Page 5 of Murder on the Brighton Express
The lady with the large hat occupied the next compartment with another woman wearing an equally large hat. Neither looked out from beneath their brims as we passed, so I had no idea what they looked like.
The compartment where R.P. had sat was empty. I expected to see her ahead of us, eager to be first off the train, but the only person waiting at the door was the conductor. He opened it for us when the train came to a stop at the platform and touched the brim of his cap in farewell. A guard on the platform assisted Aunt Lilian down the steps, then offered a hand to Flossy then me.
I didn’t follow them as they walked to the gate. I looked around, frowning. If R.P. hadn’t been in her compartment or any of the others I’d passed, nor had she been waiting to get off, where was she? Our carriage was first, behind the locomotive and the tender carrying coal and water, so if she’d changed carriages on the journey, she could only have gone to the second one, and to do that, she had to pass our compartment. But I’d not seen her, and I was quite sure I would have noticed, as the top half of the compartment door was glass. Nor had she joined the other passengers in the compartments between hers and ours.
I returned to the conductor. “Excuse me, may I have a word?”
“Did you leave something behind, Miss?”
“No, nothing like that. There was a woman carrying a brown leather bag traveling alone in the first compartment of the first-class car. Have you seen her?”
He scratched his thick beard as he thought. “Young woman with spectacles?”
“Yes, that’s her. She didn’t get off and her compartment was empty just now, but I’m sure she didn’t alight at the other two stops.”
“She must have changed carriages on the journey and got off from there.” He waved in the general direction of the rest of the train behind our first-class carriage.
I shook my head. “I would have seen her pass our compartment.” Although I had looked out of the window at one point.
The conductor shrugged. “I’m sure there’s an explanation, miss.” He didn’t offer one, however.
“Cleo,” Flossy whined. “Mother wants to go. Please don’t upset her. She has a raging headache.”
“Just a moment.” I turned back to the conductor, but he’d disappeared inside. With a sigh, I followed Flossy through the gate and along the concourse to the vehicles queuing up to take passengers to their final destination.
We found Aunt Lilian already ensconced in one of the two waiting carriages emblazoned with the Mayfair Hotel’s emblem of an M inside a circle. Once the groom closed our door, Cobbit the coachman instructed the horses to pull the vehicle away from the curb. The second carriage would wait to take our luggage and the two maids.
“Did either of you notice the young woman with the brown leather bag?” I asked.
“No,” Flossy said.
“Did you see anyone at all pass our compartment to change carriages?”
Flossy shook her head. “Why?”
“That young woman didn’t get off the train. Not at Victoria Station or the other two stops. Aunt?” I prompted. “Did you see her?”
Aunt Lilian had been staring out of the window, but she now turned to me. She looked like she hadn’t slept for days, and her cheeks looked even more sunken than usual. I’d not thought it possible, but she was also thinner than the day we left London, two weeks ago. “Why would I notice the other passengers?” she snapped.
I abandoned my questions and, once again, Flossy and I sat in silence. Aunt Lilian returned to staring out of the window. At one point, she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, before opening them again when the traffic on Piccadilly slowed our progress.
The Mayfair Hotel was a welcome sight. Frank the doorman greeted us with more warmth in his voice than I’d ever heard. It was most likely for my aunt and cousin’s benefit rather than mine, but I didn’t care. I’d missed his familiar grumpiness.
Goliath and the other porter greeted us before rushing to collect our luggage as the second carriage with the maids pulled up. Peter, the assistant manager, bowed and inquired how our holiday had been, and the manager, Mr. Hobart, said he was pleased to see us looking so refreshed.
“It must be the seaside air,” he said, smiling. When Mr. Hobart smiled, his entire face lifted, and I couldn’t help smiling back and giving him an enthusiastic response about how much I enjoyed it.
Flossy did, too. Aunt Lilian, however, smiled tightly as if it pained her to move the muscles in her face. I knew she genuinely liked Mr. Hobart, but the cocaine addiction that controlled her had not only altered her mood, it had also broken her spirit. The times when she didn’t take the substance, when she tried to go without, the fight to regain control required all her energy.
I touched her elbow, wanting her to know that I knew she was fighting, and that I supported her. But she jerked away and hurried to catch the lift before John closed the door.
“How has everything been here?” I asked Mr. Hobart.
“All is well, Miss Fox. Thank you for asking.” Even if the hotel was in turmoil, he would give the same answer in front of Flossy.
She was distracted by one of the hotel guests, however, and hadn’t heard.
“Actually, Miss Fox,” Mr. Hobart went on, “I have a message that needs delivering to the mews. Would you mind taking it?”
