Becks rolls onto her elbow on her sun-bed. “Right. Yes. The Peckham problem. The Charity Commission have got us locked in this absurd loop where we cannot get sign-off on the community health program without a senior medical authority attached to the application.”
“How long until we lose the space?”
“End of the week.”
I flush. “Fuck.”
“And you know how hard it was to secure.”
“Becks. I am so sorry. The Foundation is supposed to be my life’s work and in this last week I have left you with all of it.”
“You have. But also you did almost die so I feel like I can let you off the hook this time.”
“That’s very gracious of you,” I reply.
“What can I say? Cabanas and insanely expensive champagne brings out the best in me.”
I laugh. “I do like that about you.”
“So, I have an idea. I’ve hesitated to bring it up because it feels like a—a thing.”
“I’m listening.”
“A thing where I am suggesting my own boyfriend for a job at my best friend's foundation.”
I don’t react immediately. McFilthy at the foundation? It’s not a terrible idea.
“I know. I know. But Callum. He has the credentials. He has the senior medical bona fides. He has been published in the Lancet six times. Don’t get me wrong, Ilovethe fact that he’s part ofDoctors without Bordersbut it would also be nice to have him around for longer than a few days at a time. And in theory he could help more people through this well-funded program than with his own hands.”
I sit up. “Becks. He'sperfect.”
“You're sure?”
“I am sure. Obviously sure. He is exactly what we need. Will he do it?”
“He'll do it if I ask him.”
It is somewhere around the bottom of the second bottle that Becks reaches across the gap between our sun-beds and takes my hand again.
“Saint Ives.”
“Yes.”
“I'm really glad you're okay.”
I open my mouth to saythank youand what comes out is nothing. I don’t want to cry at The Grosvenor & Vine in front of three men in yachting shoes.
“Don't cry,” she says. “You'll mess your eyes up. The boy with the spritzes has been giving me significant looks and I want to leave with my dignity.”
The server offers another round of Aperol Spritzes and we shrug and saywhy not.
CHAPTER 31
Grosvenor & Vine
ALISTAIR
The phone buzzes in my pocket while I am still looking at the lawn.
