Page 47

47

Anonymous Reporting on Camilla

‘It’s stale,’ I tell my brother. ‘I am really trying, but the information isn’t coming easily.’

‘What have you tried?’ he says.

We’re walking, today. London moves and sways beneath a patchwork blue-and-white sky. The sun on the water, the tourist shops and the narrow alleyways. Funny how hardly anyone knows just how much crime is carrying on all around them.

‘Been through her rubbish, even,’ I say. ‘I don’t know if she’s just an excellent secret-keeper, or what.’

‘This is taking a very long time,’ he says, and it’s the kind of blended menacing and factual statement that everyone around him fears him making. ‘If she’s in contact with him, and we miss it …’

‘I won’t miss it.’

‘How much of the time are you on her tail?’

‘As much as is possible.’

‘She have any idea?’

‘None.’