down?’ she ventured. If nothing else, Jasper’s presence meant this would stay civil.
He hesitated and she could see the conflict in him – to go, to stay, to help, to turn away . . . ‘Thanks.’ He pulled out a chair – scaring off a pigeon that was strutting between its legs – and sat opposite them, warming his hands around his travel cup. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, the tips of his fingers blanched white by contrast. Their eyes alighted and flitted off each other like the sparrows on the empty tables, both aware that the conversation they needed to have wasn’t suitable for a young audience.
Jasper was staring at their unexpected guest with guileless scrutiny and Lee knew his little brain was trying to place him, this newly met man with the familiar eyes.
‘Hey Jazz, why don’t you do some colouring in the new book we bought?’ And she reached into her bag and pulled out the animals colouring-in book and pencils.
‘Which one shall I do?’ Jasper asked, happily distractable as he began flicking through the pages. The tiger? The elephant? The parrot? The butterfly?
‘How about the parrot?’ she said. ‘Seeing as we just saw the parakeets.’
‘Okay. But I’m going to make them rainbow colours.’
‘Good idea,’ she agreed, watching as he got out all the pencils and began shading between the lines.
Lee sat back in her seat, looking over at Sam watching them. ‘Thank you for coming,’ she said quietly.
Sam half nodded, half shrugged, his eyes darting from her to her son and back again, as though he wasn’t sure what – or how much – to say. He cleared his throat. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about what you . . . showed me.’
‘Yes.’ It had troubled her own sleep last night, marbling her usual nightmares with a fresh strand of intrigue.
‘Have you shown it to anyone else?’ he asked.
‘No. Not yet.’
His finger tapped against the cup. ‘Do you have any idea who wrote it?’
‘No.’
‘Where did you find it?’
‘In my bike basket, last week. I forgot all about it till yesterday when I found it round the back of the sofa.’
‘So, it was just a random drop in your basket?’
‘No, I don’t think so. It’s got a number in the top corner, suggesting it was part of your publicity campaign, but there was a flyer for my new exhibition in with it. I think whoever left it was showing they wanted me to find it. To help them.’
‘So why not just ask you for help then? Isn’t it . . . complicated, leaving it in your basket like that? Anyone could have taken it.’
‘I know.’ She shrugged. ‘I can’t explain it.’
‘They obviously didn’t feel like they could talk to you directly.’
She flinched at the barb in his words. ‘No, obviously not.’
‘Unless it’s just a coincidence the flyer was in the book too. I mean, how would they have known they were leaving it in your bike basket? There are a lot of bikes in Amsterdam.’
‘Well, I guess they must know where I live. Or they know me well enough to recognize my bike.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I always put these gold streamers on the handlebars now, for Jasper, so he can recognize our bike easily.’
Sam’s eyebrows shrugged, a sign of acceptance that gold streamers certainly made the bike distinctive. ‘Maybe this person is a victim of domestic violence then, and they’ve somehow . . . found out where you live.’
‘Maybe,’ she agreed, but she suppressed a shudder of fear at the thought. Security and privacy were one and the same to her. ‘But I don’t think so. I’m careful about my personal details staying out of the public domain.’
He didn’t reply, but the sudden arch to his eyebrow was a clear contradiction and she knew what he was thinking – she had given him, a complete stranger, her address in the hospital toilet, hadn’t she?
She looked away quickly. ‘But it might not be a domestic violence issue, we can’t assume anything. This person might need help in other ways.’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know – drug addiction? Gambling debts? A toxic boyfriend? A stalker?’
A young woman edged past their table, holding up a laden tray. Sam glanced up at her, then back at Lee again. ‘And what if it is something like that? A stalker. Drugs. Should you really be chasing this stranger down and getting involved? It could be dangerous.’
‘Well, luckily I’ve got previous with that.’ She hadn’t meant the response to come back as