His hand drifted to mine. ‘Don’t leave early on my account.’ He raised his glass of beer. ‘I’m fine. You keep doing your thing.’
An hour later, we were still there as I got caught up in various discussions and debates about aspects in the book which led to other subjects. Finn remained beside me for the most part but said nothing.
‘And what do you think of the book?’ Friedrich asked, directing his pale gaze at Finn who took a moment to realise hewas being spoken to. Everyone in the small group turned to face him.
‘I’m afraid I haven’t read it.’ Finn gave a shrug and took a large swig of his drink.
‘Really?’ Friedrich asked, apparently all astonishment as he looked around. ‘I have to say I’m surprised, knowing you were invited to such a prestigious launch.’
‘He came with me, Friedrich,’ I said, flashing my ex a warning glare.
‘Still, I’m sure there are others who would have appreciated the opportunity to attend. Those who perhaps might have actually taken the time to read the book we’re all here to celebrate.’
Finn finished the rest of his drink in one go and gave the group a sharp nod. ‘Excuse me.’ He turned and walked calmly away, placed his empty glass on the bar and continued out of the door.
I threw Friedrich a furious glare and turned to follow Finn but instead walked slap bang into one of my old university tutors. Fifteen minutes later I finally managed to excuse myself and hurried out of the venue, looking for Finn. I scanned the street and spied a familiar shape sitting on a bench.
‘Finn,’ I called, but my words were carried away by the noise of an ambulance, hurtling up the street, sirens wailing. ‘Finn!’
He started at the sound of his name. The collar of his coat was turned up against the cold, his hands rammed deep into his pockets. ‘What are you doing out here?’ I asked, hurrying up to him.
He gave a mirthless smile. ‘It’s warmer out here than in there.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m livid with Friedrich for acting like that. I don’t know what he thought he was doing.’
‘Belittling people, Elizabeth. I guess it amuses him and his literary cronies.’ He looked up at me properly. ‘Bloody hell, what are you doing? You haven’t even got a coat on!’
‘I was looking for you! I got stuck talking to an old professor. I’m so sorry.’
He stood and wrapped his arms around me, transferring his warmth.
‘Let’s go home,’ I said, my words muffled as I spoke them into his chest.
‘Sounds like a bloody good idea to me. But let’s get your coat first so I don’t have to call that ambulance back here to thaw you out.’
I grinned up at him. ‘I’m pretty sure you have much more interesting ways of warming me up.’
His arms wrapped tighter. ‘Now that,’ he said, ‘is something I really am an expert on.’
A pigeon who was clearly regretting the fact that his species didn’t elect to head to warmer climes for winter sat clinging to a skeletal branch of a London plane tree as it whipped around in the gale. All week the nation had been warned to batten down for severe winds in the usual dire, apocalyptic tones adopted by the media for such circumstances. I blew in through the heavy, Victorian oak doors of the museum and headed up to my office.
Somewhere along the way, I must have taken a wrong turn because this was not my office. The bones of it seemed familiar but in its place was a Christmas grotto so spectacular, or gaudy, depending on your opinion, that it made me wonder if Selfridges was missing a large part of their festive display.
‘Hi!’ Finn bounced into the room, apparently as full of the joys of the season as my office. ‘What do you think?’
‘Umm…’
‘I asked Inis if she thought you’d mind.’ He took in my face. ‘I’m beginning to think she might have been wrong.’
‘Oh!’ I looked up at the handsome, and currently crestfallen, face. ‘No, it’s just…’
He held up his hands, palms towards me, a smile that was a mere shadow of the one that had been there moments before fixed on his face. ‘I’m sorry.’ Finn scanned the office. ‘I guess I got a bit carried away. I love Christmas.’
‘I would never have guessed.’
His cheeks flushed. ‘I’ll take it down.’ He reached for a thick strand of tinsel that outlined the top of the door frame and I stilled his hand.
‘No,’ I said, pulling him gently back. ‘Leave it.’
