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sniffed. “Aye, that’s
what it felt like. Strain on the electrics too.” He shrugged,
pursed his lips and shouted over his shoulder, “Arr m’earties,
all ship-shape and Bristol fashion?”
    Laura slipped through the merrymakers
and out to the stern. Xandra was no longer there. Even when she
enlisted the help of Nick and Andy, Xandra could not be found.
Neither could Barry.

Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham

CHAPTER SIX

    Laura woke late the following day,
which wasn’t surprising considering she’d been assisting
the police until the early hours of the morning. Needless to say, the
so-called Barry Bolton was using a stolen driving licence and the
police suspected him of having drugged poor Xandra. Laura could not
shift the fear that Xandra’s disappearance was all her fault.
    Now Matt was on his way, he’d
just texted. Clever little gadget, this mobile, she thought with
gratitude, remembering how she’d immediately texted him when
Xandra could not be found. So good of him to host the rest of the
party.
    She dragged herself to the bathroom and
looked into the mirror. Terror struck – she looked at least ten
years older. She showered, brushed her teeth, then checked in the
mirror again. What relief. She smiled at her unfounded anxiety –
she was just a bit tired. There was Xandra to think about.
    Another text. “Escd. At workshop.
Please hurry. No police. X.” Her doorbell rang. She nearly
dropped the mobile. “Matt, oh thank goodness you’re
here.” Laura wrapped her arms round his neck and rested her
head on his chest while he held her tightly and stroked her hair. Oh
God, as I can’t have him, please find him someone nice. “Matt,
look at this text. It’s from Xandra,” she said as she led
him into her tiny sitting room. “Does that really mean we are
expected not to inform the police?”
    “Possibly. It might mean she’s
not contacted the police so there’s no police at the workshop
and she feels vulnerable.”
    “Is it a trap?” Laura
stared at Matt in the hope he would know the answer.
    “I doubt it but let’s not
debate that now; let’s just go. Text her back – just say
‘on way’ or something short like that. Write a brief note
and leave it on your kitchen table to say where you’ve gone.
You’re always advising your lady clients to do that – now
you do it.”
    Laura managed a wan smile, a fumbling
text, and a shakily written note. It was the note that drove home the
feeling of having no family, the only person she ever turned to was
Matt. And Xandra had texted her – she had no one either.
    Yesterday’s sunshine had given
way to gathering clouds. Matt put the top up on the Jaguar. “Serves
two purposes,” he said. “Saving ten seconds if it rains
and making us less visible.”
    “Less visible!” hooted
Laura. “Would it not be better to go in my Micra?”
    “Your car is red: mine is black,”
Matt said with a look that just passed for a smile, “and a
Jaguar is at home in London.”
    As they settled into the motorway
section of the journey to London, Laura distracted herself with
thoughts of her own predicament. Matt had been the first person she
had stumbled across on the day she arrived: over five years ago now.
She’d emerged, shipwrecked, from the nineteenth century, to
find him leaning against his green MG B, C, D or maybe E, well
something or the other, wearing knee length shorts and a dark blue
T-shirt. She’d never seen so much of a man before. In contrast,
she’d been wearing her travelling clothes which included strong
boots for the voyage, a fashionable but practical ankle length, blue
dress, and a long cloak. All were wet through and their weight made
it difficult to walk. Her hair was tangled and she was dragging the
small trunk containing her valuables. She remembered with pride how
she’d roped the trunk and herself to a wooden table and two
empty waterproofed barrels. Matt was slowing as he approached London
– the perfect opportunity for Laura to open