Page 55 of The Love Letter
She’d never even paused to consider whether Simon’s offer might be anything other than genuine. Yet he’d been so insistent he take it, now she thought about it. And what exactly did hedoas a ‘civil servant’? This was a man who’d got a first at Cambridge, with a big brain that was hardly likely to be utilised processing parking tickets. And he was a man with convenient ‘mates’ in a forensics lab . . .
‘Damn!’
Joanna heard the sound of footsteps up the stairs. She stuffed the card and the pen into her rucksack and jumped onto the sofa.
‘Hi, how are you?’ Simon came in, put down his holdall and walked over to kiss the top of her head.
‘Fine, yes, fine.’ She feigned a yawn and uncurled her legs from under her. ‘I must have dozed off. I had a few drinks at the pub after work.’
‘It was that good a day?’
‘Yeah. That good. How was your trip?’
‘A lot of boring presentations to sit through.’ Simon went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. ‘Want a cuppa?’
‘Go on then. Oh, by the way,’ Joanna added casually, ‘there was a message from someone called Ian for you on the answering machine when I got home. He wants you to ring him back.’
‘Sure.’ Simon made two cups of tea then sat down next to her. ‘So, how’ve you been?’
‘Okay. My flat’s almost back to normal and I’ve filled in all the insurance forms and everything’s being processed. My new bed is arriving tomorrow and the computer guy is coming to set everything up. So I’ll ship out of here now you’re back.’
‘Take your time. There’s no rush.’
‘I know, but I think I’d like to get home.’
‘Of course.’ Simon took a sip of his tea. ‘So, any more progress on strange little old ladies and their correspondence?’
‘No. I told you I wasn’t going to pursue it, unless your forensic friend came up with anything.’ She glanced at him. ‘Did he?’
‘Nothing, I’m afraid. I popped into the office on the way home and there was a note on my desk from my mate. Apparently the paper was too delicate to be properly analysed.’
‘Oh well,’ she said as casually as she could. ‘Do you have the letter? I’d like to keep it anyway.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t. It disintegrated during the chemical process. My mate did say he thought it was over seventy years old. Sorry about that, Jo.’
‘Never mind. It was probably of no importance anyway. Thanks for trying, Simon.’
Joanna was proud of her control, when all she really wanted to do was to rugby-tackle him to the ground and punch his lights out for his betrayal.
‘That’s okay.’ He was staring at her, his surprise at her calm exterior obvious on his face.
‘Besides, now it seems like I have more pressing problems of my own to attend to, rather than flying off on some wild goose chase. My beloved editor has decided – for reasons best known to himself – to transfer me from the news desk onto Pets and Gardens. So, I have to focus on how to make my stay there as short as possible.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Didn’t he give you a reason?’
‘Nope. Anyway, at least I don’t have to doorstep any more, just wander round the Chelsea Flower Show in a floaty dress and a pair of white gloves.’ She gave him a sad shrug.
‘You seem to be taking it very well. I would have thought you’d be fuming.’
‘What’s the point? And as I said, tonight I’ve had a few gins to take away the pain. You should have heard me in the pub earlier. Anyway, if you don’t mind, I’ll take a shower and then hit the sack. The shock’s worn me out.’
‘You poor old thing, you. Don’t worry, one day you’ll be the Ed and can get your own back,’ Simon comforted her.
‘Maybe.’ Joanna stood up to head for the bathroom. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Yes, night, Jo.’ Simon kissed her on the cheek, then once he heard the shower turn on, he went into his bedroom and shut the door. He took out his mobile phone and dialled a number.
‘Simon here, Ian. Thought I told you not to leave messages on my home phone – Haslam’s staying here.’
