‘What was it like?’ said Abby, trying to picture it.
‘It was hell,’ said Ros, her eyes glistening. ‘Not just the emotional torment, but the physical difficulties. Huge mosquitoes jabbing you day and night, insects burrowing into your skin, clouds of flies that are attracted to moisture and try to land on your eyeballs. There was no real trail, so you have to cut your own with machetes, and it’s constantly wet, so there’s no chance for your blisters to heal. But you trudge on and on, step by step, sinking into mud, torn by leaves, never being able to see more than about six feet in front of you, hoping that you might find something that will give you an answer, even if it’s closure.’
Abby looked at the old lady with awe. She wondered if she herself would ever have done anything like that for Nick. Right now she wasn’t even returning his calls, let alone subjecting herself to hostile conditions to save her relationship. Rosamund was describing the incredible things that people did for love. Ultimately her search had turned up nothing, but still Abby felt overcome with emotion.
‘So what do you think happened?’ she asked softly.
‘The most obvious answer is that Dom’s canoe overturned. That’s fatal on an expedition; your food, equipment gone. He could have lost a boot. Sounds simple, but it can have devastating consequences. Perhaps he fell sick, delirious, and got lost. You can’t appreciate the size, the density of virgin jungle unless you have been there. Or he was killed by one of the tribes.’
‘Why would they kill him?’
‘Because he upset or dishonoured them?’ Ros suggested. ‘He’d taken a selection of gifts along with him because he knew of those dangers, but perhaps it wasn’t enough.’
‘And perhaps he didn’t die. Perhaps he survived,’ said Abby, desperately wanting to say something to make the woman feel better.
Rosamund Bailey looked up, her brown eyes both soft and solemn.
‘He died,’ she said in a voice so fragile Abby could barely hear it. ‘Because if he didn’t, that would mean that he didn’t come back to find me, and our love was too strong to let me believe that theory.’
Abby shifted in her seat as a thick silence settled around the room.
‘Miss Bailey. You say you want closure. Well, this is an opportunity to get that. You are a journalist. You know what can be achieved. I read an interview with you yesterday and it said that you became a writer because of the power of words.’
‘You’ve been reading up on me?’ She smiled.
Abby didn’t look at her.
‘I suppose this investigation will go ahead with or without my cooperation,’ said Rosamund finally.
‘We want to help you,’ said Abby with feeling. ‘I don’t know him very well, but I would say that Elliot Hall is the tenacious sort, and if anyone can find out what happened to Dominic, it’s him.’
‘Don’t you think I did everything that was humanly possible to find out the truth?’ Her voice rose with emotion and tears sparkled in her eyes. ‘He’s dead, Abby. Dominic is dead. For a long time, I tortured myself with the whys and the hows, but he’s gone. It took me a long time to come to terms with that, but I had to, before it drove me insane, and at this point in my life I’m just not sure it’s helpful to dredge it all up again.’
Abby’s heart was thumping hard. She didn’t want to add any more distress to Rosamund Bailey’s life, but she didn’t believe her when she said she had moved on.
‘It’s the twenty-first century. We have more resources, more technology at our disposal.’
‘And what do you think you can do that I wasn’t able to?’ Rosamund said more fiercely.
‘Perhaps the jungle is easier to navigate these days.’
‘Even if it was, I doubt you could find Dominic’s trail. We travelled in a dozen differen
t directions from his last known whereabouts and found nothing. Besides, do you really think Elliot Hall is going to go to Peru for the sake of a story? You’d be lucky to get him as far as the Groucho Club.’
Abby cleared her throat.
‘I know you have issues with Elliot’s father, but Elliot is one of the good guys.’
‘Just be careful with him,’ said Rosamund more kindly.
Abby glanced up and noted the woman’s look of maternal concern.
‘Oh no, no. It’s nothing like that,’ she said, waving her hand. ‘I separated from my husband just a couple of months ago. Men are the last thing I need right now. My relationship with Elliot Hall is purely professional.’
‘That’s what we all say, Abby my dear.’
Chapter Fifteen