was that they were unable to have children – for biological reasons – and he didn’t want to bring up such a sensitive subject.
‘Has Kirsty got the week off too?’ Brian asked.
‘No. She’s at work. I get more leave than her.’
‘Lucky you.’
Jamie was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘The reason I came up – apart from to see if your computer was alright – was to ask if you have a forwarding address or telephone number for the couple that used to live in our flat.’
Linda shook her head. ‘Letitia and David? No, we don’t.’
‘I seem to recall they moved out in a real hurry. We didn’t know about it until after they’d gone.’ Brian removed his reading glasses. ‘Mary was closer to them than us. She might have an address for them.’
‘She’s not in.’
‘I just heard her front door close,’ said Brian.
‘Really?’
Jamie thanked them and went back down the stairs. This time, Mary answered her door straight away.
‘Jamie! Hi!’
Despite her enthusiastic greeting, she looked like she had a cold. Ginger obviously hadn’t worked for her. He knew he ought to enquire after her health, but he wanted to get straight to the point and ask her his all-important question.
‘Come in,’ she said, before he could open his mouth. ‘I was just making a tea. Do you drink herbal tea?’
He was going to be asking a favour. It would only be polite to say yes, even though he thought herbal tea was revolting. ‘Yes, that would be lovely.’
He followed her into the flat, looking around for Lennon. ‘Is Lennon here?’ he asked.
‘No. He’s out and about somewhere.’ She took two floral-patterned mugs down from the cupboard.
She chattered away about the cat while she made the tea. Camomile. Jamie tried not to grimace when she handed it to him.
‘You know the people who used to live in our flat?’
‘Letitia and David?’
‘Yes. I don’t suppose you have a forwarding address for them? Or a telephone number? It’s just that some mail has come for them and it looks quite important.’
Mary looked at him as if she were trying to see inside his mind, to ascertain if he was telling the truth. He blinked innocently.
‘Yes, I have got their address,’ she said. ‘Postal address, not an email unfortunately.’
His heart leapt.
‘I was forwarding their mail to them. I’ll forward the mail you’ve got as well, if you want.’
‘No! I mean, no, it’s OK. I’ll do it.’
She studied him for a long moment, then said, ‘Alright.’
She picked up her address book – decorated with a picture of a fat white cat – and copied the address onto a piece of card. She handed it to Jamie.
‘Scotland?’
‘Yes. Quite a remote village, as far as I’m aware. They told me they wanted to get as far away from London and people as possible.’
That sounded very much like evidence to Jamie. Wanting to get away from people. Isn’t that exactly what you’d want to do if you’d had a bad experience with your neighbours? He sometimes fantasised about it: living in the remote countryside, among sheep and chickens, no people nearby to cause you grief. Except he was determined not to be driven out of his home. He was not a quitter.
‘Thank you for this,’ he said, holding up the scrap of card.
Before he left, Mary gently caught hold of his arm. She looked into his eyes. ‘You’re not in any kind of trouble are you, Jamie?’
‘No. What makes you ask that?’
‘You just seem a bit stressed out.’
‘No. Everything’s fine. Just got married. Baby on the way. We couldn’t be happier.’
She clearly didn’t believe him, but she didn’t push it. Instead she said, ‘If you ever need any help, Jamie, you know where I am.’ She squeezed his arm.
He hurried down the stairs.
He dialled directory enquiries and tried to get a telephone number for the address Mary had given him. The operator told him the number was ex-directory. He wasn’t exactly surprised. He Googled Letitia Pica too, but despite it being an unusual name, nothing showed up.
Okay. If he couldn’t call or email them he would have to write them a letter. He found some writing paper – the same paper they had used to write to Lucy and Chris – and sat on the sofa with a cushion on his lap.
Dear Letitia and David
Firstly, let me introduce myself. My name is Jamie Knight. My wife, Kirsty, and I bought your flat from you earlier this year. I will not beat around the bush. We have