‘Right.’ It’s hard to imagine how we’ll find one man in a sightseeing throng but perhaps it’ll be like Denholm Elliott standing out like a sore thumb in his panama hat in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.
‘Choc ices,’ I say. ‘Brit speak.’
‘Oh yeah. In American it’s popsicle.’
I smile and we settle into a courteous quiet, with New Order’s ‘Regret’ filling the space.
Observing Finlay’s alleged psychopathy up close is a disorientating business. I don’t sense menace, as such, but Finlay has a motive to keep me onside.
As we flit past beautiful mountains to Scotland, Fin says, apropos of nothing:
‘I appreciate you doing this. I know it’s a lot to ask. Thank you.’
‘Oh … it’s alright,’ I say, caught off guard.
‘I don’t want you to feel like we have to be adversaries, because we had a rocky start,’ he says. ‘OK for me to put the traffic news on?’ He reaches out and prods at the radio, and I nod.
I’m reassured, but I’m also spooked. What if this is a ploy? What if this is key to Finlay’s particular menace? He plays at being a nice, adjusted, kindly human being for a time, then when it suits him, rips the rug from beneath you? So when he does something whiplash-nasty, it makes you feel ridiculous for having trusted him? What if trying to get along well with Finlay Hart is like trying to walk backwards in heels on a travelator, holding a Martini? Like watering a plastic plant?
If so, Susie wouldn’t have told me this.
I remember once when Becky Fucking Villa Holiday stung Susie for the whole cost of their luxury accommodation on a girls’ weekend in Bath. Susie paid up front for the place they rented, for convoluted reasons of convenience given by Becky. Susie had been surprised to receive a thank you card from Becky afterwards saying how wonderful it was for Susie to treat her for her thirtieth, especially as she was spent up due to her forthcoming Nile cruise. I read it and snorted.
‘Translation: I have mixed in my birthday obligation with a hint of “I can’t afford to pay you anyway” to create the maximum inhibition and discouragement to ask me for the money. Hi I’m Becky Bramley, I have massive clanking balls of brass.’
Susie guffawed but stoutly defended her and insisted the agreement to go Dutch must’ve slipped her mind. I was incredulous that arch cynic Susie could be so naïve in the face of an obvious heist, and concluded she was soft on Becky. With hindsight, I can see it was more about Susie being unwilling to admit that anyone had got one over on her, than thinking the best of Becky. ‘Being taken in’ wasn’t a thing that happened to Susie, it was totally off brand.
Was the intensity with Finlay not only that he was her brother, but that at some point, she’d been utterly blindsided by him?
In what feels like not much time at all, we’re into twilight Edinburgh, car crawling along more densely populated roads, past Georgian sandstone houses with white-framed windows. The satnav is now issuing commands every thirty seconds, after its long nap on the motorway.
We inch down Princes Street and come to a halt in front of The Caledonian, a red sandstone Victorian façade with Corinthian columns, white-gloved doormen and gilt logo-ed awnings. A Union Jack and the Scottish flag hang at angles on poles, and there are neat box hedges and revolving doors.
I wait patiently for Fin to drive past it and on to the reasonably mid-priced anonymous option we’re booked in at, while the satnav intones: ‘You have reached your destination.’ Fin’s car door is opened for him by a liveried footman. As is mine.
‘This is where we’re staying?’ I say, having clambered out, as Fin hands the car keys over.
‘Yes?’ he says.
‘It’s The Waldorf,’ I say, squinting at the signage. Everything is up lit, so the edifice glows honey-yellow against the blue-black sky.
‘As in the salad, yes.’
‘But … Wow. OK.’
‘The Waldorf is where we went when we came up as kids. More my mum’s taste, to be fair, but I thought my dad might’ve homing pigeoned back here.’
‘This is a fair step up from what I’m used to,’ I say, looking back at the car, which is having luggage removed from it before being taken away to be parked, without our involvement.
‘I can book you the guest house in East Lothian where the top TripAdvisor review said there were Minion toys