‘Hello, Zoe. How are you?’ Simon caught up with her.
‘Middling to absolutely ghastly,’ she sighed. ‘I just can’t accept it. I remember her hugging me in the kitchen, and now . . . oh God, she’s not here any more. And James isn’t, and Marcus . . . I’m starting to wonder if our family is cursed.’
‘You can berate yourself forever and a day, but nothing’s going to bring Joanna back, or your grandfather or Marcus.’
‘I know the papers said she was on to a terrorist plot with her editor. She never mentioned a word to me.’
‘Well, you can’t be surprised by that.’
‘No. So.’ Zoe swallowed, conflicting emotions rendering her mouth dry. ‘How are you?’
‘Pretty low too, to be honest. I keep going over and over that night in my mind, wishing I’d waited for her to come with us, as you suggested.’ Simon stopped by the gate and looked back at the grave, the bright Yorkshire sun shining on the fresh earth that covered it. ‘I’ve asked for a sabbatical, I want to take some time to think things through.’
‘Where will you go?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe do a bit of travelling.’ He smiled at her wanly. ‘I don’t feel there’s anything to keep me here in England.’
‘When are you going?’
‘In the next couple of days.’
‘I’ll miss you.’ The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
‘I’ll miss you too.’ He cleared his throat. ‘How’s the Prince and living at the palace?’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I suppose it was sensible to move me in there after what happened. To be honest, I haven’t really settled, but it’s early days yet. I have my first official public engagement with him tomorrow. A film premiere, of all things.’ She smiled.
‘’Ain’t life ironic,’ Simon shrugged.
‘It sure is.’
‘Are you coming back to Joanna’s parents’ place for some tea?’ he asked her. ‘I can introduce you to my mum and dad. They’re very impressed that I know you.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t. I promised Art I’d get straight back. My new driver awaits.’ She indicated the Jaguar in the small car park. ‘Well then. I suppose this is goodbye. Thank you so much for everything.’ She reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
He squeezed her hand tightly. ‘Thanks. Goodbye, Zoe. It’s been an absolute pleasure looking after you.’
She walked swiftly away from him, not wanting him to see her tears. She heard him mumble something under his breath, so she stopped and turned back, her expression hopeful. ‘Did you say something, Simon?’
‘No. Just . . . good luck.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’ Zoe smiled up at him sadly. ‘Bye.’
He watched as she got into the Jaguar. ‘My darling,’ he added as the car drove away and out of sight.
The following afternoon, Simon walked along the heavily carpeted top corridor of Thames House towards the elderly receptionist.
‘Hello, I have an appointment with Sir Henry at three,’ he said, but she did not respond. Instead her eyes filled with tears.
‘Oh, Mr Warburton!’
‘What?’
‘It’s Sir Henry. He died last night at home. A fatal heart attack, apparently. Nothing anybody could do.’ The woman’s face disappeared into her sodden lace handkerchief.
‘I see. How . . . tragic.’ Simon only just managed to stop the word ‘ironic’ falling from his lips. ‘It’s unfortunate I wasn’t told.’
‘No one has been. They’re announcing it on the six o’clock news tonight. But,’ she sniffed, ‘we’ve all been told to continue as normal. Mr Jenkins is waiting for you in Sir Henry’s office. Do go through.’
