Page 86 of The Dead Ex

He shrugs. ‘Suit yourself.’ His eyes become even colder. ‘Is it true you used to be aprison guv?’

I ignore the question. Instead, I remind him that I’ll need my meds soon.

‘You’ll get them when they do their rounds.’

‘Don’t cause any trouble,’ my solicitor had warned. ‘It won’t help at the trial.’ So I nod and take out the picture which they’ve allowed me to keep and place it gently on the table. Then I try to breathe calmly. I wasn’t allowed – unsurprisingly – to bring inmy lavender essence or any of the other oils that might calm me down. I’ve had to leave those behind in the flat. Including the equipment that I use to make my own special combinations.

A loudspeaker announces that lockdown is about to take place. Immediately, there’s a click, indicating that the door has been electronically secured.

That’s when I finally let myself cry. I cry for David because,despite everything, I really don’t want him to be dead. I cry for Tanya, even though part of me still hates her. But there’s one person I can’t cry for. It hurts too much.

30

Helen

Talk about a posh restaurant! Some of the women are in long, backless dresses, making my short skirt look like a serviette. The men, like David, are in striped shirts and chinos. Waiters are bobbing and bowing all around us. But the best bit is the view, looking out towards all the buildings along the Embankment.

I’m itching to take a picture but instead I feel bound, out of politeness,to read the menu. ‘When I say I’m vegetarian,’ I say, ‘it means I usually eat baked beans for dinner.’

‘I remember those days.’

‘Really?’

‘Why do you look surprised?’

‘Because you seem like a man who has been used to luxury all his life.’

He gives a half-laugh. ‘I come from a tough background. My dad was a labourer till he joined the army. I had a spell in the forces myself for a few years,but shooting people wasn’t for me. So I went back to Civvy Street. Tell me, how old are you?’

I am pretty sure he’s pretending not to know. ‘Didn’t you read my CV?’

‘No. Not the first or the second. You rather put me onthe spot, if you remember, by telling me that I’d ignored your email in front of that journalist.’

‘At least you’re honest.’

‘Only sometimes.’ His eyes go hard again. ‘I suspectthat you’re the same, Helen.’

I don’t know what to say. Luckily, the waiter comes to take our order.

David senses my hesitation. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but would you like me to choose for you? I don’t know why they have to use such fancy descriptions. No one knows what they mean – they just pretend to.’

Usually I’d have taken offence at this. But he says it in such a gentlemanly way,blaming the menu rather than my own inadequacy, that I agree.

While we wait, he makes small talk. It’s very different from that terse conversation in the office about the picture on his desk. ‘So, what got you interested in photography in the first place?’ he asks, topping up my glass.

That was easy. ‘An art teacher at school.’ I smile at the memory. ‘I was hopeless at anything academic so Iused to skive in the art block. I wasn’t that good at drawing or painting but then Miss Hughes joined. She’d actually had stuff published in a magazine. I was so overawed.’

He is smiling as if he understands.

‘Then I found that taking photographs helped me get into another world.’

David nods. ‘And maybe disguise your shyness?’

‘You said I asked too many questions before.’

‘That’s a sign ofshyness too. You create a veneer to disguise what you see as failings. It’s all right, Helen. I getit. A lot of people are the same. I find it rather endearing, actually.’ He takes a sip from his glass. ‘Now I’m going to ask the same question you put to me earlier. What do you like doing in your spare time?’

‘Walking. I love London. There’s so much to see and photograph.’