Page 42 of The Love Letter
‘That this is big.’
‘And how do you intend to progress from here?’
‘I need to speak to the Harrison family, learn what I can about Sir James’s life. It may be as simple as James having an affair with Rose. But why would she sendmethat letter? I don’t know.’ Joanna sighed. ‘If my flat was turned over because they thought I’d got it, then surely it’s quite a big deal to someone.’
‘Yeah. Look, I can’t give you company time to investigate this—’
‘I could do a profile on a British theatrical dynasty,’ she cut in. ‘Starting with Sir James, and Charles, his son, then looking at Zoe and Marcus. I’d have the perfect excuse to get as much information out of them as possible.’
‘Bit light for the news desk, Jo.’
‘It wouldn’t be if I discovered some kind of huge scandal. A few days,please, Alec,’ she begged. ‘I’ll do any extra research in my own time, I swear.’
‘Go on then,’ Alec capitulated. ‘On one condition.’
‘What?’
‘I want to be kept informed every step of the way. Not because I can’t keep my big red nose out of it, but for your own protection.’ He looked at her hard. ‘You’re young and inexperienced. I don’t want you getting yourself in so deep you can’t get out. No heroics, okay?’
‘I promise. Thanks, Alec. I’m off then. See you tomorrow.’ Impulsively, Joanna kissed him on the cheek and left the bar.
Alec watched Joanna leave. Nine times out of ten when a cub reporter came to him with a ‘great’ lead, he’d shoot it down in flames within a few seconds, send them away with their tail between their legs. But just now, his famous gut had twitched like billy-oh. She was on to something. Christ knew what, but it was something.
Even Marcus had been surprised at how quickly Joanna had called him after their lunch. She’d claimed her editor wanted some kind of feature on the entire Harrison family to back up the memorial fund piece, but he was hoping his charm had swayed her too. He had, of course, complied with her request to visit him at his flat the following evening. In honour of her visit, he’d spent the day clearing the detritus of his disorganised, bachelor existence. He’d swept what lurked under his bed straight into a bin bag and even changed the sheets. Then he’d pulled his thickest books out from where they had been propping up a chair with a leg missing, and displayed them prominently on the coffee table. It was a long time since a woman’s imminent presence had stirred something in him other than simple lust. Joanna had been one of the few people who had actuallylistenedwhen he had talked about his film project, and now he was determined to convince her that there was more to him than most people gave him credit for.
The bell rang at half past seven. He opened the door and saw Joanna had made very little effort to dress up and was still in her work clothes of jeans and a jumper. He felt a twinge of disappointment.
He kissed her on both cheeks, deliberately lingering. ‘Joanna. Lovely to see you again. Come in.’
She followed Marcus along the narrow corridor and into a small and basically furnished sitting room. She’d expected something much more luxurious.
‘Wine?’
‘Er, I’d prefer a cup of coffee, if you wouldn’t mind,’ Joanna replied. She felt exhausted. She’d been up most of the previous night making notes on the biographies and a list of questions about Sir James.
‘Spoilsport,’ grinned Marcus. ‘Well, I’m going to have a drink, anyway.’
‘Oh, all right then. Just a small glass.’
Marcus came back into the sitting room with a whisky for him and a full glass of wine for her, and sat down very close to her on the sofa. As she turned her head away, he gently tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. ‘Been a long day then, Jo?’
Joanna could feel the heat of his thigh next to hers, and edged away from him. She had to concentrate. ‘Yes, it has.’
‘Well, you just relax. Hungry? I have some pasta that I could knock together for us.’
‘No, please don’t go to any trouble.’ She set up her tape recorder and placed it on the coffee table in front of them.
‘It’s no trouble at all, really.’
‘Could we get started and see how we go?’
‘Of course, whatever you want.’
She noticed the musky scent of his aftershave, the cute way his hair curled on his collar . . .No, No, No, Joanna!
‘Right, as I told you on the phone, I’m going to be writing a big retrospective on Sir James and your family to back up the launch of the memorial fund.’
‘Wow. I’m truly grateful, Jo, I really am. The more publicity, the better.’
