Page 50 of The House on Sunset Lake

‘You know Cooper will be ordering his realtor to buy some crack house in Queens by Monday,’ said Sarah, settling into a big egg-shaped love seat. ‘But I don’t know any hipsters moving into Sutphin Boulevard.’

‘I was yanking his chain a little, but if you’re prepared to take a punt, it’s not a bad call – assuming you can afford to wait for the upswing. Manhattan’s not getting any bigger, people are going to move out, especially people with young families.’

Sarah sat swishing her feet back and forth.

‘And what about you?’ she said. ‘You have any plans to move out and have a family?’

He cut his eyes across at her. Was this a variation on Melissa’s babies and wedding bells speech?

‘Sarah, I’ve only just moved to the city . . .’

She looked at him. ‘But Jim, I need to know that you’re serious about us.’

Her face was stony, then a twinkle appeared in her eyes, then she laughed her Sid James laugh.

‘You’re a devil in the sack, but don’t flatter yourself that you’re husband material. You’ve got the big four-oh coming up; isn’t it about time you bought a Harley?’

‘Isn’t thirty-nine a bit young for a mid-life crisis?’

‘Our executive editor, Ryan? One Friday lunchtime, he went out and got a tattoo of a shark. We all laughed, until the following Monday when he didn’t turn up for work. We got a postcard from him a month later saying he’d moved to the Cayman Islands and was working as a diving instructor.’

‘That’s a classic.’

‘Yeah, but Ryan was thirty-six and had a wife and two-year-old daughter. Don’t know if they got a postcard too.’

Jim laughed. ‘I’m not sure thirty-six counts as middle age,’ he said pointedly.

‘Should we go for a nosy around this place?’ said Sarah, standing up. ‘I thought I saw Karlie Kloss by the buffet. Besides, I want to take a picture of the lobster thermidor for Instagram.’

As Sarah picked up her shoes, Jim felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, but too fast, slipping in Sarah’s wet footprints. A voice he immediately recognised spoke, a hand gripping his elbow, steadying him.

‘Don’t want anyone drowning, do we?’

Embarrassed, Jim straightened and forced a smile.

‘Thanks, Connor,’ he said. ‘Not quite the way I imagined making my entrance.’

Connor Gilbert laughed. His hair was streaked with grey, he had deep lines across his forehead, but there was no mistaking him. Whereas most of his contemporaries had filled out a little since their twenties, Connor’s lineback physique had become leaner.

‘You look great,’ said Jim honestly, extending his hand and immediately regretting it: Connor Gilbert was one of those people who felt the need to crush your knuckle bones by way of a greeting.

‘Yoga and vitamins,’ Connor said off-handedly. ‘Been a long time, Jimmy,’ he added, slightly too loudly. ‘You haven’t changed a bit.’

Jim wasn’t sure he meant it as a compliment.

‘This is Sarah . . .’ he began, then suddenly remembered they were already acquainted.

‘I know this little lady,’ said Connor, reaching over to give Sarah an awkward hug. Jim knew she wouldn’t exactly be overjoyed to be referred to as a ‘little lady’, either.

‘So how’s things?’ he said. ‘Jennifer says you’re working for Simon Desai. I hear his finances ain’t what they were.’

Jim felt his anger rising.

‘Really? Well don’t believe all you hear, Connor.’

‘I thought you were going to be a rock star?’

‘Teenage kicks,’ he answered, although the music reference was lost on Connor.