“Maybe in Dover, or in Devonshire.”
“Don’t talk nonsense, Burlingham. Jemma would never go to lick her wounds in a castle in the middle of nowhere. She must be in London.”
“If she were in town, I would know. Derek would have told me.” At least I think he would.
“I’ll have to find her myself, then,” says Cécile pragmatically, rising from the armchair to leave.
“And how are you going to do that?”
“I have many disreputable acquaintances in London who could find a needle in a haystack. They will find her. Jesus, Burlingham. I’ve never liked you that much, but seeing you like this breaks my heart.”
“If you find her, talk to her, tell her that you saw me and that I’ve never had a relationship with Portia.”
“I know you haven’t. How could you, after Jemma. She’s the only one who ever managed to make you look like a real man. For a while, at least.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, offended.
“If you were a real man, you would come to London to look for her, and tell her face to face.”
“You never miss an opportunity to behave as if you are better than others.”
“Because I am,” Cécile says proudly, with her back to me as she walks to the door.
“You have sex with Harring, don’t you?”
Hearing my question, she stops like a broken amusement ride. Cécile is a good girl after all, one of the best I’ve ever met, but she needs to be brought back down a peg or two sometimes.
“What…” she tries to reply, but she’s lost for words.
“How long have you been doing it? A month at least, or maybe more.”
She turns round, trying to pull herself together. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to insinuate, here.”
“I don’t think I’m inventing anything.” I stare at her.
Cécile blushes, I see embarrassment in her eyes.
“Harring is my best friend, Jemma loves you. Your secret is safe with me. God knows that Harring needs a woman to keep him on the straight and narrow, and if there’s one that can do it, it’s you. Your superior attitude doesn’t work on me, I know far more than you think. Now, wait for me while I get changed. As soon as I’m ready, you and I will search London down to the sewers to find Jemma.”
For once, Cécile holds back her arrogance, and just nods in agreement.
*
We went to the theatre, to the former owner of her parents’ apartment, and to her grandmother Catriona’s mansion, that – wait for it – was sold a few days ago.
We questioned Derek, but he doesn’t know where Jemma is, either. She’s in town, but she was very careful not to let him know where she lives.
She’s somewhere out there, and she never wants to see me again.
I have to accept it.
87
Jemma’s Version
I look like a barrel. I can’t see my toes and I need to wee every half hour.
Last night, I woke up at 2 a.m. craving mango.
