Chapter 16

Heather was saying goodbye to her customer, a young woman with a lot of shopping bags, who looked rather flustered, and Alison waited until they had shaken hands and the woman was on her way out of the door.

"So she didn't return it."

Heather gave a quick, perfunctory smile. "Well, not on the right day, anyway."

She waved Alison into the chair and tidied away the papers from the previous customer.

Alison glanced around at the customers standing around perusing leaflets and gazing at posters.

"Why is it so busy?"Alison asked. "In January? I would have thought it would be the dead end of the year."

"It's our busiest time,"Heather said. "Christmas is over. Nothing to look forward to except cold and damp for months and months. People cheer themselves up by booking their holidays. What do you think it means?"She was pointing at the print-out.

"I think it's very likely she didn't return the car herself,"Alison said. "Oh Heather, I really think she's in trouble."

Heather bit her lip. "So do I. I called my friend last night and he says he'll go up to Caserones tomorrow, well, today now, and sniff around. He's also going to check nothing has been reported to the local police. He said it's really weird, though. There's hardly any crime in these mountain villages."

"Or not reported crime,"Alison said, meaningfully.

"Yeah, right."Heather sighed. "But I really don't see what we can do. If something has happened to her, that woman, the one who owns the house, is in on it. Or at least covering it up."

"First things first,"Alison said. "See what he comes up with and we'll report whatever we get to the police and see if they can do anything."

"I bet they don't do anything,"Heather said, gloomily. "They'll say she's a grown woman and if she decides not to come back from holiday, that's her business. Just another Shirley Valentine."

Miss Wetherspoon was of the same opinion. "I thought about reporting it myself,"she said, "but I was afraid they'd just laugh at me. Silly old woman with ridiculous fancies. It will carry much more weight if you and the travel agent report it. More official, don't you know."

Then, with a change of tone, "How's Jessica getting on?"

"Jessica,"said Alison, glad of the change of subject, "is living the life of Riley. She is being regaled with treats all day long and my mum and dad spent the whole evening playing with her last night."

She didn't mention the fact that Jessica had slept in her bed the previous night. She had a feeling Miss Wetherspoon would not approve.

~ * ~

Alison stared at her phone the next lunchtime. It said.

Village weird. No reports to police. Come round after work.

Why after work? she wondered. Perhaps it was just too busy at lunchtime. She had a hard time containing her curiosity, but on the other hand it was nice to have time for more than a snatched sandwich. She settled down in the common room and indulged herself reading.

The four o'clock bell saw her busily stuffing books in her briefcase and heading off for the High Street once again. She saw Patsy once more waiting by the gate and felt a stab of pity for her. Poor kid. She obviously adored her Auntie June. What was it Miss Wetherspoon had said? June had been more of a mother to her than her own mother had been. She was tempted to go over to her, but what could she say? Nothing they had found out had been very reassuring. She decided to leave it till she'd spoken to Heather.

"I wanted you to come after work,"Heather said, "because I'd like to go and report it to the police as soon as I shut up and there wouldn't have been time at lunchtime.

"Johan rang me back this morning. He said he'd checked with the local police and nobody had reported anything that could possible relate to a school teacher on holiday."

"Johan speaks fluent Spanish, then?"Alison asked.

"Oh yes, he's lived there for years. He's got a little complex of holiday villas on his ranch, which is how I know him. Until I discovered him, he used to rent exclusively to Spanish people. His wife is Spanish as well."

Alison quietly put the lid on her idea that there may have been a love interest there.

"Anyway, to cut to the chase, he went up to Caserones last night and went in the bar just to sort of listen to what people were saying, you know. And he said it was like one of those old Wild West films where the gunslinger walks in the bar and everything goes quiet. They all just stopped talking and stared at him. He said he felt like just turning round and walking out again, but he'd promised me he'd do what he could, so he ordered a beer and sat at the bar and waited for them to forget about him. After a while he could pick up snatches of conversation."

He must be better at Spanish than me, Alison thought. I'll be damned if I could follow a conversation in Andalusian Spanish unless it was face to face and they went slowly.

"He said they were all frightened of something. He said you could feel it in the atmosphere. And when they spoke it was in whispers. He heard someone say something about 'the Englishwoman' but the rest of it was about someone called 'the Grocer'. What do you make of that?"

Alison looked blank. "A nickname?"

"Maybe. Anyway, they were all worried this Grocer person had come back and he thought he heard someone say that the Englishwoman had called him. It was very difficult for him. He said he felt quite threatened. Every so often someone would shush someone and they'd all stop talking and stare at him again. He finished his beer and left."

"Grocer,"Alison repeated, mystified. It occurred to her that she didn't know the Spanish for grocer. The only word she could think of was 'tendero' which just meant shopkeeper, rather than specifically grocer. She decided to look it up when she got home.

"Well, do you think we've got enough?"

"What?"For a moment Alison couldn't imagine what Heather was talking about.

"Enough to go to the police."

Alison sighed. "Probably not. But I think we should report it anyway. Even if we just get laughed at. At least we'll have registered it."