Chapter 20

Later, all three supplied with drinks and seated round the table, he filled them in on what he'd found out so far.

"Definitely no reports of any disappearance or suspicious circumstances to the local police. I have a mate in the policía local and he's made discreet enquiries. I went up to Caserones again during the day a few days ago and all is quiet and apparently normal, but I still had that feeling of being watched. It felt like -"He broke off.

"My parents were in Amsterdam during the war, under Nazi occupation, and they said that everything looked normal but the people lived in constant fear - not just of the Nazis, but of their own friends and neighbours. You had to watch what you said all the time, in case someone reported you to the Germans. People only ventured out when they had to and then they hurried home, looking over their shoulders. At night they slept badly, waiting for the knock on the door." He looked up at the sky, his eyes crinkling against the bright sunlight. "I didn't expect to get that same feeling in a little Spanish mountain village."

He looked down again at his hands grasping a huge litre pot of beer, then picked it up and drank the contents in one go.

"But that's how it felt. They were all waiting for the knock on the door."

He gave the two young women a watery smile.

"You are determined to do this?"

Both nodded.

"Then I would warn you to be careful. Whatever it is they are afraid of, take it seriously. Your friend disappeared and we don't know why."

He called to the waiter to refill their glasses, then bent forward so their heads were all close together over the table.

"I have a chalet ready for you at my place. If there is any trouble, anything at all, don't hesitate. Come straight to me."

He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Here are the directions and my telephone number. You are in number eight, OK?"

Alison's eyes filled with tears. "You are very kind, Johan,"she said, struggling to keep her voice under control. Her lips seemed to have gone numb.

Heather took the paper and gripped Johan's hand.

"You're a good friend, Johan,"she said.

~ * ~

Alison slept for the entire journey and was still asleep when Heather pulled up beside a very large house, right at the very top of the village. She got out and looked back down the way they had come. The road had indeed been considerably worse than the main road up. There were no barriers at all and the tarmac was cracked and patched up with concrete here and there.

The village itself had cobbled streets, mostly too narrow to admit a car, and she had had to follow the agent's directions very carefully to find the way through. Even so, she misgave in a couple of places, convinced the car was wider than the street. But she had made it and felt rather pleased with herself as she walked up to a heavy wooden door and knocked.

A small, frail woman with wispy hair and a worried expression came to the door and smiled tentatively when she saw Heather. "Miss Jones?"

Heather nodded and smiled. "And that's Miss Metcalfe in the car. She fell asleep on the way. She has a very tiring job."

Behind her back, Heather had her fingers tightly crossed, hoping Alison wouldn't wake up and make it obvious she was drunk before she got rid of the landlady.

"I'm Wendy Payton."She glanced back at the car, a worried frown creasing her forehead. "Is your friend all right?"

"She's fine,"said Heather. "Just really tired. It was a long journey."

"Yes, yes, of course."She gave Heather a tired smile. "The house is next door, here."And she led the way to an identical door on the left. "It was all one, but I had this part converted to a separate house and if the rental thing works out, I can do at least one more. It's an enormous house."

Luckily, the woman didn't take long to show Heather round and then she shook hands and said, "I'll have to go now. I've got a lot to do. But I'm right next door if you need me."

With a sigh of relief, Heather headed back to the car, checked that the landlady was safely back behind her huge door, and went to get Alison into the house.

"Wha - what?"Alison looked around her, completely confused. "Shush,"Heather said. "Just get in the house and I'll sort everything out."

Once inside, she handed Alison two ibuprofen tablets and a pint of water and said, "Here, take these. And drink the water - all of it. I'll make you something to eat."

"I'm not hungry,"Alison mumbled.

"I don't care,"Heather said. "You must eat something or you'll feel like hell when you wake up."

"Wake up?"

"Yes. You're going to eat this and then you're going to have a siesta before we go out on the town."

Alison looked at the huge baguette that Heather had placed in front of her, along with about two pounds of cheese and some spreadable margarine.

"I couldn't get butter,"Heather explained. "It was margarine or nothing."

"When did you go shopping?"

"I knew you were going to have to eat something, so I left you with Johan and went to the minimarket in Òrgiva."

Alison had a vague recollection of sitting at a café table with a tall man with grey hair who kept trying to feed her sardines, or maybe it was anchovies.

"Didn't we eat at the bar?"she mumbled.

"I did. And Johan did. But you refused to eat anything. They were really nice tapas too."

She smiled reflectively. "And they were free here, too. I thought you said it was only in Granada."

"Granada Province,"Alison said, thickly. "Not just the city."

"Oh, right,"Heather said, cutting herself a generous chunk of bread, lathering it with margarine and adding a healthy portion of cheese. "Brilliant."