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‘Nine out of ten,’ I tell her, grinning.
‘Nine?’ she says indignantly. ‘Why did I lose a point?’
‘Because you’re wearing it. It would be a ten if you weren’t.’
She play-punches me in the shoulder.
‘OK, I deserved that,’ I say, glancing at my watch. ‘We should go. Table’s booked for seven thirty.’
She nods and grabs her bag. Downstairs, we say goodbye to Amber, who’s engrossed in a game of chess with Natalia.
‘Dad, she’s thrashing me,’ Amber wails, staring at the board.
Natalia whips up her head. ‘No, no, I did not hurt her, I swear.’ Her expression is one of concern as her eyes dart between me and Hannah.
Amber laughs, though I stifle my smile.
‘It’s OK, Natalia,’ Hannah replies. ‘She just means that you’re winning at the game.’
Natalia’s face relaxes and she slumps back in her chair. ‘Oh, this language, I will never learn.’ She shakes her head and moves her bishop. ‘Check,’ she says to Amber, waving us off.
‘Belle’s back at ten,’ Hannah calls out from the front door. We’re both relieved that she agreed to go to the cinema with Jenny. She’ll be getting the bus home later.
In the restaurant, I pull out the chair for Hannah, feeling a sudden surge of adrenalin in the pit of my stomach. The waiter catches my eye as he hands us the menus and I give him an imperceptible nod. It’s all arranged.
‘Fancy place,’ Hannah says, looking around. ‘I’m loving the pianist.’
‘I wanted to treat you,’ I say, glancing over at the grand piano set at an angle to the diners. ‘You deserve it.’ But something on her face tells me that she doesn’t believe she does.
‘Can we afford it?’ she whispers, leaning forward.
I nod. ‘Things are improving,’ I tell her, though it’ll be a while before my business gets back on track fully. ‘That big new client came good.’ I’m purposefully vague. The worry of the last few months has taken its toll, but I’m not about to burden Hannah with all that. I’ve shielded her from it this far and I don’t want to let on how much things got in the way, how day and night I was consumed by fear and worry, terrified it would all blow up. How close a call it was. But there’s no chance of that now.
‘Oh my God, look at the prices,’ she says, pointing to the seafood section. ‘The lobster!’ she exclaims.
‘Have it, if you want.’
The waiter comes up, ready to take our drinks order.
‘A bottle of this, please,’ I say, pointing at the wine menu before Hannah can protest.
‘You choose, then,’ she jokes after the waiter has gone. He soon returns with a bottle of their most expensive champagne.
‘Really?’ she asks, looking at me with raised eyebrows as the sommelier gently pops the cork, offering me a sample to taste. I nod and he pours two glasses. ‘What did you get?’ she says. ‘A hint of fifty-pound notes with the aftertaste of an overdraft?’
‘Cheers,’ I say, laughing and raising my glass. ‘To us,’ I add. ‘And no, as it happens, I got a taste of things to come. Of our future. And it was delicious.’
‘Good job we’re getting a taxi back, then,’ Hannah replies, chinking my glass with hers. She takes a sip. ‘Mmm, delicious indeed,’ she says. ‘Let’s hope it really does taste like the future.’
‘Oh, I have no doubt about that,’ I tell her. My hand comes to rest on my pocket, just making sure. For about the hundredth time this evening.
We order the seafood sharing platter to start with, at my insistence, and Hannah finally agrees to the fresh lobster, while I order a fillet steak.
‘I feel like I need to open an Instagram account just to brag about all this,’ she says, laughing as a huge silver dish of oysters, langoustines, squid, prawns and New Zealand mussels arrives.
I watch her as she takes her time squeezing fresh lemon onto an oyster followed by a dash of Tabasco. She’s totally absorbed and wrapped up in anticipation. It shows on her face, the way her eyes are alight, the upturned corner of her mouth, which is open just a little bit. I take delight in watching the woman I love most in the world indulge herself. Of course, none of this would have been possible without Darren or Vaughn. Or should I say, without Darren or Vaughn beingdead. But I can’t tell Hannah that, or the real reason behind my meeting with Darren the evening I found the photographs in the safe. It was Darren, in fact, who was able to provide me with a clue about the new code that Hannah had used. I never believed Darren would stoop that low, giving those pictures of Belle to her, but he was intent on showing me just how serious he was. And I couldn’t think of a worse way for him to do that – to threaten Belle. Myfamily.
‘Let’s just say we’ve had an issue with one of our regulars,’ he’d told me, before he’d even got his claws into Belle or announced their engagement – the first veiled threat. Then he’d drawn a line across his neck, indicating what happens to those who dared to cross him or Vaughn. ‘You’ve been reliable in the past, and we need your expertise again. The police have been sniffing around us in London and we need someone more remote. You’re one of our oldest contacts, Rob. You don’t have a choice.’
