‘But I was here the other day. I heard you upstairs. Why didn’t you come down then?’
He shrugs. ‘I did. But by the time I’d got to the bottom of the stairs, you’d gone.’
‘Oh.’
‘Shall we …?’ Phin gestures at the staircase.
They follow him down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Phin sits on one side of the table; Miller and Libby sit on the other. Libby studies Phin’s face. He must be in his early forties, but he looks much younger. He has extraordinarily long eyelashes.
‘So,’ he says, spreading his arms wide, ‘this is all yours.’
Libby nods. ‘Although, really, it should have been my brother and sister’s, too?’
‘Well, more fool them. Oh, and I suppose I should wish you a happy birthday. A little belated.’
‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘How long since you were last here?’
‘Decades.’
There is a long and very brittle silence. Phin breaks it by saying, ‘I imagine you have some questions.’
Miller and Libby exchange a brief glance. Libby nods.
‘Well,’ says Phin, ‘shall we get out of this place? I live just across the river. I have cold wine. And a terrace. And cats that look like cushions.’
They exchange another glance.
‘I’m not going to kill you,’ says Phin. ‘And neither will my cats. Come. I’ll tell you absolutely everything.’
Twenty minutes later, Libby and Miller follow Phin out of a sleek lift and into a marble-floored corridor.
His apartment is at the other end.
Lights turn on automatically as he leads them down his hallway to a living room with glass doors on to a terrace overlooking the river.
Everything is pale and just so. A huge white sheepskin is draped over the back of a very long cream sofa. There is an extravagant arrangement of lilies and roses in a vase that wouldn’t look out of place in the showroom of Northbone Kitchens.
Phin uses a small remote control to open the doors on to the terrace and invites them to sit on a pair of sofas around a low table. While he goes to fetch wine, Libby and Miller exchange a look.
‘This place must be worth a couple of million,’ says Miller.
‘At least,’ says Libby. She stands up and takes in the view across the river. ‘Look!’ she says. ‘It’s the house. We’re completely bang opposite it.’
Miller joins her. ‘Well,’ he says drily, ‘I think we can assume that that is not a coincidence.’
‘Do you think he’s been watching?’
‘Yes, I totally think he’s been watching. Why else would you choose an apartment with this view?’
‘What do you think of him?’ she whispers.
Miller shrugs. ‘I think he’s a bit …’
‘Weird?’
‘Yes, a bit weird. And a bit …’
But then Phin returns, a bottle of wine and three glasses in an ice bucket in one hand, a cat held against his chest with the other. He puts the bucket down on the table but keeps the cat in his arms. ‘Meet Mindy,’ he says, holding the cat’s paw up in an approximation of a salute. ‘Mindy, meet Libby and Miller.’
The cat ignores them and tries to wriggle out of Phin’s embrace. ‘Oh,’ he says to the cat’s retreating form, ‘fine. Be a bitch, see if I care.’
Then he turns to them again and says, ‘She’s my favourite. I always fall in love with the ones who can’t bear me. It’s why I’m single.’
He opens the wine and pours them each a large glass.
‘Cheers,’ he says, ‘to reunions.’
They touch glasses and a slightly weighted silence follows.
‘This is an incredible view,’ says Miller. ‘How long have you lived here?’
‘Not long. I mean, they only just finished building these apartments last year.’
‘Amazing, isn’t it, being right opposite Cheyne Walk.’
Phin nods. ‘I wanted to be close,’ he says to Libby, ‘for when you came back.’
Another Persian cat appears on the terrace. This one is horribly overweight and has bulging eyes. ‘Ah,’ says Phin, ‘here he is. Mr Attention-seeker. He’s heard I have visitors.’ He scoops up the gigantic cat and rests it on his lap. ‘This is Dick. I called him that because it was the only way I could make sure I got some.’
Libby laughs and takes a sip of wine. In another realm, this would constitute a brilliant night out: two handsome men, a warm summer’s night, a glamorous terrace overlooking the Thames, a glass of cold white wine. But in this realm, everything feels warped and vaguely threatening. Even the cats.
‘So,’ says Miller, ‘if you’re going to tell us everything about what really happened