Frowning, it took me a second to realise it was a reminder of the parlour games later that evening. It felt silly next to all the other messages and calls. I’d call him, let him know I might be a little later than I said.
Then I paused in the street, a strange moment where I felt as if I’d forgotten something important. I checked my bag for my wallet, checked the time on my mobile. Shrugging off the feeling I pressed Luke’s name, still scanning the road for an approaching cab as I waited for him to answer.
‘Hey,’ I said launching straight into the call. ‘Where are you?’ I asked, hearing voices in the background.
‘I’m with Geoffrey and Arjun,’ he said, sounding distracted. A girlish giggle, high and loud.
‘Who’s that?’
‘What?’
Why did I feel Luke could hear me perfectly well? ‘Who was—’
‘Luke,’ a voice called, interrupting my question. A woman. Something familiar in her tone.
I frowned into the phone. ‘What are you guys doing?’ I asked.
Luke sounded distracted as he burbled a response. ‘Um, we’re not doing much, I just thought I would see how Arjun was getting on.’
Why did he sound so strange? Stilted and guilty. It made me bristle a response. ‘All right for some. Work going well then?’
‘Yes, fine,’ he said, clearly not picking up on my tone.
I hoped the next time he went to the Tube the screen announced the next train was eight minutes away.
‘Well, I was just letting you know I’ve been asked to take on a case at the last minute. I might be a bit late tonight.’ Luke was saying something to someone else, his distracted tone making me bristle more, a cab heading towards me in the distance. ‘So that’s it, I have to go, the taxi’s here . . . ’
‘Right, sorry, OK, see you lat—’
The taxi pulled over next to me as I jabbed at the call. Job done. I needed to head to the train station. As I stepped inside the cab I suddenly realised where I had heard that girlish voice before: Storm. But how? Why would she be with Luke if he was visiting Arjun? It made no sense but I didn’t have time now to unpick it.
The afternoon was a blur: meeting with the client, reading up on the case, trying to get a handle on the statements I’d read. The judge, a middle-aged woman with tortoiseshell glasses, had thanked me for stepping in and although things had been up in the air I felt heroic on leaving the courthouse a few hours later. The moment I headed back to London on the train I wanted to rest my head against the seat and fall asleep. I knew I should cancel the night ahead, I had so much to do. The thought spurred me on to drag my eyes over the documents in front of me.
Paddington was just getting busy as I grabbed the escalator, passing adverts for West End shows I would never have the time to see, books I would never read. I froze as the escalator went to spew me out on to the bustling floor, people jostling around me, some pushing past, bags and briefcases pressed to their chests. I froze to the spot. Oh my God. That was the niggle in the back of my mind today: Amy. The brooch.
I stared back up at the escalator, at the stream of people. Did I have time to head back outside, get to the shop? What time had Amy said? Maybe I could make it, if I raced back up, ordered a taxi from there, prayed the rush-hour traffic was less than normal? I checked my watch, feeling a sinking sensation, knocked off balance by someone tutting as they passed me. It was five thirty. The shop would be closed. I had forgotten. I couldn’t move from where I stood, chewing my lip as if I could will time to move backwards. I thought of Amy’s words, her desperation, the ultimatum. And this wasn’t something I could replace.
Someone else tutted as they skirted me.
I started to be pulled along by the crowd, moving in a daze as I ran through any options I had left. I wanted mobile reception. Maybe the woman would agree to a later time, perhaps she had been exaggerating and could open it tomorrow? How early was her flight? I could try. It wasn’t over yet.