Body in the Thames

 Body in the Thames

Jane Goodhew

As she opened the curtains to let the sun shine through she noticed that her garden was covered in a carpet of snow.  How beautiful it looked, glistening and sparkly like diamonds with no footprints to spoil the image, how unfortunate that she would be the one to destroy it.

She needed to get a move on if she was to be there on time for her first day in the office of Hartman & Sons as Private Secretary to the executive of overseas   purchasing.   If there were two things she liked most of all it was travel and clothes, this position would fulfil both.  As she went up in the lift she recalled the first time she'd entered the building.  She had looked like a bedraggled, drowned rat, with windswept hair plastered down by the rain.  Today was different she had her hair swept up and held in place by clips and hairspray and her makeup was subtle but flattering.  Her outfit was navy with pink piping around the wrists and neckline complimenting her silk blouse.

Good morning, Miss said the concierge as he held the door and showed her the way to the lift. Good morning she responded with a smile that would melt frozen butter.  She could not help but marvel at the view she had from her office especially on such a day as today.  The Thames looked splendid with the boat taxis going up and down taking people to work or just on sightseeing trips on the river.   She thought about the people who had travelled along it over the centuries and in winter when it froze over how the children would go skating on it.

How many people had ended up sinking into the murky waters when a crack appeared in the ice without warning, and they were swept away by the undercurrent.  Swept out to sea never to be seen again, no goodbyes, just gone.   What was wrong with her thinking in such a negative way on this her first day at work?  Who knows the workings of a mind once it goes into fantasy land but it was time to snap out of it as Mr Hartman had just entered extending his hand for her to shake. She was not used to such manners she blushed, feeling like a teenager on a first date.   Wake up, this is not a date, its work, and time you came down to earth and showed him how efficient you are.

The days passed and turned into months and now it was summer and the Thames was busy with holiday makers and she was often distracted by all the toing and froing on the river.  It was during her coffee break, she was sitting stareing out  the window when she saw what looked like a large black bag, it was stuck by the steps leading down from the tow path and what was that sticking out the side?  It looked like a hand but it couldn’t have been, because if it were the bag must contain a body and that was just too gruesome to contemplate.  It was probably a mannequin from one of the shops and children had found it amusing to toss it into the Thames.

 She called Mr Hartman over and asked him what he could see on the other side of the river?  His face went white as he too had seen what looked like a body in a bag.  He picked up the phone and called the police. Within minutes they arrived,  a police boat arrived soon after.   They dragged the ‘body’ up onto the boat and sped off leaving onlookers wondering what was going on and how long had the body been there.  Also, who was it, surely someone would be reported missing? 

The police asked the usual questions of those in the office, but nothing of any consequence came to light. It would seem that this morning was the first time the bag had been noticed by anyone, either in the office or anywhere else  along the embankment.  It hit the headlines, ‘Body in a bag found in the Thames.’  Anyone knowing of a missing person please contact Detective Spencer 07778 675 433 with details.   Weeks turned into months and no one heard who the person was or even their gender.  It bothered her that someone could go missing and no one show any interest.  Perhaps it was a foreigner, someone on holiday who hadn’t been due home for several months.  Perhaps no one cared enough to make inquiries.   After awhile she too stopped thinking about it and then there it was, body named and case re-opened.  It was a young woman from Switzerland and several months pregnant which made it even more tragic.  There was also a photo of the young lady, smiling happily on a bright Spring morning as daffodils could be seen along the Embankment.  She stared long and hard at the photo and then it came back to her, where she had seen the face before.  It was here, the day of her interview, the young lady had entered the cloakroom, just as she was leaving. They had smiled and exchanged pleasantries then gone their separate ways.   She looked in her purse for the detectives card and rang the number.

 ‘Detective Spencer can I help you?’  She explained why she was ringing and he thanked her and said he would be there straight away to talk to the staff so make sure she made herself known and he would meet her at the reception desk.    It seemed like an eternity before he appeared and they went into an empty office to discuss what she knew which really wasn’t much.  It was strange that no one else had recognised the lady as others must have seen her.  Perhaps she too had been there for an interview, but if so, why had Mr Morgan not mention it? He must have seen the headlines...   

Copyright Jane Goodhew