‘I’m just tying off the last stitch then she’s good to go. Did someone give you the concussion checklist?’ he asked Ros.
‘I’ve got it,’ said Cameron. ‘I’ll take good care of her.’
‘I know you will,’ said Barry. Ros was heartened by the look that passed between the two men.
‘What were you doing on a boat with a con man?’ asked Amanda.
Ros replayed the whole thing in her mind. ‘It’s too complicated to explain. But in summary, not my con man, not my boat, simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘You’ll need to speak to the police,’ said Darla to Ros. ‘Patrick could have . . .’ Darla swallowed hard; the events had obviously upset her.
‘Killed her?’ prompted Amanda. ‘I suppose that could have been the case.’ She turned to Cameron. ‘Was that why you called us?’
‘I was worried she was not going to let them treat her and I thought if you were here . . .’ he nodded at Barry ‘. . . she’d listen to you.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Barry with a warm smile at his daughter. ‘But I’m glad you called us,’ he added.
Ros pressed her lips together. She knew this was one of those moments when it was best that she kept her thoughts to herself. She also knew that whatever Cameron had done, however rash, he would have done it with her best interests in mind.
The nurse began removing things around them. ‘All done,’ said the doctor. ‘You’ll need to get in touch with your GP practice about getting the stitches removed in ten days.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ros and Barry shook the doctor’s hand.
‘Let’s get you home,’ said Cameron, sliding an arm around her to help her to her feet.
‘Are we all going back to Ros’s?’ asked Barry.
‘No,’ said Ros and Cameron together.
‘I think it’s best that she rests,’ said Cameron. ‘I’ll call you later to let you know how she is.’
‘But I will be fine,’ said Ros.
Cameron held her gently around her waist and guided her out of the cubicle and into the corridor. ‘I felt I needed backup so I called Barry. Sorry,’ he whispered in her ear.
‘You should be,’ she whispered back with a smile.
***
After the hospital Darla went to the police station to give a statement. She knew if she didn’t do it as soon as possible she’d only keep putting it off. The police officer she saw was patient and understanding, and giving a statement was a lot easier than she’d expected, but then she’d only ever seen TV programmes where police were interrogating the bad guys. Next she went to see the owner of the boat. She’d given his details to the police so she guessed if he hadn’t already he’d be getting a visit from them. His house was just as she’d expected: modern, stylish and blooming huge. She knocked on his door and waited. A heavily made-up woman in her forties opened it.
‘Yeah?’ She was scanning Darla up and down as if expecting her to be delivering something.
‘Hi, I’m here to see Mr Rogers.’
‘He’s out. I’m his wife. What did you want him for?’
Darla rummaged in her bag. This might be the cheat’s way out but she was going to take it. ‘Please can you give him these? They’re the keys to his yacht. I’m Darla and I suspect he won’t want me cleaning it after today so—’
‘Oh hell, you’re the girl who was kidnapped? Come in,’ she said, taking Darla by the arm and giving her no choice as she pulled her inside.
‘Actually it only drifted like a couple of feet away from the pontoon before we got wedged so I wasn’t really kid—’
‘Let me get you a drink. Tea, coffee, something stronger for your nerves? Brandy!’ But before Darla could choose the woman had disappeared, leaving Darla alone in the vast hallway. She reversed back and grinned at Darla. ‘This way, lovey, come and sit down and you can tell me all about it.’
The living room was huge and had three very large white leather sofas. Darla perched on the edge of the nearest one and noticed the seat was covered in muddy paw prints. The woman held out a large brandy. ‘Actually, I’ve got my car so I won’t have a drink but thank you,’ said Darla, keen to hand over the keys and leave.
‘After the shock you’ve had, leave your car here and I’ll pay for a taxi home. Get that down you.’
Darla stared at the glass.
‘I insist,’ said the woman, who didn’t look like she was going to give in easily.
The stalemate got the better of her and Darla took the brandy. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’m forgetting my manners. My name’s Margy.’ She offered a limp hand, which Darla shook.
Margy came to sit next to her. She rubbed at the ingrained dirt on the seat before sitting down. ‘Blooming dogs. I love them but the mess they make.’
‘White vinegar and water,’ said Darla almost automa-tically.
‘That won’t go with brandy.’
‘No, for the stains. Mix equal parts white vinegar and water and dab it on the muddy patches, leave it for five minutes and then wipe off with a clean damp cloth.’
‘I’ll tell my cleaner to try that. Is it a secret formula?’
‘I work a lot with animals.’ Darla sipped the brandy and it almost took her breath away. ‘I expect Mr Rogers is quite cross, is he?’
