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  ‘Just ten minutes, honey,’ Fern commanded.

  Fern Ramsden was the kind of woman it would be impossible to overlook. She was around five foot eight, with a voluptuous figure and very good legs. That day she wore a jade-green low-necked sweater dress with a gold chain belt and gold sandals. The colour of the dress enhanced her red hair and her golden tan. While she was probably well over forty, she could easily pass for thirty. But Dale felt irritated by the older woman looking so stunningly attractive when poor Lotte looked so bad; that seemed cruel.

  ‘Oh my God, Lotte, what a terrible thing to happen to you! I can hardly believe it,’ Dale blurted out. ‘But how are you feeling now? Did you sleep OK? Are you in pain anywhere?’

  ‘She doesn’t want questions thrown at her,’ Fern interrupted. ‘If you want to stay, just sit quietly with her.’

  Until then Dale was prepared to believe this woman was a saint because she’d rescued her friend. But now she was being treated like an irritating child, Dale’s gratitude to Fern and her husband faded, and she began to resent her.

  She needed to tell Lotte how she felt about the terrible thing that had happened to her, but she couldn’t articulate it when the woman was standing close by, timing her visit. All she could do was hold her friend and sob out that she wished she hadn’t let her go ashore alone and that she wanted to take care of her.

  ‘That sure is impossible,’ Fern chimed in, and now her drawling American accent had a touch of steel to it. ‘You gotta work, Dale honey, and Lotte needs rest and quiet if she’s to recover.’

  ‘I’ll be fine in a day or two,’ Lotte said bravely, smoothing back Dale’s hair from her face, as if she were the victim who needed comforting. ‘I’m on the mend already. Now, don’t you worry about me, and give all the girls in the salon my love and apologize for letting all the clients down.’

  ‘But tell me how he did it,’ Dale begged her. ‘I mean, where were you and how did he get hold of you?’

  ‘That’s enough now,’ Fern butted in, catching hold of Dale’s arm none too gently. ‘Lotte doesn’t want to relive the whole thing again. Time you went.’

  Maybe Fern was right, but by the agonized look in Lotte’s eyes as Dale was ushered out, she was sure her friend would rather have talked it through.

  Dale felt as if she was awake all night reliving the events of that day in Ushuaia, but she must have dropped off to sleep eventually because the ringing of her alarm clock woke her with a start at seven the next morning. She got up immediately, aware that she would need to look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as many of the wedding party guests were booked in for manicures this morning before the service, and Marisa would be watching her closely.

  But she didn’t feel like it. Those dreadfully upsetting images of Lotte through the night had left an ache inside her. She was silently praying this girl on the beach wasn’t her friend, she’d been through too much already, yet a sixth sense told her it was.

  By quarter to eight Dale was in the spa getting her nail trolley set up for the first client, due at eight, when Scott came in dressed in his shorts and singlet for the gym.

  They had managed only the briefest of conversations when he got back from Brighton the previous day, and that was about Marisa discovering that Dale had gone out without permission.

  ‘I hope the police contact us today,’ he said, rubbing his eyes. ‘I can’t stand just waiting for news. If that girl on the beach is Lotte, where’s she been all this time? Why didn’t she ever ring us and tell us where she was?’

  Dale went over to him and gave him a hug. His sensitivity was one of his best traits. She doubted many men of his age, especially good-looking ones, would care much about what had happened to a girl who’d only been a friend.

  ‘Maybe we’ll find out soon,’ she said hopefully.

  Chapter Three

  Just after three in the afternoon Becky the receptionist came over to Dale while she was giving a client a manicure. ‘There’s a policeman wants to speak to you,’ she said, her sharp features sharper still with pent-up curiosity.

  Dale smiled at her client, an attractive brunette in her fifties, and continued to paint her nails. ‘Don’t worry, he doesn’t want to arrest me,’ she joked. ‘And he can wait until we’re finished.’

  She turned to Becky. ‘Give him a coffee and tell him I’ll be five minutes,’ she said.

