Secrets to a Happy Ending

Chapter 15

Lydia did not sleep at all that night. She spent all night researching as much as she could about Julie, and her real identity. Trying to understand why she had a new alias and why she was living way out in Bulgaria away from her readership. She discovered that no new books had been published for a number of years, what had happened to make her stop writing? Should she confront her and say something, or dig a little deeper to see what else she could uncover?

Then she remembered the note that had been left for her at the reception desk. She wondered why it had been left there and not passed under the door like the article? Could they be from the same person? She thought about the saw mill and that she had not been really in the office, she knew she needed to get over there again to look on her own.

She sat up and grabbed a notebook to begin to list the questions she had going on in her mind.

Who is Mark Ross? Why is he so secretive? Why could she find out very little information on him?

Why was Julie hiding her real identity?

Who left the note and the article for her?

What were Mark and Gladys hiding from her the other day?

She thought a little more about the questions, then Claire Barlow came back into her head. She opened the iPad and typed in Chvonne Lumley's name again. She remembered the story all too well; it was one of the first things she had written about.

Chvonne Lumley was a top supermodel, sought after by many fashion industries and make-up companies. Her natural beauty brought in millions, for her and for them. But sadly with the fame came a darker side that she turned to drugs and alcohol. Four years earlier, she left a suicide note to say she was ending her life, but that her body would never be found. She had been reported missing, and people reported sightings of her, but the leads never turned up fruitful.

Could Claire be Chvonne, and if so why did she disappear?

A sudden knock at the door caused her to hide her paper and iPad, under the blankets.

"Who is it?" She called out.

There was no answer. Joanna listened carefully. There was someone at the door for sure, she quickly attached her prosthetic and grabbed her long robe, walked to the door and opened it.

It was Susannah the lady who was visiting.

"Hi, can I help?"

Susannah shuffled whilst standing on the spot appearing very awkward indeed.

"I'm very sorry to trouble you, but I feel that I know you from somewhere and I just had to ask."

"I'm sorry I don't think we have met."

"I believe we have, you interviewed me about my daughter Trixie going missing a few years ago. I'm Susannah Reeves, you came to my house in Camden."

Lydia instantly recognized her knowing then and there her cover was blown. Or was it? After all she was visiting too wasn't she?

"Please won't you come in?"

Susannah looked up and down the hall before walking into the room, she entered and sat on the edge of her bed.

"I er.... I took the liberty of double checking the article which had your picture on it."

"I see, and what is it you would like to speak to me about Mrs. Reeves."

"We are here on a tip off, that Trixie may be here in the village?"

Susannah reached in her bag and pulled out an old photograph of her daughter and passed it to Lydia.

"Perhaps you remember her?"

There was no way that Lydia could slither out of this, she knew that she had to come clean at some point or other.

"I do remember you, yes, and I remember this picture very well."

Susannah began to cry,

"Have you seen my daughter here?"

Lydia gave a saddened look, and shook her head.

"I'm afraid not. But how did you get a tip off that she had come here?"

"We hired a private investigator back in London, it financially ruined us both, but we wanted to do whatever it took to get our daughter back. He said that he had managed to track a flight that she took to Bulgaria. Three years ago, he had found an ad that this village was looking for jobs for British people."

"So have you asked anyone while you have been here?"

"Well that's just it, we began to ask around and show her a picture, but the people here seem... I don't know strange in some way?"

"Strange? What do you mean?"

"Well they don't like to answer any questions, it's like they just don't want to know. So when I saw you in the café I knew you might be my one hope, I thanked god when I saw you, that my prayers had been answered."

"Don't thank me yet."