to substantiate a lineage before him, the line from Certain Dunmow to Robert Cutt was strong and unwavering. It stopped at his name. There was nothing else on the bottom of the screen, just his pompous flashing moniker.
He was right, then. No dirt there.
I sighed and pushed back my laptop. My fingertips were tingling. That usually meant something: my intellect often managed to converse with my body way before my conscious mind got wind of it. But mindful of the fact I was online, and wanting to avoid any communication with Hackerman, I closed down the PC and retired to bed. It was just gone ten o’clock but I had to get my beauty sleep.
I would be seeing Felix tomorrow. I wanted to look my best.
Chapter Sixteen
The weekend’s good weather continued into Monday. In fact I might have almost described that day as glorious; I remember the sun being very bright and having a good go at warming the air around Colchester. Which made it not so bad when I got a call from Felix telling me he would be an hour late. His author needed to go over some contractual details and, although he was annoyed that this hadn’t been flagged up earlier, there was really nothing else to be done but take her through the small print.
I didn’t mind that much, instead taking the opportunity to have a wander through the narrow streets of the city centre. Colchester was a kooky kind of place; full of lanes and byways, Tudor homes converted into hairdressers, antique shops in modern shopping malls. I grabbed some lunch in a small café teeming with students fresh back from the summer break, bubbling with enthusiasm and new stories to tell.
With twenty minutes to kill I sauntered down to a place I’d passed near the car park where I’d deposited the car. St Boltoph’s Priory was a towering ruin of arches and windows that, at some point, must have been spectacular. In its centre a smattering of tombs and plaques peeped up between stubby brown grass and earth. Peacefully removed from the buzz of the main roads, a couple of late lunchers were sitting on the benches finishing their treats.
Making my way back up to the castle I nipped into the tourist shop opposite and bought a small handy guide to Colchester, which, the assistant assured me, contained a fair amount of history on the castle. On my way out I paused to check my reflection in the shop window. Not bad for a journo. I didn’t look overdressed for the occasion; slim black jeans and a navy sparkly jumper teamed with a tailored jacket and black boots gave me a professional but louche kind of attitude. Well, that’s what I thought until Felix marched up, a youthful energy to his gait. He bent down and stroked my cheek with his stubble and I felt his lips press against my face firmly. The breeze had picked up the ends of his hair and ruffled them about a bit. He pushed up his fringe and smiled.
There was something about Felix Knight that was really quite magnetic. I gave an approving nod to his out-of-office get-up: chinos, Converse, jacket – all immaculate and probably worth more than a month of my wages.
‘Hello, esteemed author,’ he said, stitching on that easy grin. ‘You’ve got lipstick on your teeth.’
Luckily olive skin hides blushes.
Once I removed the offending cosmetic accident I returned my face to him and shrugged. He dispelled my embarrassment by immediately blustering out apologies for his tardiness, promising to take me for a drink or ‘proper English tea’ after we’d toured the castle. I, of course, assented.
‘But first,’ he said breezily, ‘would you mind if I grabbed a quick bagel or something? I’m famished.’
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I passed a sandwich bar down the road, near St Botolph’s. Looked okay.’
‘St Botolph’s?’
‘It’s an old church further down. Nice grounds.’
‘Old?’
‘Church looks maybe a couple of hundred years old but the ruins are much older.’
‘Sounds great. I’ll get a sandwich and buy us coffees and we can have a late alfresco lunch. Do you mind?’
‘Not at all.’ The air was still bright, the sun peeping intermittently from behind white clouds. And Felix’s smile was warming. No, I didn’t mind at all.
I waited outside ‘George’s Tuck to Go’ while Felix got his sarnie (salt beef and dill), then we ambled down to the church and wandered around a bit before we hit on a nice bench beneath a tawny sycamore.
I brushed