‘Yes. Well, I was looking for an old friend and she said that you might be able to help. Lila Anderson?’
Digby nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s the boss’s girlfriend.’
‘Is she here today?’
‘Nah, she doesn’t come in so much.’ He must have sensed her disappointment. ‘But the boss, Cammy – he might be able to help.’
Caro’s heart was thudding out of her chest again and she was fairly sure that very unattractive beads of sweat were forming on her upper lip. This was it. She was about to take that defining step, because as soon as she’d spoken to Lila’s boyfriend she’d have to tell the whole truth and then there’d be no going back.
Do it? Don’t. Do it? Don’t…
‘Is he around?’
Digby shook his head. ‘Sorry – he’s got the day off today. And henevertakes the day off so you’ve just been unlucky.’
She bit back something trivial, like, ‘story of my life’, and replaced it with a more casual, ‘Ah, no worries.’
‘Do you want me to leave a message? Ask him to pass it on?’
Caro shook her head as she lifted the bag containing the boxers. ‘No, it’s fine – thanks. I’ll just drop her a note on Facebook.’
‘You’ll definitely get her on there – she’s never off it.’
‘That sounds like a plan then. Thanks for this,’ she held up the bag and then wondered if he noticed the sweat beads. He probably had that down as guilt, and irrevocable proof that she had another four boxes of Calvin Klein’s up the front of her jacket.
This was ridiculous. She was actually losing the plot altogether.
The door pinged again as she left, her attention immediately grabbed by an Evoque that was practically abandoned in the middle of the road. That was some crazy parking right there. The thought momentarily distracted her from the realisation that she had absolutely no idea where to go. Ok, focus. She was still only a couple of streets away from the station, so she could head back there. Actually, not could – sheshouldhead back there. This had gone far enough. There was no progress to report, but maybe that was fine. After all, she had nothing to gain here. Nothing. If itwasher dad cosying up to his other daughter, Lila, in those photos, was he going to come rushing back to her, arms open wide, begging to take care of her? No. So finding out the truth had absolutely no upside, yet the downside was a whole big hot mess with the potential to create havoc.
Walk away.
Once again, she decided that the best thing to do was to stroll back to the station and get on the next train north. Definitely this time. That was what she should do.
She retraced her steps back to George Square, which was still heaving with revellers. The afternoon daylight had already almost turned to nightfall, so the brightness of the Christmas lights was stunning. On any other year, it would fill her with Christmas spirit and joy, make her want to drink mulled wine,and pick up gorgeous little presents for everyone that she loved. Not this year.
The station was directly ahead now, across the square, all she had to do was walk there. Two minutes max. That was it. Her feet kept on going. One minute.Keep on striding. Thirty seconds. That’s when she noticed it – the hotel to the right-hand side of the station, a beautiful old white building with a glass frontage that looked directly on to the square. Inside she could see people sitting, drinking, chatting, and suddenly she wanted to be in there. To be one of them. Not a care in the world other than the wait for the next French Martini. She wanted to shrug the weight and worry of the day off her shoulders and just be another tourist, sitting in a bar, gazing in awe at the Christmas spectacle through the window. The train could wait.
Before she’d even made a conscious decision to do so, she’d changed course. She went inside, reaching the glass frontage just as a couple were leaving a corner table. Perfect timing. The waiter appeared almost instantly.
‘I’ll have a gin and tonic, please.’ This felt so strange. She could honestly say that she had never, ever sat in a bar and drank on her own before. Another first.
He came back with the G&T and deposited it with a small bowl of nuts on the table. Caro asked for the Wi-Fi code before he went, then typed it into her iPad.
Click. Facebook. Search. Lila Anderson.
Lila had posted two, no, hang on,threephotos that afternoon so far. Didn’t she do anything without turning it into an attention-seeking expedition? How did she even have time to take so many photos?
There was a ridiculous one in the car, wearing sunglasses in flipping December. The next one asked for a poll on herlipstick and the last one, in the car again, declared it was champagne and pamper time.
Caro was already halfway into an eye roll when she realised she had no right to judge, given that so far her afternoon consisted of a grooming session, a lovely lunch, and a large gin and tonic.
She went back to Facebook and realised with a jolt that Lila was in a salon.
Hang on, had she missed her in Pluckers? Was she there now? Definitely not. Suze had been sure she wasn’t coming in today. But then, a girl like Lila probably frequented many beauty venues, so there was nothing to say that she was definitely referring to Pluckers. Time to accept that finding Lila in a city the size of Glasgow was highly unlikely. Right now she could be absolutely anywhere.
She pulled out her phone and called Todd again.
‘How do you feel about Calvin Klein?’ she asked when he answered.
