Page 184 of The Love Letter

‘Okay, I’ll take a light and an orange juice, please,’ she heard the voice say to the bartender as, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man climb onto the bar stool next to hers.

‘Want a top-up?’

‘I . . .’

The quintessentially English phrase made her turn to her neighbour. He was tanned to a deep nut-brown, wearing a pair of brightly coloured shorts, a T-shirt and a straw hat pulled down over his long dark hair. It was only when she saw his eyes – the deep tan highlighting their blueness – that she recognised him.

‘Don’t I know you?’ He grinned at her. ‘Aren’t you Maggie Cunningham? Think we spent a year at NYU together way back when.’

‘I . . .’ Joanna stuttered, her heart banging against her chest. Was this some kind of weird hallucination brought on by the tequila? Or a test from Simon to see if she’d blow it? Yet, he had called her ‘Maggie’ . . .

Joanna knew she was staring at him open-mouthed, wanting to drink in everything her eyes were telling her she saw, but . . .

‘I’ll get you one anyway.’ He signalled to the bartender to fill her glass up. ‘Then how about we go and catch up on old times?’

As she followed him out of the café, she decided it was best to keep her mouth shut, because this just could not . . . itcould notbe real.

As he led her to a quiet table on the rickety wooden terrace, she noticed he walked with a pronounced limp. She sat down abruptly.

‘Who are you?’ she muttered darkly.

‘You know who I am, Maggie,’ he said, in his familiar clipped English. ‘Cheers.’ He lifted his glass to hers.

‘I . . . How did you get here?’

‘Same way you did, I reckon. My name’s Casper by the way – your very own friendly ghost.’ He looked at her and grinned. ‘And I’m not kidding.’

‘Oh my God,’ she breathed, as one of her hands unconsciously reached out to touch him, needing to confirm he was real.

‘And my surname’s “James”. Thought it was fitting. I’m lucky – I got to choose my name myself, unlike you.’

‘How? Where? Why . . . ? Marcus, I thought you were—’

‘Dead, yes. And please, call me Casper,’ he muttered. ‘As you know, walls tend to have ears. To be fair, they thought Iwasgoing to cop it – I had multiple organ failure and I was in a coma for a time after the surgery. And then, when I actually regained consciousness, they’d already announced my death to the family and the media.’

‘Why did they do that?’

‘I’ve worked out since, it was probably because they didn’t know how much I knew, so they carted me off to some private hospital and put me under twenty-four-hour surveillance. They couldn’t take the risk of me waking up and spilling the beans to a doctor or nurse who happened to be lurking nearby at the time. Given they obviously wanted it to look like a straightforward shooting accident – no questions asked – and that they were convinced I was going to die anyway, they pre-empted my demise. So when I actually woke up and my body began functioning again, they had a bit of a problem.’

‘I’m amazed they didn’t kill you off once and for all,’ Joanna murmured. ‘That’s what they usually do.’

‘I think your mate Simon – or should I say, my long-lost distant cousin –’ Marcus raised an eyebrow – ‘had quite a bit to do with it. He told me later that he’d mentioned to his superiors that I’d grabbed the letter from Ian Simpson and hidden it somewhere before we fell into the water. Which was why the bastard shot me. So they had to keep me alive for a bit when I did wake up to find out if I had. See?’

‘Simon covered for you . . .’

‘He did. And then he gave me the letter – or what was left of it – to return to them. And told me to say that I knew nothing – that Ian Simpson had simply given me some money to find it. Next thing I know, Simon’s telling me I’m officially dead and asking me what I’d like to be called in my new life.’

‘Did you refuse?’

‘Maggie,’ Marcus sighed, ‘you’ll probably call me a coward again, but those people . . . wow, they’ll stop at nothing. I’d just come back from the dead and I wasn’t particularly keen on returning any time soon.’

‘You’re not a coward, Marcus . . . I mean, Casper.’ She reached out a tentative hand and put it on his. ‘You saved my life that night.’

‘And I’m sure Simon saved mine. He’s a seriously good guy, though I’ve still no idea what the hell was going on. Maybe one day you’ll enlighten me.’ Marcus lit up a cigarette and Joanna saw that his left hand shook continuously.

‘Maybe I will.’

‘So,’ he smiled, ‘here I am.’