‘The whole thing was fun!’
‘Fun?’ he laughs with a cock of his head, and I laugh too.
‘How far to the hotel?’ I ask.
‘Just a couple of minutes,’ he says. ‘I only booked taxis because I didn’t want to shepherd guests across the mayhem of the Euston Road.’
‘You know London well?’ I ask, watching the crowds of pedestrians from the cab window.
‘I’ve lived here on and off throughout my life so, yeah, I do.’
‘What brought you here?’ I ask, trying to pull bits of the Flynn puzzle together.
‘My dad’s had a flat here since he was young, so I was back and forth as a kid, then here for university and now work. But I’ve been feeling the pull of home for ages, especially with my mum being on her own most of the time.’
‘Is Edinburgh home?’
He nods then explains that he’s split between both cities, and I remember that the company he works for has offices in both London and Edinburgh.
‘What stops you returning full-time?’ I ask as we drive past the British Museum, the elegant terraced houses and gardens of Bloomsbury reminding me of home.
‘You know . . . life, work, the usual stuff.’
I’m about to ask him a bit more when the taxi pulls up next to an imposing red-brick Regency building.
‘This is us,’ he says, opening the cab door for me then leading the way to the covered entrance. ‘Perhaps—’ he begins but is cut short when a passenger approaches and he’s taken away to solve the next problem of the day.
‘It’s official, I’ve died and gone to heaven,’ I say to Mum and Elsa as we arrive at the hotel library for the evening reception, having spent a couple of hours chilling in our luxurious rooms. Jude was right, good things do exist away from Edinburgh.
‘You and me both,’ says Mum as Elsa is greeted by Marleen and they head for two winged armchairs in a corner of the book-lined room.
‘Imagine if the bookshop looked like this,’ I say to Mum, admiring the elegant cream shelves, two window seats and chesterfield armchairs, and a polished parquet floor ideal for off-setting tables of books. I snap a photo to send to Dad with the message:Check it out. Formal and feminine. Perfect décor for the bookshop!
He replies instantly:Very nice. Looks pricey.
To which I reply:You gotta dream big.
‘What did he say?’ Mum asks over-keenly.
‘That it looks expensive,’ I say, more conscious than ever of Dad’s loan and the secret I’m keeping.
‘Right,’ she sighs resignedly.
‘Evening!’ sings Daisy, bounding up to me with a cheerful smile, Joe following up behind. Mum breaks away from me to browse the books.
‘Hi,’ I say. ‘Isn’t this beautiful?’
‘Oh my God,’ enthuses Daisy, a cocktail already in hand. ‘I swear I’ve fallen into a Virginia Woolf novel. All we need now are flapper dresses and Joe in a tux and the picture would be complete!’
‘I love that image,’ I laugh, accepting a daiquiri from a passing waiter.
‘Wasn’t the train ride sublime?’ says Daisy, pullingJoe and me over to a table and chairs in a nook of shelves. ‘I’msoexcited about Paris tomorrow. Can you believe we’re actually going to be in the most goddamn romantic city on the planet?’
‘Agreed,’ I say, unable to compete with her high-octane enthusiasm which makes Jude’s brand of pep look positively flat. ‘Have you been before?’
Daisy finishes a slurp of her cocktail. ‘Nope.’
‘Joe?’
