Page 17 of The Last Kiss Goodbye

Abby shrugged. ‘She didn’t reply, so I suppose not.’

‘Or maybe she’s just not very good at RSVPing. Come on. Let’s go and look for her.’ He touched the small of her back, and she flinched nervously.

‘I should go and mingle,’ she said, stepping back as politely as she could.

‘Come and mingle with me,’ said Elliot with a half-smile. ‘If Rosamund Bailey is here, then it’s a brilliant human interest story.’

Abby paused, then nodded. Stephen had stressed the importance of getting as much press coverage as possible. ‘Press coverage means awareness. Awareness means sales. Sales mean a future for the Institute,’ he had impressed in a team pep talk before the start of the show.

She was about to suggest asking Lauren if Rosamund Bailey had been ticked off on the guest list when she looked towards the gallery door and saw an elegant and well-preserved woman arriving. She was smartly dressed in a grey dress and a beige mac. There was a string of chunky beads around her neck and low-heeled court shoes on her feet. Her brown highlighted hair was tucked neatly behind her ears. Shaking her umbrella, she left it in the corner of the room and handed her invitation to Lauren.

‘That’s her,’ Abby hissed. ‘I found a clip of her appearing on Newsnight.’

‘Then what are we waiting for?’ Elliot replied, making a move to go over.

‘No, just wait a minute,’ she said, touching his arm.

They watched Rosamund start to circle the room. She moved slowly but gracefully, pausing to take out a pair of glasses, which she put on before she began to inspect the photographs. Abby and Elliot watched her without speaking. Rosamund took great interest in each and every picture, but she looked increasingly anxious as she came closer and closer to where they were standing.

At last she stopped in front of the picture of herself and Dominic, and Abby felt her own breath freeze. She thought she heard Rosamund sigh. It was the tiniest sound, barely audible against a backdrop of laughter and clinking glasses. Then she bowed her head and Abby watched her eyes momentarily close.

‘The Dominic Blake expedition,’ said Elliot smoothly, taking a step forward.

Abby watched him, not sure how it was possible for one person to possess such natural confidence. She knew it would have taken her five minutes to pluck up the courage to speak to Rosamund.

‘One of the great sixties explorers,’ he added knowledgeably.

‘Really,’ said Rosamund, unable to tear her eyes away from the photo.

‘I think this single image says everything you need to know about this exhibition. Adventure, heroism, love.’

She turned to him, and Abby saw that her eyes were glistening.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Elliot with concern.

Rosamund blinked away her emotion and her mouth creased into a small smile.

‘I’m fine. It’s just that I’m the woman in the photograph.’

Abby knew that she couldn’t just stand there like a lemon.

‘Miss Bailey? I’m Abby Gordon from the RCI. I sent you the invitation.’

Rosamund extended her hand.

‘Thank you for thinking of me. How on earth did you track me down?’

Abby smiled, not wanting to admit to the subterfuge. The Bystander magazine, the internet trawl, the electoral roll search.

‘Champagne?’ she asked, deflecting Rosamund’s question by taking a glass from a passing waiter and handing it to her.

‘It’s an excellent show,’ said Rosamund, gesturing around the room. ‘You’ve included the Clayton expedition. Such a tragedy,’ she said pointing to a group of men at the bottom of a picture. ‘Three people died on that one. And they barely got a look at the summit.’

Abby was surprised. She had chosen the image because it was a little-known expedition, a failure by most standards but one that held an interesting story: Captain Archie Clayton, the climb’s leader, had sacrificed a clear run at the summit when one of his Sherpas had become sick. He had immediately taken the decision to carry the ailing man down, making him a laughing stock on his return to England. Few people knew enough about mountaineering to be able to identify the expedition from one shot.

‘You know your stuff.’

‘I loved a man who loved exploration,’ Rosamund said simply.