Page 60 of The Love Letter
As she walked, she tried to keep her gait natural, and resisted the urge to constantly look behind her. She kept her bundle of keys in her fist, the sharp edges poking out from between her knuckles, just in case of an attack.
As the bus trundled along Shaftesbury Avenue towards Soho, Joanna mused on the evening ahead. And hated herself for being so excited at the prospect of seeing Marcus again. She’d also spent the last few days pondering whether she should take Marcus into her confidence and tell him what she had discovered about his grandfather. She’d had to make the painful decision not to trust Simon, and had done her best to assign him to the ‘enemy camp’ – even though she didn’t know who this ‘enemy’ actually was. Given her demotion, she’d had to take Alec out of the equation too. As the bus pulled to a stop near Lexington Street, Joanna alighted, deciding she could really do with an ally. Marcus was waiting for her in Andrew Edmunds – a rustic but charming candlelit restaurant.
‘How are you?’ He kissed her warmly on the lips.
‘Fine, I’m fine.’ She slid into the chair opposite him.
‘You look fabulous, Jo. Love the dress.’ Marcus’s eyes travelled up and down her body. ‘Glass of champagne?’
‘Go on then, you’ve forced me into it. Is it a special occasion?’
‘Of course. We’re having dinner together. That’s special enough for me. Good week?’
‘Terrible, actually. Apart from the fact I’ve been demoted at work, my new bed still hasn’t arrived.’
‘Poor you. I thought you were staying with a friend until it did?’
‘I was, but it got a bit . . . crowded. Simon came back and the flat’s too small for both of us.’
‘Try and jump you, did he?’
‘God, no!’ Joanna pushed down a smidgen of guilt. ‘He’s my oldest friend. We’ve known each other for years. Anyway –’ she took a deep breath – ‘it’s a long story, vaguely connected with your family, actually. I’ll tell you over supper.’
Once they had ordered food and wine, Marcus looked at her quizzically across the table.
‘Go on then.’
‘Go on what?’
‘Tell me all about it.’
Joanna looked at him, suddenly uncertain. ‘I don’t know whether I should.’
‘That big a deal?’
‘That’s the thing, I don’t know. It may be something or nothing.’
He reached across the table and took hold of her hand. ‘Joanna, I swear it won’t go further than me. Strikes me that you need to talk to someone about it.’
‘You’re right. I do. But I’m warning you, it’s bizarre and complicated. Okay.’ She took a slurp of the very good red wine to give her confidence. ‘It all started when I turned up at your grandfather’s memorial service . . .’
It took the starter, main course and most of the dessert before Joanna had brought Marcus up to date on ‘Little-Old-Lady-Gate’, as she had nicknamed the situation. She decided not to tell him about the anonymous men on her trail, somehow afraid to voice the full reality of what she thought was happening.
At the end of her story, he lit a cigarette and slowly blew out the smoke, gazing at her steadily. ‘So that whole piece about me and the memorial fund was a cover-up so you could procure information about my grandfather and his dodgy past?’
‘Originally, yes,’ Joanna admitted. ‘Sorry, Marcus. Although of course the article is going to be used in the paper.’
‘I admit to feeling just a little used, Jo. Tell me honestly, are you having dinner with me tonight to see what else you can extract, or did you actually want to see me?’
‘I wanted to see you, promise.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘So, apart from the other thing, you do like me?’ he probed.
‘Yes, Marcus, of course I do.’
