‘I don’t?—’
‘Second, do you want to help him?’
‘Yes. Of course. He was kicked out by his parents, he’s young and he’s… polite.’
‘Where does he go at night?’
‘There’s a shelter he goes to: a soup kitchen near Liverpool Street Station.’
‘And his name is Paul what?’
‘Erm, I don’t know.’
‘All right. Have a good day. And stop stealing my food.’
Just like that, he hangs up the phone.
Before my computer even beeps to life, Amanda bounds into my office.
‘Who are you and where’s Scarlett Heath?’
I look around as if something in the office will clear my confusion.
‘Since when does the Scarlett HeathIknow take a day off?’
‘I’d gladly have taken another too.’
‘Seriously, where ismyScarlett?’ She plonks herself onto the edge of my desk and pushes the latte Margaret has left towards me. ‘What did you get up to?’
‘Walked. Talked. Ate.’
‘You’re literally beaming. Your hair looks pretty like that.’
I instinctively touch my roughly pinned-up hair. ‘I call it the I-didn’t-want-to-come-to-work style.’
‘This really is a whole new you. So, how are things? Have you heard any more from the police?’
She catches me off guard. The ballistics report says someone other than Gregory took that shot. It implicates me; that’s why Gregory is demanding another. We’re back to an excruciating countdown.
‘Nothing concrete yet.’ It’s not a lie, yet I feel guilty.
‘Soooo I called Williams on Saturday night.’
‘You did?’
‘I had a godawful date with a mind-numbing prick and it made me think that maybefunisn’t so much fun after all. We’re going out for dinner on Friday.’
‘Am I allowed to say I told you so?’
‘Really rather you didn’t.’
I snortle unattractively. ‘Fair enough.’
‘I have a proposition for you.’ There’s a glint in her eye. ‘How about we ditch yoga and go out for lunch.’
‘You’ve twisted my arm. One o’clock?’
‘Amaze! And we’re still on for drinks Saturday?’
