Page 27 of The Love Letter

All he had to do was grovel to Zoe. And he’d mean it, too.

After leaving his sister to simmer down for a couple of days, Marcus decided to call unannounced at Welbeck Street on Friday evening. Bunch of roses in hand – the last ones left at the corner shop – he rang the bell.

Zoe answered it almost immediately. Her face fell when she saw him.

‘What are you doing here?’

He stared at his sister’s subtly made-up face, her freshly washed blonde hair shining like a halo. She was wearing a royal-blue velvet dress that matched her eyes and revealed rather a lot of leg.

‘Blimey, Zo, expecting company?’

‘Yes . . . no . . . I mean, I have to go out in ten minutes.’

‘Okay, this won’t take long, I promise. Can I come in?’

She seemed agitated. ‘Sorry, but this really isn’t a good time.’

‘I understand. I’ll say what I need to here. I was a total pig to you the other night and I am truly, truly sorry. I’m not excusing myself, but I was very drunk. Over the past two days I’ve done some serious thinking. And realised that I’ve taken my anger and frustration at myself out on you. I promise I won’t do it again. I’m going to get my act together – stop drinking. I’ve got to, haven’t I?’

‘Yes, you have,’ Zoe replied distractedly.

‘I’ve seen the error of my ways and I’d love to take over the memorial fund if you’ll still let me. It’s a great opportunity, and now I’ve calmed down, I can see how generous it is of you and Dad to trust me with it. Here.’ He thrust the flowers into her hands. ‘These are for you.’

‘Thanks.’

Marcus watched as her eyes darted up and down the street. ‘So, do you forgive me?’

‘Yes, yes, of course I do.’

Marcus was staggered. He’d planned on a night of seriousmea culpa-ing while Zoe extracted her rightful pound of flesh.

‘Thanks, Zoe. I swear I won’t let you down.’

‘Fine.’ Zoe surreptitiously glanced down at her watch. ‘Look, can we discuss this another time?’

‘As long as you actually believe I’m going to change. Shall I come over next week to discuss it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay. Do you have that folder handy by any chance? I thought I could take it home and study it over the weekend, think up some ideas.’

‘Okay.’ Zoe flew inside, took the folder out of James’s desk and ran back to the front door. ‘There.’

‘Thanks, Zo. I won’t forget this. I’ll call you tomorrow to make a date.’

‘Yes. Night.’

The door was shut hurriedly in his face. Marcus whistled in relief, amazed at how easy it had been. He walked off along the road humming, as the first few flakes of snow began to descend on the streets of London.

‘Evening, Warburton. Do sit down.’ Lawrence Jenkins, Simon’s boss, indicated a chair placed in front of his desk. He was slim and dapper, dressed in an immaculate Savile Row suit, and wore a different coloured paisley bow tie for every day of the week. Today it was bright red. He had a natural air of authority, indicating he had been in the job for a long time, and wasn’t someone to be easily crossed. His customary black coffee was steaming gently in front of him.

‘Now, it seems you might be able to help us with a little problem that’s come up.’

‘I’ll do my best, as always, sir,’ Simon replied.

‘Good chap. I hear your girlfriend had a bit of bother the other night at her flat? Apparently it was ransacked.’

‘Not my girlfriend, sir, but a very close friend.’