  The display of calm was completely false. Dale could barely manage to control her shaking hand to put a sealing coat on her client’s nails. ‘I expect you saw the story in the news about the woman found on Selsey beach suffering from memory loss?’ she said. ‘Well, I think she might be a friend of mine. I’m hoping this policeman can either confirm or deny it.’

  ‘Oh, you poor thing!’ the woman exclaimed. ‘I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d run off and left me only half done.’

  ‘My clients are too important to me to do that,’ Dale said silkily, hoping it might get back to Marisa. But making that rather phoney statement reminded her that Lotte had always really cared deeply for her clients. On Christmas Eve on the cruise she had worked from seven-thirty in the morning till after nine at night without a proper break all day, just to get everyone’s hair done. Not for the tips it brought, but just to see her clients’ pleasure. She was unique; no other hairdresser cared that much.

  Dale fastened her client’s wristwatch for her and helped her into her jacket. ‘Sit for a while in reception and let your nails harden,’ she suggested. ‘Becky will get you a cup of coffee if you want one. And have a lovely time tonight. You won’t mind if I rush off now, will you?’

  The woman thanked her effusively and begged her to go. Dale sped off and was told by Becky that the policeman was waiting for her in the bar.

  The bar was closed until five so there was no one there but the plainclothes officer sitting by the window. He was in his mid to late thirties, with wide shoulders, light brown curly hair and a fresh complexion.

  ‘I’m Dale Moore,’ she said, holding out her hand. He smiled; his eyes were an unusual tawny colour. At any other time her heart would have leapt for he was very nice-looking.

  ‘Detective Inspector Bryan,’ he said, shaking her hand. ‘I hope calling on you here didn’t upset anyone?’

  ‘I don’t care much if it did,’ she said, sitting down opposite him. ‘Now tell me. Is the girl from the beach my friend Lotte?’

  ‘Yes, she is; her father was able to positively identify her at the hospital,’ he said. ‘But she hasn’t as yet regained any memory – she didn’t even know her parents.’

  ‘So you don’t know how she got there, or what happened to her?’

  ‘We think it’s likely she jumped from a boat. She could of course have been pushed, but it’s all a bit mysterious as there were rope marks on her wrists and ankles. You wouldn’t expect anyone to remove the bonds if they were intending to push her in! There again, she could have just walked into the sea because she was in some kind of crisis. So until she remembers or we get information from other people who had seen her recently, we’re very much in the dark.’

  ‘Is she going to be OK?’

  ‘She is weak, suffering from hypothermia and exhaustion, but her loss of memory is the most troubling aspect.’

  ‘Can I do anything to help?’

  Bryan nodded. ‘I was hoping you might have some success in stimulating her memory.’

  ‘I’d like to try,’ Dale agreed. ‘Though you may have to charm the supervisor here to give me permission, that is, if I have to go in working hours.’

  ‘That will be Marisa De Vere?’ He arched one eyebrow.

  Dale nodded. ‘She doesn’t like me much already, so please don’t give her anything further to hold against me.’

  Bryan smiled. ‘She was a little frosty when I arrived here and asked to speak to you. I thought I could take you to the hospital later, as I understand you don’t have any more clients this afternoon?’

  Dale agreed that was so.

  ‘
If you could tell me everything you know of Lotte,’ he said, getting out his notepad. ‘Her friends other than yourself, family members she kept in touch with, favourite places she might have mentioned. But first, could you confirm the date you last saw her?’

  ‘It was the sixteenth of March, last year.’

  ‘Where was that?’

  ‘On the cruise ship, the morning we were all leaving. She shot off earlier than most of us, around ten in the morning.’

  ‘And she said she was going straight home to her parents in Brighton?’

  ‘That’s right, she did,’ Dale nodded. ‘And I had no reason to doubt it because she was bubbly and excited on the last day. It looks to me now that she must’ve already arranged to go somewhere else, but I can’t imagine why she didn’t tell me, she was such an open person normally. Or at least, so I thought until I found out what her parents were like. She kept that from me too.’

  ‘They certainly are a couple of cold fish,’ DI Bryan agreed, shaking his head as if bewildered by them.

  ‘Maybe it will be as well if Lotte never remembers about them,’ Dale said. ‘Or that she was raped in South America.’

