When she was gone, Audrey gave Jennifer a distinctly unimpressed look.
“Was that supposed to prove something?”
“Yeah,” said Jennifer. “It proves she’ll be fine. And it proves that you’re good at this. And it proves you don’t have to tie yourself in fucking knots just because you did something with slightly higher stakes than reporting on a teenager stuck in a swing.”
Audrey didn’t know whether to be flattered or freaked out that Jennifer still seemed to be reading her articles, even though she’d been off the show for a fortnight. “Hey, that was the second time it had happened to the same kid, which is why it was newsworthy.”
“Becauseteenager makes bad decision twiceis such a rare event.”
“Yeah…” Standing, Audrey de-cricked her neck from an afternoon hunched over footage. “I’m not sure low-key manipulating reality TV contestants is exactly my calling either.”
“Doesn’t have to be. I’m just saying that your options aren’t limited to working yourself to death on Fleet Street or boring yourself to death in Felton Butler.”
Jennifer was trending pointwards and Audrey didn’t like it. “Frankly, I’m just impressed you know where Felton Butler is.”
“Well, I’m a very impressive woman. And right now, I’m an impressive woman with a job to do, so you can either shut up and let me get on with it. Or piss off back to Shropshire and cuddle your tortoise.”
This was definitely new. This whole being offered a choice whether you pissed off or not. In Jennifer Hallet world it was practically a candlelit dinner. And, on a different day, Audrey would have stuck around. But she also had things to do because she was—as Jennifer had reminded her—in her own way also a very impressive woman.
* * *
Audrey managed to catch Doris in the carpark, where she was waiting for a taxi to take her to the nearest train station.
“Hi,” she began, a little self-consciously.
“Hello.” Doris shuffled over on the bench to make room, and Audrey sat down next to her.
Probably it was best not to jump straight intoCan I try to locate the woman who broke your heart half a century ago?so Audrey went for a more neutral opener. “What a week.”
“Yeah,” agreed Doris. “All excitement here onBake Expectations. I think Linda made the right call, though. No sense in the poor thing staying if it was going to be tough on her.”
“And I think it was brave of her, in a way,” added Audrey, not quite sure who she was trying to convince.
Doris nodded. “S’pose so, s’pose so. And young Reggie deserved the win.”
Audrey hadn’t even paid attention to that part of the competition, but it seemed rude to admit it. “Patisserie was always going to be his week,” she said. “He’s so precise.”
“Oh yeah, Marianne loved how identical his macarons was.”
If there was ever a man who could make four dozen identically shaped and sized macarons it would be Reggie. And while Audrey didn’t think he was making the final, patisserie week was a prestigious one to win.
“Beginning to think you’re wrong about the final, actually,” Doris went on. “I’ve not won one yet, and I don’t see as how they can let me through without at least one win under my belt.”
“Maybe. Like I say, I’m not an expert. But theydopay attention to story. And I think your story’s pretty compelling.”
Doris gave her an almost melancholy look. “Maybe. But if you mean about, you know, about me and her, then that’s not what the show’s about and there’s not that much more to tell.”
“Actually”—this seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up—“there was something I wanted to ask you about that.”
Doris nodded. It wasn’t quite a wary nod, but it was the nod of a woman who knew there was another shoe to drop.
“How would you feel if hypothetically I…I’m sort of thinking I could maybe find Emily. If you wanted.”
For a long while there was no reply. Doris just sat there,processing and looking for words. And Audrey let her sit because if bringing this up in the first place had been borderline unfair, pushing the issue now would be flat-out mean.
“I reckon,” said Doris at last, “that I’d always figured she was dead. Not always, I mean, but eventually. Most everybody else is.”
Audrey didn’t want to interrupt, but she told herself that there was nothing wrong with sharing information. “I’ve not found a death certificate. And I’ve looked.”
