Private London

Chapter 53

Professor Annabelle Weston looked at her watch and pushed aside a second-year student’s essay that she had been marking.

Jungian archetypes in contemporary graphic novels. She sighed dismissively and picked up the telephone, tapping in some numbers. After a while, the phone she was calling clicked into a recorded message – she waited for it to finish.

‘Laura, this is Professor Weston, just to remind you that you were due for a tutorial. I can understand if you’re not coming in but I just wanted to make sure you’re all right. Please give me a call.’

She hung up and twirled a perfectly manicured finger around a lock of her strawberry-blonde hair. She looked at the first paragraph of the essay again and put it to one side once more, unable to concentrate.

She snatched the phone up again, consulted a business card that was sitting on her desk and dialled another number. After a second or two it was answered.

‘Dan Carter.’

She smiled a little hesitantly. ‘Dan, it’s Professor Weston. Annabelle.’

‘Hi,’ he said and she could hear the warmth in his voice, picture the smile at the other end of the line. He had a nice smile. He was bright, too, she could tell that much.

‘I just wondered if there had been any developments your end? I have spoken to the police, of course, and all they can tell me is that they are pursuing all lines of enquiry. Which I take to mean that they have no idea.’

‘They’ll be doing all they can.’

‘I guess they are. I just feel so helpless. I feel like I should be doing something.’

‘I know it’s hard. But remember what the poet said. “They also serve who only stand and wait”.’

‘Shakespeare?’

‘John Milton. He was referring to his blindness. And even if it does feel like we are stumbling around in the dark, professor, we’re not. There is light ahead and we will guide Hannah home by it.’

‘You sound like something has happened.’

‘Just experience. Things happen for a reason. And when we understand why – then we can take steps to deal with them.’

‘And you are close to an understanding?’

‘I believe we are working towards that, yes.’

‘And you’ll let me know when you can?’

‘We will.’

‘Thanks, then.’

Annabelle Weston hung up, running her thumb and the first finger of her right hand around the wedding-ring finger of her left. There was still a faint white band from where her wedding ring had been removed some years earlier.

A slight smile tugged wistfully at the corners of her lips. I wonder what Dan Carter would be like in bed? she thought to herself.

Her smile faded as she picked the phone up for a third time and hit the speed-dial button.

‘Kht Mn Qlby…’ she said as the call was answered. ‘It’s me.’