“I love you too,” I answer. In the answer there’s a lot of stuff. And then he’s gone.
Shit, I didn’t ask how he was. I didn’t even ask wherehe was. It sounded outdoorsy, busy, crowded, maybe a station but—
I really don’t have time for this. I race up to the top landing, fumble the loft ladder stick into its hook in the ceiling, and pull.
I find them up in the loft, exactly where I left them, tucked under a loose layer of pastel yellow insulation, in their pouch. Glittering in the cream leather, gently warmed by the heating pipes. I seize them and push the insulation back into place.
As I’m making my way down the ladder, the doorbell rings. I freeze, mid–ladder rung.
A flash of terror, like a shot through my system.
I suddenly wish we still had that gun—the one we dumped in the sea in Bora Bora. Were we stupid not to keep it? Do I need it?
But then, what the hell would I do with a gun? I don’t know how to use one. I wouldn’t even know if it was loaded or how to do the safety catch or anything.
No, I don’t need a gun. This will be fine. I’m being paranoid. It’s broad daylight. I continue down the ladder from the loft, jumping the last three rungs and sprinting back down to the hall.
Hot-cheeked, I pull open the front door, grateful for the blast of September wind it lets in. And there stands Simon.
Simon looks harmless. Suit, tie, smile. Not the smile of a predator, just the smile of an iffy friend of your dad’s, maybe. A little bit too knowing a smile, but ultimately harmless.
I don’t need a gun, of that I’m suddenly sure.
His manner suggests we’re both in this together; I’m part of the gang now.
“Simon?” I have to say something; we’ve been standing in silence for slightly too long now.
“Guilty as charged.” He grins. I’m pretty sure he’s used that one before. But the inoffensive humor settlesme.
“Great.” I nod. I really don’t know what we do next. “Do you want to come in?” I hazard. From my tone I think it’s fairly clear to Simon I have no idea how this situation is usually supposed to go. I’m hoping he’ll take the lead quite soon.
“Nah, gotta dash. Thanks though, love. I’ll just grab the stuff and get out of your hair, if that’s all right?” He’s dealing with me beautifully. I appreciate this delicate handling of my obvious ineptitude; in an odd way, it’s very reassuring. I hand him the pouch. I’m relieved to be unburdened. That’s half the battle. He takes it.
But what about the money? Should I say something? Is that rude? But he beats me to it.
“You got a number for me?” He’s one step ahead. He’s obviously done this before.
“Yes, yes, here we go.” I fish the paper slip out of my pocket and smooth it out on my upper thigh. “Sorry, it’s creased. You can still see the numbers, though, can’t you?” I pass it to him.
We both stare down at the slip of paper in his hand, very clearly legible through the slight folds. I’m an absolute moron.
“Hmm, yep, yep, that should be fine,” he mumbles, over-feigning interest in the rumpled slip. “Right, I should be off then.” He weights both hands: a note in one, a million-pound pouch in the other. He grins and turns to leave, then stops.
“One quick question, love. How did it go today? Eddie wants to know.”
“Um, I don’t think it’s going to work out.” I say it gently, as if I’m personally heartbroken about the cruel twist of fate. Eddie the reformed hero denied a second chance with his daughter.
Simon seems confused by my answer.
“Why, what did she do?” He looks at me quizzically.
“Well, she watched it. The video. She cried. She was extremely upset but she was concerned about her children and—”
“Oh, the kids,” he interrupts. “Oh well, fair enough.” He seems satisfied. I wonder if this was an official inquiry about Lottie or if I’ve spoken out of turn.
“Don’t worry about the kids.” Simon’s smiling again. Order restored. “He can get round all that. Good work, though, sweetheart. She cried, aye? Nice. Very good sign. Eddie’s gonna bloody love that. That’ll cheer him right up. If she’s crying, we’re halfway there.” He beams at me. Today’s going well for him.
“Right, darling, I’m off then. Take care.” And with a cheery hand raise, he’s away.
