Page 59 of The Last Kiss Goodbye

He put a Bloody Mary in front of her, and for a second she just looked at it.

‘Go on, drink up. Hair of the dog is the best thing for you.’

‘I never believed that line.’

‘Trust me, I’m a journalist.’

The room fell silent.

‘So what else can’t I remember?’

‘Well, my dad was rather taken with you.’

‘I hope you don’t mean in a sexual way.’

‘So do I. But he liked you.’

He caught her gaze again and held it. ‘I’m surprised he spilt the beans like that. About Rosamund Bailey.’

Abby sipped her drink slowly. She had never been much of a fan of Bloody Marys – she’d always thought it was like drinking cold soup – but this was a good one. Her stomach was objecting, but she kept swallowing until the glass was empty.

‘You know, I think that’s why I got so drunk,’ she said finally.

‘Don’t say my dad tried it on with you. His last secretary left the company because she said he pinched her bum. He swears it was just his cufflink that caught her, but it’s gone legal.’

‘No, not your dad,’ said Abby softly. ‘What he said about Rosamund. Being a spy.’

Elliot went over to the hob and started frying some bacon.

‘It’s not a stretch of the imagination, though, is it?’ he said, looking over his shoulder. ‘Have you read her columns? She’s pretty left-wing.’

‘But not a commie. Or a spy.’

‘Dad didn’t know for sure. I pumped him for info when you were sofa-surfing and he said Clive Desmond would know more about it. It pained him to admit he didn’t actually know much.’

‘Who’s Clive Desmond?’

‘Editor of the Chronicle in the sixties. He only lives in Kew. I think we should go and see him.’

Abby let her silence register her disapproval.

‘Abby, this is the gig. If we want to find out what happened to Dominic, then we might have to dig up things that aren’t exactly palatable about him and the people around him.’

She agreed he had a point, even though she hated thinking anything bad about Rosamund. She had found the older woman both smart and inspiring on the two occasions they had met. She didn’t want to be disappointed by another person in her life.

‘You should probably get in touch with him then, if only to prove that your dad was talking whisky-fuelled nonsense.’

‘Already have,’ replied Elliot, sipping his black coffee. ‘I called him this morning. Says we can pop over at midday if it suits us.’

‘Us?’

‘Come on, Abby. Next best hangover cure after a Bloody Mary is a brisk walk.’

‘Elliot, I’ve got three-inch heels on.’

He walked over to the kitchen door and picked up a battered pair of green Hunter wellies.

‘Sandra’s,’ he said. ‘But I’m sure she won’t mind you borrowing them for a while. I’ll get you one of my jumpers as well. You can put it over your party dress.’ He winked. ‘That is, unless you want people to know you stayed over.’