Death of a Valentine - M. C. Beaton [78]
Over breakfast the next morning, Elspeth noticed that Hamish was glowing with happiness and excitement. “I think I’ll take myself off for a look at the shops this morning,” said Hamish. “Don’t bother coming with me.”
“I’ll probably stay here on the terrace and read,” said Elspeth. She was suddenly determined to follow him. She felt he was up to something.
Hamish stopped in front of a jewellers’ window. Then he went inside the shop. The door was open. Elspeth heard him saying, “I’m looking for an engagement ring.”
So that was that, thought Elspeth. That phone call and then all his happiness and excitement at breakfast. Priscilla must have arrived back from Australia and he must have proposed to her on the phone. And he didn’t say a word to me!
I have risked my career for that bastard, she thought as she returned to her room and hurriedly packed. I am not even going to leave a note for him. I just want out of here.
When Hamish returned to the hotel, he went straight up to Elspeth’s room. There was no reply to his knock. He decided to go down onto the hotel terrace and wait for her.
After an hour, he went in to the desk and asked if Miss Grant had left a message for him.
He was told to his horror that Miss Grant had checked out. He took a taxi to the airport. He was just in time to see Elspeth disappearing through Departures.
“Elspeth!” he shouted. But she did not turn round. He tried to get through into Departures but was told he could not pass. He begged and pleaded. He said he was a police officer, but to no avail.
What had gone wrong? If she had been called back to Glasgow, why had she not left a note for him?
But as he wearily returned to the hotel, he began to feel very stupid indeed. He had kissed her good night on the cheek but, apart from that, he had not shown any romantic feelings towards her. Perhaps she had felt she had done enough for him and had got bored.
By evening, though, a strange thing had happened. With Elspeth gone, he could not remember what had prompted him to want to propose. When she was with him, he felt their companionship was so strong that surely he was in love with her. But if he were in love, he should be feeling heartbroken. He decided to treat himself to a lobster dinner that evening and forget about the whole sorry business.
Flora was seriously worried. Josie was hardly ever sober. At last, she confronted her daughter. “Josie, either you go to an AA meeting or I’m turning you out.”
“You wouldn’t,” gasped Josie.
“I would that. Here’s the address. Get yourself along there this evening. You haven’t started drinking yet today and you’re not going to. I’m going to watch you like a hawk every minute.”
Flora drove Josie to a church hall that evening and said grimly, “I’ll be back to pick you up when the meeting is over.”
Josie walked into the hall. All the faces seemed like a blur. She sat down at a large table. The meeting began. The secretary said, “As usual at this meeting, we go round the room and introduce ourselves.”
When it reached Josie, she clasped her shaking hands and said, “My name is Josie, and I am an alcoholic.” And with that, she burst into tears. The man seated next to her put an arm around her shoulders. “You’ll be all right,” he said, handing her a clean handkerchief.
Josie barely listened to the speaker. The man next to her had his hands on the table. She could see his sleeve and an edge of white shirt with cuff links. He was wearing a gold watch. Josie dried her eyes and stole a look at his face. It was a square handsome face, and he had blue eyes.
At the end of the meeting, she said, “Can you help me?”
“We could go for a coffee, if you like,” he said.
“Oh, my mother will be waiting outside to take me home.”
“It’s important you get help,” he said. “We’ll tell her I’ll drive you home.”
Josie’s mind rocketed into romance immediately. He looked rich. He was miles better