Ellie’s stomach gave a squeeze. She nodded. ‘I do.’
‘Me too.’
She put down her fork. ‘Does he talk back?’
‘No.’ Todd looked bemused; the idea had evidently never occurred to him. ‘How can he? He’s dead.’
***
‘Still speaking to me, then?’ Tony greeted them on their return to the flat.
‘You did exactly the right thing.’ Ellie gave him a hug. ‘Thank you.’
He patted her on the shoulder. ‘I’m glad it worked out. Just call me Svengali. Todd, come here. Good to see you again.’
Leaving them to their reunion, Ellie went through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. When they rejoined her, she said, ‘More like fairy godmother, the way you’ve been sorting out my problems.’
‘Make the most of it, I’m only here until Wednesday.’ Tony pinched a biscuit out of the tin. ‘Oh, and your new boss rang earlier. Can you call him back?’
‘He’s changed his mind about taking you on. You’re sacked already,’ said Todd.
Ellie made the coffee, then phoned Zack.
‘Hi, just letting you know I’ve got a breakfast meeting at the Savoy on Monday morning, so don’t turn up at the house at nine. Make it ten instead. I’ll definitely be back by then.’
‘OK, fine. Thanks.’ This was the kind of message she liked to hear.
Zack cleared his throat. ‘Who was it who answered the phone when I called before?’
Ellie hesitated; why was he so interested? And to think it was women who were meant to ask all the questions. Anyway, it wasn’t as if he could have recognized Tony’s voice; it wasn’t that distinctive. Easily she said, ‘That was just my friend. Right, ten o’clock on Monday. Anything else I need to know?’
‘Not that I can think of.’ For a moment he sounded as if he did want to say something else but was keeping a lid on it. ‘Right, enjoy the rest of your weekend,’ Zack said abruptly. ‘I’ll see you then.’
Chapter 13
It was Monday afternoon, a balmy summer’s day, and all human life was out here on Primrose Hill.
Well, not all human life. But enough to keep you entertained for hours. Following a morning of press interviews, Tony was enjoying being able to give his voice a rest. From his position on this south-facing bench, possibly the most spectacular view in London was stretched out in front of him. The sun blazed down from an almost cloudless sky. There were dog walkers out in force, and parents with small children playing games on the grass. There was a group of adults practicing t’ai chi. Sunbathers stripped down to essentials were stretched out on the ground, soaking up as many rays as humanly possible. Toddlers ate ice lollies and investigated daisies, teenagers played football, and a grandfather was gamely attempting to teach his grandson how to fly a kite.
Grandchildren. Tony, who would now never experience that particular joy, was speared with fresh grief. He watched the man try and fail to coax the kite up into the still air.
Don’t think about it.
A Rollerblader swooshed past with a Labrador on an extendable lead. On a bench further down the hill an old man was feeding the birds with a carrier bag of seed. Straight-backed and lost in concentration, a woman sat at an easel, painting the view. Her hair was very short, her skin was coffee-brown, and she was wearing a long geranium-red cotton dress that covered a generously curved body. Tony watched as her brush moved confidently across the paper, her bare arm almost dancing as she added color to the sky. One minute she was leaning forward concentrating on intricate detail, the next she was sitting back to survey the results. At one stage she smiled with satisfaction and he found himself smiling too, because the pleasure she was taking in creating the picture was infectious. From forty feet away he couldn’t be sure, but he thought she might be singing to herself.
Over the hill behind her came a teenager pushing a buggy and attempting to kick a soccer ball for the preschool boy with her. The baby in the buggy was crying, the small boy running ahead.
‘Kick it! Kick it to me!’ he yelled.
Distracted, the teenage girl managed to get the ball over to the boy and he aimed a wild kick at it, sending it sailing through the air. In a flash Tony saw what was going to happen next. The ball followed its inevitable trajectory, the boy chased after it, the teenage girl had already turned