Page 100 of Butterfly

Rory sighed. “If you’re not back by nine…”

“I know, curfew and all that. I’ll be back.”

“You’d better be,” Rory replied before hanging up.

Ollie climbed into the car while Pichard rushed to the other side.

“So where are we going?” Pichard asked, bringing up the car’s sat nav.

Ollie typed in the postcode.

Pichard studied him. “Oliver Linton, right?”

“Yeah, how did you—”

“Never forget a name or a face or a blood type.” He snorted. “You’re O negative, by the way.”

“Am I?”

Pichard smiled. “You ran into a gate if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah.” Ollie touched his nose. “No break.”

“No break,” Pichard repeated. “Then there was the incident with Keith.”

Ollie swallowed hard.

“What brings you back to Hollybrook?” Pichard asked.

“I just wanted to see it.”

It was a weak reason, but Pichard ran with it. “Must be nice seeing it from the outside rather than from the inside. It seems so much smaller.”

Ollie flicked his gaze up to the mirror. Hollybrook faded behind them.

“Did you treat anyone from F-wing today?”

“As it happens.” Pichard smirked. “Ian Sterling had quite a gruesome ingrown toenail.”

“Teddy,” Ollie whispered. “Have you treated him recently?”

Pichard’s brow furrowed. “No, not Teddy.”

“Oh…”

“That’s a good thing.” Pichard chuckled. “When people come to see me, it’s not for a social call.”

“Of course.” Ollie shook his head. “Holiday?”

“Fourteen days in the Maldives with my husband.”

“Husband?” Ollie asked. He glanced at Pichard’s ring finger, and sure enough, a silver band sparkled with diamonds. “Congratulations.”

Pichard smiled. “Thank you, but we’ve been married a while. I don’t wear my ring when I’m working in case an inmate takes a shine to it…or in case it ends up somewhere I really wish it didn’t. I’ve been with Callum for six years, married for four.”

“Callum?”

Pichard hummed. “He’s a graphic designer… Our apartment looks like a Renaissance painting.”

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