  The policeman raised his eyebrows quizzically and Dale felt embarrassed.

  ‘Don’t tell me you hadn’t already found out about that?’ she said.

  ‘Yes and no. Mrs Wainwright told me you’d said she was, but she and her husband didn’t seem to believe it. I got someone to contact the cruise line for their full report, but until that comes through it would be helpful if you’d tell me about it.’

  ‘It was in Ushuaia in South America, but I only know the bare bones. Lotte didn’t tell me anything until a week or more after it happened, and she was still reluctant to talk. She’d gone ashore alone, and apparently the man spoke to her outside a shop. He asked if she would go for a drink with him, or let him show her round. He was South American – I believe he was a native of Ushuaia and not quite the full shilling. Lotte turned him down.’

  ‘Would she have been rude to him?’

  Dale shook her head. ‘No way, she didn’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings. Anyway, she cut up the back of town, and the next thing she knows he’s coming towards her in a very quiet residential street. He caught hold of her and hauled her back against a shed or garage and hit her when she struggled. He’d got her down on the ground and was actually raping her when Mr and Mrs Ramsden came along. They had apparently heard her scream. I think Mr Ramsden hit the man with a post or something and his wife followed up by breaking a bottle of wine over his head. They got Lotte away and took her back to the ship.’

  ‘She must have been very indebted to these people?’ the policeman said.

  ‘Oh, she was. They took care of her in their suite for a week,’ Dale said. ‘They didn’t let anyone else get near her.’

  ‘How did you feel about that?’ Bryan asked.

  Dale blushed; she felt he’d looked into her soul. ‘A bit shut out. I appreciated that Fern, that’s Mrs Ramsden, was taking good care of her, but she was so full on, like intense. I couldn’t even talk to Lotte alone. And I didn’t like the religious stuff either.’

  ‘She was religious?’

  ‘Well, yes. That happy, clappy sort, getting down on your knees and praising God stuff, not the basic Protestant thing. She was very fond of telling Lotte she had to put her trust in Jesus. I felt that if Jesus had been around that day he could have prevented the rape.’

  Bryan looked thoughtful. ‘How would you describe their attitude to Lotte?’

  Dale sucked in her cheeks. ‘Well, I’m a bit biased because I resented them not letting me in to see her and that. But it was like they owned her. It made me feel really uncomfortable around them. But then I felt bad thinking that way because I knew they were helping her, and if it hadn’t been for them she’d have been stuck in the sick bay without much TLC.’

  ‘And Lotte’s views?’

  ‘Oh, she thought they were her doctors, counsellors, friends, parents, all rolled into one. She wouldn’t have a word said against them.’

  ‘How long was she with them before she went back to work? She did go back, I assume?’

  Dale nodded. ‘Yes, a week later.’

  ‘Was she ready for that?’ Bryan sounded surprised.

  ‘She’d have got cabin fever without it, I think,’ Dale said. ‘Hairdressing was more than a job to Lotte, it was her passion; she needed the creativity and her clients. So she returned to share the cabin with me and we went back to most of the old stuff, going ashore, chatting into the night, her doing my hair, me doing her nails.’

  ‘Are you saying she was really over it?’

  ‘No, not at all. She made out she was, went about everything in the same old way, but I could sense her pain just below the surface. It was my opinion that she needed to tell me the details of what happened to truly get over it. By that I mean describing him, how he smelled, exactly what he did and said to her. But she wouldn’t. I think that was because she felt a great deal of shame, like it was her fault. Telling me would’ve done her more good than running up to the Ramsdens’ suite for a few prayers!’

  He grimaced, and Dale made a despairing gesture with her hands. ‘I wouldn’t have thought anything of her going off to the ship’s chapel, or saying a few silent prayers in bed. But she used to get on her knees in the cabin and say them out loud. It gave me the creeps.’

  ‘And the Ramsdens instigated all this?’

  ‘Completely. She never so much as mentioned God or Jesus until the rape.’

  ‘So she could well have stayed in contact with this couple after she left the ship?’

