‘There doesn’t seem to be any other option right now.’
We hurried towards where Nick was waiting with the cab door open. I helped Jess and followed her in. ‘Are you okay, Jess?’
Her rosy complexion from earlier was gone – she looked ghostly pale.
‘How did those guys find me?’ she stammered.
Simon climbed in and sat on the fold-out seat opposite Jess, then Nick got in and installed himself opposite me.
‘Cayenne Court,’ he called to the cab driver.
‘Where are we going?’ said Simon.
‘My flat is nearby – we’ll be safe there.’
*
No one said much on the journey. I spent it avoiding Nick’s gaze and trying to dodge his knees – they knocked into mine every time we went over a speed bump.
Simon was looking behind us to make sure we weren’t being followed. ‘I think we’re in the clear,’ he said, after a while.
When we got to Nick’s flat, there was some discussion about what to do. Simon was suggesting he just take Jess home, but in the end, we decided she should come up to have a cup of coffee and draw breath.
Nick lived in a converted warehouse with dark yellow bricks and high windows. His flat was on the eighth floor, which meant taking the lift. He saw me pause to steel myself before I stepped in.
‘You okay?’ he whispered.
I nodded, then lifted my chin and forced myself into the lift just as the doors closed.
I concentrated on the numbered buttons lighting up as we swooped upwards, trying to tamp down my burgeoning claustrophobia.
Then the lift doors pinged open and we were released. I let out a breath as we followed Nick down the corridor towards a two-tone wood door with silver numbering.
‘Make yourselves comfortable,’ said Nick, letting us in. ‘I’ll go and make the coffees.’
Nick disappeared towards the kitchen while the three of us wandered into the living room. Like the hallway, the floors were light oak and the walls were stark white. Apart from a couple of candles in glass jars, and a chrome clock ticking the seconds away on the wall opposite, Nick’s flat looked unlived-in; fake almost. Like a film set, waiting for someone to dress it and actors to breathe life into it.
We sat down on a creaking leather sofa, taking care to put Jess between us. My instincts were to shield Jess from Nick; something didn’t smell right. Not literally – the place smelt of Jo Malone candles – but my gut was telling me that Nick wasn’t being entirely truthful. He was hiding something.
He came back with four espressos and sugar. I hated black coffee, but asking for milk would have looked like weakness. I would drink the damn thing as it came.
Jess poured a teaspoon of sugar into hers. ‘Is there somewhere I could smoke, Nick? My nerves could do with a cigarette.’
‘Go ahead and smoke here,’ he said. He nodded to a crystal ashtray which looked like it had never been defiled by cigarette ash.
‘No, it’s okay, I’ll leave it.’ said Jess. ‘You’re a non-smoker. I don’t want to make your home smell.’
‘It’s really not a problem, but if you prefer there’s a balcony off the bedroom – why don’t you go in there?’
Jess smiled gratefully, then grabbed her bag and followed Nick to his bedroom.
When they were gone, Simon scooched closer to me and picked up his coffee. I took a sip of mine and grimaced.
‘You hate black coffee,’ he said.
‘Yeah, but I don’t plan on staying long.’
Simon looked at me. ‘There’s something fishy going on.’
