But Winnie’s already rung the hospitals…”
“I think it’s a possibility we have to consider.” Gemma looked round the room, suddenly aware of the one thing missing in the clutter. “Fanny, do you have a photo of Elaine?”
“No.” She frowned, as if the realization surprised her. “I can’t remember there ever being an occasion to take one.”
“She didn’t bring any photos of her own?”
“Not unless they’re upstairs in her room.”
Winnie gave Gemma a quick negative shake of her head.
Glancing at her friend, Gemma thought it was no wonder Winnie had rung her. All her instincts told her there was something not quite right here. “Why don’t you give me a description, then?” she suggested to Fanny.
“Well, she’s about my age, midthirties, I’d say.” Fanny looked at Winnie as if for verification and Winnie nodded.
“You don’t know exactly?” Gemma asked, curious.
“Elaine didn’t hold with birthdays,” Fanny murmured, her hands twisting in the cat’s fur, but he only stirred a little and narrowed his eyes.
“Okay.” Gemma smiled, trying to put her at ease. “What else?”
“Um, she’s tallish. Fair-complexioned. Brown hair, about like this” – Fanny held a hand level with her chin- “with a bit of wave to it. Light brown eyes.”
“I think that’s good enough for a report. We can just ring-”
Fanny was shaking her head, her eyes wide with distress. “I told Winnie I didn’t want anything official. I don’t want-”
“Look, I understand you don’t want to upset your friend.” Gemma tried to soothe the woman’s agitation. “But I think you have a serious welfare concern here, and for Elaine’s sake, you must report her disappearance to the police. What if she’s lying ill somewhere and needs help? We’ll ring the local station, then Winnie and I can wait with you until they send someone round.”
“You’d do that?” Fanny sounded surprised, and Gemma wondered how much support Elaine had actually provided.
“Of course we would,” Winnie assured her.
Fanny closed her eyes for a moment, her hands still on the cat’s back. Then she sighed, as if coming to a decision, and looked up at Gemma. “Okay. But will you call?” She nodded towards the phone. “I – I don’t want to have to explain why I can’t come in to the station.”