Lane in the North Lanes. It was a quiet backwater, and a wrought-iron spiral staircase led up to the front door which was on a balcony. Dale thought it was the kind of interesting place she’d like to live in herself, right by all the shops and bars, yet only a stone’s throw from the seafront.
Simon was tall and thin, with very short brown hair, the tips bleached blond. His ears and nose were too big for him to be called handsome, yet he wasn’t unattractive, for his smile was wide and warm and his eyes were a deep dark brown. He wore cream linen trousers held up by braces and a chocolate-brown shirt that matched his eyes.
‘I’m really glad you phoned,’ he said with genuine warmth. ‘It’s just a shame Adam’s been called out tonight, I know he’ll be disappointed he missed you.’
‘It’s good for me to find out a bit more about Lotte,’ Dale said as he beckoned her in. ‘Since discovering about her being estranged from her parents I realize I don’t know much about her at all.’
‘I’ve been frantic about her for such a long time.’ Simon put one hand on his hip in a very camp gesture. ‘She was sending me a postcard from every port, but they stopped suddenly.’
Dale could remember Lotte writing postcards; she had assumed they were to her parents.
He showed her into the sitting room, which was very arty with huge navy-blue sofas, stripped floorboards and vast, brightly coloured modern art posters on the walls. He invited her to sit down and offered her a drink.
‘Was there any reason she stopped sending the postcards?’ he asked as he handed her a glass of white wine. ‘Did she find a new man, or was it just ’cos she got involved with new friends?’
Dale sensed his hurt and puzzlement and she felt the kindest thing was to tell him the truth. Lotte needed friends more than ever now, and Simon couldn’t really help her without knowing what she’d been through.
‘I would’ve preferred to get around to this a bit more gently,’ Dale said. ‘But Lotte didn’t stop sending you cards because she lost interest in you, it was because she was raped.’
Simon blanched, and Dale’s eyes prickled with tears just the way they always did when she thought about what Lotte had gone through. As she went on to tell Simon the whole story she was overcome with emotion several times; she didn’t think the horror of it would ever go away.
‘The bastard,’ Simon hissed when she’d finished. ‘I hope the police strung him up.’
‘I think we can safely assume he’ll never be capable of raping anyone ever again. They depend on tourism there and the police wouldn’t let someone like him put people off going ashore,’ Dale said darkly. She blew her nose, wiped her eyes and took a long glug of her wine, before moving on to tell him about Lotte’s recovery. ‘I believed her when she said she was going home, I had no reason not to.’
Simon had remained silent through most of what she’d told him, then as she drew to the end, he got up and went over to the window. He looked out without speaking for a few moments.
Finally he turned back to her. ‘It’s obvious she went with someone off the ship. You see, if she hadn’t she would’ve come straight here.’
That didn’t sound very logical to Dale. ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘She could’ve gone absolutely anywhere.’
‘She wouldn’t, because you can bet your boots that after what she’d been through she felt much the same about herself as she did when she first came to Kutz,’ he said, his brown eyes dull with anxiety. ‘She was like a little waif then. You could almost smell the aloneness of her. She’d had no money to buy decent clothes, no one to give her a bit of love. She looked scared of her own shadow. I tell you, if she wasn’t made to leave that ship with someone, she would’ve come running back here as fast as her legs would carry her. This flat would always be her place of safety.’
‘How old was she when she came to
Simon was tall and thin, with very short brown hair, the tips bleached blond. His ears and nose were too big for him to be called handsome, yet he wasn’t unattractive, for his smile was wide and warm and his eyes were a deep dark brown. He wore cream linen trousers held up by braces and a chocolate-brown shirt that matched his eyes.
‘I’m really glad you phoned,’ he said with genuine warmth. ‘It’s just a shame Adam’s been called out tonight, I know he’ll be disappointed he missed you.’
‘It’s good for me to find out a bit more about Lotte,’ Dale said as he beckoned her in. ‘Since discovering about her being estranged from her parents I realize I don’t know much about her at all.’
‘I’ve been frantic about her for such a long time.’ Simon put one hand on his hip in a very camp gesture. ‘She was sending me a postcard from every port, but they stopped suddenly.’
Dale could remember Lotte writing postcards; she had assumed they were to her parents.
He showed her into the sitting room, which was very arty with huge navy-blue sofas, stripped floorboards and vast, brightly coloured modern art posters on the walls. He invited her to sit down and offered her a drink.
‘Was there any reason she stopped sending the postcards?’ he asked as he handed her a glass of white wine. ‘Did she find a new man, or was it just ’cos she got involved with new friends?’
Dale sensed his hurt and puzzlement and she felt the kindest thing was to tell him the truth. Lotte needed friends more than ever now, and Simon couldn’t really help her without knowing what she’d been through.
‘I would’ve preferred to get around to this a bit more gently,’ Dale said. ‘But Lotte didn’t stop sending you cards because she lost interest in you, it was because she was raped.’
Simon blanched, and Dale’s eyes prickled with tears just the way they always did when she thought about what Lotte had gone through. As she went on to tell Simon the whole story she was overcome with emotion several times; she didn’t think the horror of it would ever go away.
‘The bastard,’ Simon hissed when she’d finished. ‘I hope the police strung him up.’
‘I think we can safely assume he’ll never be capable of raping anyone ever again. They depend on tourism there and the police wouldn’t let someone like him put people off going ashore,’ Dale said darkly. She blew her nose, wiped her eyes and took a long glug of her wine, before moving on to tell him about Lotte’s recovery. ‘I believed her when she said she was going home, I had no reason not to.’
Simon had remained silent through most of what she’d told him, then as she drew to the end, he got up and went over to the window. He looked out without speaking for a few moments.
Finally he turned back to her. ‘It’s obvious she went with someone off the ship. You see, if she hadn’t she would’ve come straight here.’
That didn’t sound very logical to Dale. ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘She could’ve gone absolutely anywhere.’
‘She wouldn’t, because you can bet your boots that after what she’d been through she felt much the same about herself as she did when she first came to Kutz,’ he said, his brown eyes dull with anxiety. ‘She was like a little waif then. You could almost smell the aloneness of her. She’d had no money to buy decent clothes, no one to give her a bit of love. She looked scared of her own shadow. I tell you, if she wasn’t made to leave that ship with someone, she would’ve come running back here as fast as her legs would carry her. This flat would always be her place of safety.’
‘How old was she when she came to
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