Chapter 31

Stella was standing at the bar, waiting to order another bottle of wine, tapping her foot to the music provided by the lively folk band in the corner, when the pub door opened. Her stomach leapt as Johan de Groote walked in. He was in conversation with a man of a similar age, with thinning sandy hair. From the way they were talking, it was clear they knew one another well. She watched with interest as Johan pulled back, letting the sandy haired man join the queue at the bar, Johan scanning the packed room as if looking for a table. He appeared to be dodging paying for the first round of drinks – why didn't that surprise her? His gaze landed on her and he looked startled for a few moments. Regrouping himself, he simply nodded and turned away, continuing his sweep of the room as if she was no more than a casual acquaintance. Stella watched as his eyes alighted on a table for four where a couple of attractive young women, who looked to be in their mid-to-late twenties, were sitting. He leant into his friend, saying something in his ear, before swaggering over to the young women. He'd evidently said something appealing as, in no time, the women were smiling up at him, laughing heartily at whatever he was saying. In the next moment, he gestured to the two empty seats. The two women responded with enthusiastic nods, and he wasted no time pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down, continuing his charm offensive.

Unable to watch any more, Stella turned away and waited to place her order. She didn't know how to feel about his reaction to seeing her, that he didn't even say hello. Maybe, after their last meeting, he was wary of any further confrontation. He wasn't the only one; it was the last thing she wanted, especially here in the Jolly.

As she made her way back to her friends, Stella toyed with the idea of going over to Johan, just to say hello, but thought better of it when she heard the flirtatious tone of the conversation he was having with the young woman sitting nearest him. Ughh! That he was laying it on so thick made her stomach curdle. It was taking some getting used to, him being her father.

Back at her table, Stella gave a quick update, her friends taking it in turns to surreptitiously take a look as her father held court, the two young women hanging on his every word. She guessed he was using a well-worn style of patter that had proved to be successful in the past, including with her mother.

Over the next hour, Stella did all she could to get on with enjoying her evening, listening as Jasmine shared the details of the latest comedy celebration cake she'd been commissioned to make for a couple in their late sixties who lived near her parents. ‘I mean, who even thinks about asking someone to make an anniversary cake like that?' I was mortified when Mrs Marsh showed me the photo she wanted me to replicate; didn't know where to look. And, judging by her husband's appearance – if you get my drift – it was clearly a very chilly day.' Her green eyes twinkled with mischief.

Mrs Marsh had told her how she and Mr Marsh were seasoned naturists and were regulars at a private naturist caravan camp over on the opposite coast. It was where the photo she'd passed to Jasmine had been taken, and where the couple would be celebrating their anniversary.

‘Honestly, I'll never be able to look at her and her husband again. I've known them all my life, always thought they were both very prim and proper. Pfftt! Totally fooled me there. And why she wants me to have them on a tandem beggars belief. Talk about having to deal with lots of fiddly bits and not knowing where to put them.' Jasmine shook her head, giggling at the face Florrie was pulling. ‘And, let me tell you this, gravity has been no friend to either of them. In fact, I'd go so far as to say it's absolutely bloomin' ravaged them. Which begs the question, do I copy them exactly, or do I enhance things; be kind, if you like? Make things a little perter?' She sat back in her seat and looked at her friends. Only Jasmine could tell a story so dryly and have everyone hooting with laughter.

Movement from the direction of where her father was sitting caught the corner of Stella's eye. She turned to see him and his friend getting to their feet along with one of the young women. The young woman nearest Johan quickly finished her drink and stood up too, smiling as she said something to him, making him laugh. Johan placed his hand on the small of her back, glancing over at Stella before quickly turning away. She watched with interest as he and his friend headed towards the door, the two women following. Talk about a fast worker. Stella felt an unexpected twinge of hurt that he hadn't wanted to speak to her, quickly telling herself that it would've been awkward anyway. The hurt was suddenly tempered by a feeling of irritation.

‘You okay, Stells?' Lark's gentle voice pulled her out of her musings.

‘Hm? Oh, yeah, I'm fine thanks, flower.' Stella nodded. She'd got the feeling he hadn't turned up in Micklewick Bay by chance; he had a reason for it, and she had her suspicions as to exactly what it could be.

Heading along the bottom prom, Stella fastened the buttons of her utility jacket and flicked the collar up, her mind teeming with thoughts of Johan de Groote. Mizzle was hanging in the air, swirling around in the muted glow of the vintage streetlamps. As she walked, she gradually became aware of footsteps behind her, the scrape of shoes on cobbles. Her heart jumped, triggering an unwelcome memory of the anonymous note that had been pushed into her pigeonhole. Stella felt herself regretting not accepting Maggie's offer of a lift home. A car was heading down the road, its headlights illuminating the footpath and she turned quickly, surprised to see no sign of anyone following her. She puffed out a sigh of relief. She may have taken self-defence classes and be a black belt in karate, but the thought that there was someone out there trying to intimidate her still didn't stop her from feeling uneasy.

Upping her pace, Stella made her way towards Skitey Bank, thankful it was well lit.

Reaching the top, she took long, purposeful strides towards the top prom, her mobile phone in her hand. She was about a third of the way along when she spotted a familiar dark car with tinted windows on the other side of the road. It had slowed to a crawl and appeared to be matching her pace. Anger rose inside her. No one had the right to make a woman feel intimidated. Her nostrils flaring, she marched towards the car, her body language exuding confidence and fearlessness. She was determined to find out who it was.

She'd almost reached the car when the driver revved the engine before taking off with a noisy spin of its wheels, Stella looking after it, her hands on her hips. Whoever it was, they evidently wanted their identity to remain a secret. All the same, it was a reminder that she needed to get in touch with DC Stephens and see if they'd made any progress with the CCTV footage at Fitzgilbert's Landing.