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‘See you around, Lenny.’
‘Give my regards to Snow,’ he says.
I turn around and stare at him.
He smiles slowly. ‘Bad joke,’ he says.
I open the door and walk out of his property never to return.
Thirty-seven
SHANE
I stand outside the gates to her parents’ house. There is a bell, but before I can ring it, a skeletal man in an old s
hirt and stained baggy trousers starts crossing the garden and comes towards me. His face is full of wrinkles and he has only a few yellowing sticks for teeth. He stands a foot away from the gate and peers worriedly at me.
‘Snow. Is Snow home?’ I ask with a friendly smile.
And suddenly his face splits into two with a happy greeting. Nodding vigorously, he unlocks the gate and lets me in. I wait while he relocks the gate, and when he makes a beckoning gesture with his right hand, I follow him. He opens the front door, kicks off his rubber slippers and looks pointedly at my shoes.
‘Of course,’ I say, and take off my shoes.
He points to a sofa. I sit and he quickly disappears. I look around me. It reminds me of a Balinese interior with beautiful hardwood furniture and two fans tuning lazily on the ceiling. I walk to the window and look out … and I immediately see her.
She is in the garden sitting on a covered swing reading a book. I turn away to go to her and find a blonde woman in her early to mid forties standing at the entrance of the room. She is beautiful in a hard sort of way, and even though no two women could be less alike, I know immediately that this is Snow’s mother. She has the chilly, stern air of a school mistress. Her eyes sweep over me disparagingly. Oh fuck! T-shirt and jeans. Not a good look, Shane, my boy. She would have warmed better to a sharp suit and a Rolex watch.
She comes forward. ‘You are looking for my daughter, I believe,’ she says in such a strong British accent that she must take great pride in it to keep it so strong after all these years of living in a foreign country.
‘Hello, Mrs. Dilshaw.’
She inclines her head to acknowledge my guess. ‘I’m afraid I have no idea who you are.’
‘I’m Shane Eden.’
‘Have a seat, Mr. Eden.’
I walk to the settee I just vacated. She perches daintily on the one opposite mine. ‘May I ask what you want of my daughter?’
I smile. ‘I guess you could say that I’ve come to ask your daughter out.’
Her eyes become hostile. ‘Didn’t my daughter run away from you?’
‘No. She misunderstood the situation. I’ve come to explain.’
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr. Eden.’
I frown. ‘Why not?’
‘This is not London, Mr. Eden. We have different customs here. Certain … niceties have to be observed. Reputations are so easily ruined. Snow’s father is in the process of negotiating a marriage for her. I’m sure you’ll appreciate how confusing it will be for her to have your presence here now. I’m sorry you have had a fruitless journey, but I’m afraid you won’t be able to see my daughter.’
‘I totally understand. Thank you for being so frank with me,’ I say and stand.
She stands too, but with surprise etched in her eyes. I don’t think she expected such an easy victory.
I start walking to the front door and she follows.
The thin man is sitting on the front steps. When he sees me he stands up and runs towards the gate. I slip on my shoes.
