I knelt down and picked it up. It was a postcard from New York: the Chrysler Building sparkling against an indigo sky. I turned it over and started to read.
Dear Member,
Great news!
Rumours of my demise have been vastly overstated. A few bullets can’t stop me! A surgeon was called to my home recording studio and the pesky pellets were removed in between takes of guitar solos.
In unrelated news, art thief Vladimir Terribol was spotted boarding a flight from Moscow to Heathrow, so that’s where I’m heading, too – I’m coming to London, baby!
Keep doing the Fandango!
Zak x
When was this sent? I scanned the stamp, trying to make out the date, but the postmark was a blue smudge. I reread the postcard to make sure I’d understood it. I hadn’t seen Simon for years, but now he was coming to London? My heart thumped double time as I digested the news.
Simon was coming to London.