  ‘I’m sure she did, but they were Americans and going home, so the contact would’ve been limited to writing letters or phone calls. I mean, she couldn’t drop in on them for a cup of tea.’

  ‘Did this couple put her in touch with a religious group?’

  Dale stared at him in surprise. ‘You don’t think she was sucked into one of those crazy sects, do you?’

  Bryan smiled. ‘It’s a possibility we’ll be looking into, though I don’t know of one operating along the south coast. Was there anyone else on the ship she made friends with and might have gone to?’

  Dale thought hard for a couple of minutes. ‘No, there was only Scott and me. We were a little unit. She knew lots of other people, she exchanged phone numbers and addresses like we all did, but I can’t see her going off with anyone else.’

  ‘So you had absolutely no contact from the day you left the ship, the sixteenth of March 2002?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Dale agreed. ‘She never phoned or even texted me or Scott after we left the ship. I kept on and on leaving messages for her to ring, but after a bit the line seemed dead, like the battery had run out.’

  ‘How would you describe Lotte’s character and personality?’ he asked.

  ‘She was quiet. The kind that sits back and observes. A giver rather than a taker. A listener not a talker. Kind, sensitive to others’ needs, generous and warm.’

  ‘She sounds nice.’ Bryan smiled.

  ‘She was lovely. Is lovely,’ Dale quickly corrected herself. ‘She might look like a Barbie Doll, but she’s real and very organized. A bit gullible maybe – back then she took everyone at face value and I don’t think she had much idea of her own worth. Of course now I’ve met her parents, that explains that.’

  ‘Would you call her impetuous?’

  ‘No, not at all.’ Dale shook her head. ‘She wasn’t one for jumping into anything, even buying something impulsively. Definitely not a risk taker! I always had the idea that once she met the right man she’d settle down and have several children and never stray.’

  ‘Did she tell you of any past boyfriends?’

  ‘No. But I got the idea there had been someone important. She wasn’t entirely innocent, despite looking as if she’d just stepped out of a fairy tale. She’d definitely had a few lovers. But she wasn’t promiscuous either, she never dabbled with anyone on the
ship, even though there were lots of guys who fancied her. That’s about all I can tell you.’

  ‘That’s OK. It’s time now I took you and your friend Scott to Chichester to visit her anyway.’ Bryan got to his feet. ‘I’m sure it will go without saying that she is very weak and still suffering from the effects of being in the sea such a long time. So don’t expect too much. I’m hoping that seeing you two will trigger her memory, but it is likely she won’t even know you, so please be prepared for that. Now, do you need permission to come with me?’

  Dale pulled a face at the prospect of having to ask Marisa. ‘We’d better,’ she said. ‘And I’ll need to call Scott. Can we meet you in reception in ten minutes?’

  An hour and a half later Scott and Dale were with Lotte in St Richard’s Hospital in Chichester. She had been put in a private room on Singleton Ward on the ground floor, with a policeman on duty outside the door.

  ‘Shit!’ Scott murmured as he saw the uniformed man. ‘I didn’t realize they saw this as a really serious crime. They must think she still needs protection.’

  If DI Bryan heard what Scott said, he made no comment, but said he would remain outside so they could see Lotte alone.

  ‘You’ll be less inhibited without me there,’ he said with a smile. ‘You’ll probably get more out of her too, if you don’t stand on ceremony with her. Bring up all your little private jokes, be real. Call me if she starts to remember anything. But don’t go on for too long, she badly needs rest.’

  Dale gasped involuntarily as they walked into the room, for Lotte looked terrible, almost unrecognizable as the outstandingly pretty girl they’d shared so many good times with. Her hair had been hacked off in lumps, she was very thin, terribly pale and bruised, and the skin on her face was flaking off. Even the big blue eyes they knew so well looked haunted and afraid.

  ‘Do you know us, Lotte?’ Dale said, taking her hand. ‘I’m Dale and this is Scott. We were your best friends on the cruise ship, we did everything together.’

  ‘Dale and Scott,’ Lotte said slowly as if testing the names against anything remaining in her memory bank. She looked searchingly at their two faces and it was clear she didn’t know them.