Doctor Who_ Deep Blue - Mark Morris [41]
„Charlotte, it‟s Mum. Are you up?‟
Her mother‟s voice crystallised her thoughts, cut through the last clinging threads of sleep. Sitting up, she called in a cracked voice, „Hang on a minute, Mum.‟
She took several deep breaths in an attempt to rouse herself and tried to rub the tiredness from her eyes before realising it was deeply ingrained in her body. She was halfway across the room when something on the carpet tugged at the edge of her vision. She looked down and saw the pregnancy testing kit. She scooped it up and shoved it into her suitcase, beneath her underwear. When she opened the door seconds later her smile belied her crashing heart.
„Hi, Mum,‟ she said, speaking quickly to hide what she felt sure was a guilty expression. „Are you OK?‟
Though she nodded, Imogen didn‟t look OK. She looked drawn, haggard.
„Not too bad,‟ she said. „I was so exhausted I slept like a log at any rate. How about you?‟
„Oh...I didn‟t sleep so well. I had too much stuff on my mind. You know?‟
Imogen gave a tight but sympathetic smile and reached out to touch her daughter‟s cheek. „I‟m sorry to burden you with all our problems - mine and Dad‟s, I mean. We should sort ourselves out, shouldn‟t we? Not heap it all on you.‟
Charlotte shrugged and tried to make a joke of it. „You need someone to sort you out.‟ Then she asked tentatively, „How is dad this morning?‟
„Still snoring. I‟ve left him to it. He‟ll have a killer of a hangover when he comes round, I shouldn‟t wonder, and it‟ll serve him right.‟
Charlotte‟s legs felt wobbly. She crossed back to the bed and sat down. „What time is it?‟
„Gone half ten. We‟ve missed breakfast, I‟m afraid.‟ Imogen gave a watery smile. „We‟re not really getting our money‟s worth out of this holiday so far, are we?‟
Charlotte yawned. Her eyelids felt full of grit. „It‟s OK. I‟m not really hungry anyway.‟
„Me neither. I could murder a coffee, though.‟ Imogen paused, then said, „Chris didn‟t come back last night.‟
„Didn‟t he?‟ said Charlotte neutrally.
„No. I think maybe I should call the police.‟
„I‟m sure he‟ll be OK, Mum,‟ Charlotte said. „He‟s probably staying away to punish us.‟
„All the same, it would set my mind at rest if the police at least knew he was...‟
A peculiar expression, somewhere between distress and confusion, crossed her face, and Charlotte knew her mum had balked at the word „missing‟. She understood why immediately. It sounded too ominous, too final.
„I‟ll come with you,‟ she said quickly. We‟ll go downstairs, ring the police, then we‟ll go out somewhere and treat ourselves to a really nice breakfast. Just give me ten minutes to get ready, OK?‟
„OK. You don‟t mind if I wait here for you, do you?‟
„No problem. I won‟t be long.‟
Though all Charlotte really wanted was to sink back on to her bed, close her eyes and blot out the world, she spent the next ten minutes making herself presentable. She had a wash and brushed her teeth, promising herself that tonight, without fail, she would have that lovely warm bath she‟d been so looking forward to. She scraped her hair back into a ponytail. She dressed in shorts and a pink sleeveless top, wondering how long it would be before her bump started to show.
She was desperate to tell Mum about the baby, but she knew this wasn‟t the right time. She‟d know when the moment arrived, she told herself. Everything would come together and she would just know.
She was about to announce that she was ready when there came three sharp raps on the door. Charlotte and Imogen looked at each other, Imogen‟s face a mixture of alarm and hope. Charlotte crossed to the door and opened it. The slight, vulture-like figure of Mrs Macau stood there.
„There are two gentlemen to see you downstairs,‟ she announced before Charlotte could say anything. She was already turning away when Imogen, still sitting on the unmade bed, stammered, What... who... who are they?‟
„Police officers,‟ Mrs Macau said, the disapproval evident in her voice.
Imogen paled. „Police officers?‟
„Did they say what they wanted?‟ Charlotte asked quickly.
„I didn