Page 19 of Ticket Out

“I’m heading home, Liz. Do you want to walk with me to the bus?”

Liz hesitated, her gaze going to Luke, who was dancing to Gerry and the Pacemakers. He caught sight of her watching and crooked his finger.

Liz gulped a quick breath. “I’ll stay a little longer. You sure you don’t want to dance some more?”

Gabriella shook her head. “I’m done in. It’s been a week. I’ll see you Monday?”

Liz waved in answer, dancing her way over to Luke, who watched her with what Gabriella thought were calculating eyes.

She let it go.

Liz was a year older than she was, and knew her own mind.

She headed for the door, having to push through the crowd in the middle of the room, but things were less of a crush near the entrance.

When she stepped out she saw Melvin and his boxer friend had moved outside and were doing some crowd control—only letting a few in at a time.

She gave a quick smile as she squeezed past him but didn’t speak to him as he clearly had his hands full. Still, he found the time to lift a hand in goodbye.

She broke free of the crush and came to a stop a little way down the street, drawing in a big lungful of cool air. The perspiration she’d worked up inside chilled on her skin and she shivered.

She got her bearings, and wondered which bus would be more reliable at this time of night. The sound of a voice made her glance right, and under the street light up ahead, she saw Patty standing on the pavement, stooping slightly to talk to someone through the open window of a white van.

Her expression was serious, and she suddenly stepped back with a nod, opened the door, and got in.

Almost immediately, the van pulled off, driving slowly toward Gabriella.

She tried to see the driver as they passed, but Patty had wound up her window by the time they reached her, and the reflection of the streetlight obscured whoever was inside—Patty and the driver both.

It made Gabriella uneasy.

She couldn’t say for sure if it was the same van she’d seen outside the gallery earlier. It certainly looked very similar.

Even if it had been the same van, there wasn’t necessarily anything sinister about Patty accepting a lift. Still, she followed after it, aware it would most likely be long gone by the time she reached the main road.

She saw no sign of it when she reached the bus stop, although just as the bus pulled up she thought she caught sight of a jaguar driving toward Kensington. The light was bad, though, and it could have been black or dark blue just as easily as bottle green, and when she caught a glimpse of the number plate, it didn’t match the one she was worried about.

She sat up front near the driver, avoiding the giggling lads in the back. They seemed to have been drinking, despite the fact that they couldn’t have been more than sixteen.

She let herself into the house just after midnight, and when she reached the top floor, she stopped in astonishment at the sight of Mr. Rodney’s door standing open.

“Wotcha.” A man leaned out into the hall, and then stopped short, his eyes wide in surprise.

“Jerome?” Gabriella recognized him from the Calypso Club.

“Gabriella, is it?” He inclined his head. “I’m your new neighbor, looks like.”

“You’ve already moved in?” She glanced past him into the flat, which looked very sparsely furnished. “Has Mr. Rodney moved already?”

“Solomon got the lads round, and we did it inna couple o’ hours,” Jerome said. “Quick as you like.”

“Well, welcome to Rose Court,” Gabriella said. “Have a good evening.” She unlocked her door, and sensing he was still watching her, turned back to him.

He was studying her closely. “Have a good evening yourself,” he said at last, stepped back, and closed his door.

She would miss Mr. Rodney being right opposite. He had been the first friend she’d made in London after she’d arrived off the ship from Melbourne.

A laugh came through the door, and she realized Jerome wasn’t alone. He must have friends helping him move his furniture around.

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