Page 105 of We Chase Shadows

‘I’m going to go home,’ says Rosie. ‘I’m going to have a Martini, and then I’m going to solve a murder.’

Rosie is good at dramatic exits.

What she is really going to do is go home, lock herself away, then curl into a ball and cry. Unless those gunshots lead to something. There will be Martinis later, but for now Rosie feels like she has been hit by Elspeth’s car. Everything ends, she knows that. But she doesn’t want this to be that end.

She stands.

‘I might still have wine?’ says Elspeth.

Rosie makes a ‘be my guest’ gesture.

She has enough money to see her through, but money is not why Rosie writes. Rosie writes because it’s the only thing no one will ever be able to take from her.

Diamonds can come and go. Cars and houses can be repossessed. But you’ll always be able to get your hands on a pen and a bit of paper.

Don’t get her wrong, she loves spending money. But Rosie has no interest in spending money if she isn’t earning money.

Earn your money fairly, don’t cheat on your tax, and spend what’s left on whatever you choose. Those are Rosie’s only politics.

Who is she without her stories? A caricature. A failure. My God, a joke?

As she is leaving, she sees a couple sitting at a quiet table. It is Steve and Georgie Glazier.

She thought he’d got a dentist appointment suspiciously easily.

Rosie allows herself a smile. Seeing Steve being so brave gives her a little hope. It’s easy to think there’s no future. Easy to give up.

Bonne chance, Stevie, you fine man. None of us is long for this world. Find some happiness where you may.

Rosie is on the floor again. What happens next is up to her.

55

It is not a date. Yes, Steve is wearing a jacket he has borrowed from Tony, but it is not a date. Sometimes a guy likes to wear a jacket. If you’d like to show Steve where in the laws of Great Britain and Northern Ireland it says that wearing a jacket is suddenly a crime, then feel free to lock him up.

‘You look very smart,’ says Georgie Glazier. ‘What’s the T-shirt?’

‘Saxon, British Tour ’88,’ says Steve. ‘You look …’

Now, his next choice of word is going to be very important. Something complimentary, but not flirtatious. Something that says he admires the way she looks, without being aroused by it. He can’t say she looks ‘beautiful’, obviously, although she does. She’s wearing a sort of blue top, and sort of cream trousers, and a necklace, and the blue top has some white piping on it. Her blonde hair looks like that woman from the film Debbie once made him see. ‘Beautiful’ is out, for sure, ‘pretty’ also, that’s too sexual. ‘Handsome’ doesn’t sound right at all. ‘Lovely’? Is that sexual? Or is it twee? ‘Wonderful’? Come on, brain, I need you right now, she’s beginning to stare.

‘You look,’ says Steve, ‘resplendent.’

‘Goodness,’ says Georgie.

Resplendent, thinks Steve. Thanks for nothing, brain.

‘Train okay?’ he asks. Back on safe ground.

‘I refuse to talk about trains,’ says Georgie. ‘You are far more interesting than that, Steve Wheeler.’

Steve recognizes that it’s not the time or place, but the rail infrastructure in the New Forest is actually very interesting. For instance, the reason you can’t get a direct train from Portsmouth to Brockenhurst is because, if you can believe this, a nineteenth-century by-law –

‘Sir?’ says a voice.

Steve realizes that a waiter has appeared and asked him a question.

‘Still or sparkling?’