Page 117 of The Last Love Song
An awkward silence hung in the air. ‘We were...well behaved, weren’t we?’ Con asked.
Lulu raised an eyebrow. ‘Why, don’t you remember?’
Con shook his head. ‘Nothing beyond the restaurant.’
Lulu gave Con a fox-like grin. ‘Well, Con Daly. I am offended.’
Con put his head in his hands. ‘Jesus, please tell me we didn’t...’ Lulu shrugged and gave a giggle.
The doorbell buzzed again. ‘Shit. Please,pleasestay up here. I’ll come and fetch you when Helen’s gone.’
Lulu nodded, turned over and closed her eyes. Con opened the bedroom door and hurried downstairs to open the front door.
‘Morning, Helen.’
She was as immaculate as always in a cream cotton midi-dress and matching jacket, her make-up impeccable. She scanned him from head to toe.
‘Heavy night, was it? You look dreadful.’
‘I feel it. Come in.’
‘Thanks. Did I wake you?’
‘You did. My alarm clock’s in Ballymore.’
‘You mean Sorcha?’ Helen’s brow furrowed as she followed Con through to the kitchen. ‘Why has she gone?’
‘Her daddy died a couple of days ago. She went home for the funeral.’
Helen paused for a moment. ‘I see. That’s a shame.’
‘Is it?’ Con opened the fridge and took out a bottle of milk.
‘Yes. Seamus O’Donovan handled my estate in Ballymore. He did a good job with it too. It means I’ll have to get someone else to look after it now. Or maybe the time has come to sell it,’ she mused. ‘Anyway, can we make some coffee?’
‘To be sure.’ Con swigged milk from the bottle, padded overto the kettle and switched it on. Helen put her briefcase down on the table and pulled out a chair.
‘Where’s Todd?’
‘How do you mean? At home, I’d say.’
‘Well, his car’s parked in your drive. I presume the reason you’re looking so rough is that the two of you had a session last night.’
Con continued to spoon coffee and sugar into two mugs. ‘We did,’ Con lied. ‘He was too drunk to drive so he took a taxi home.’
‘Oh.’ Helen stared at the jacket hanging over the back of the chair next to her. ‘That’s Lulu’s combat jacket, isn’t it?’
‘She was around with Todd yesterday and she forgot to take it. It was warm last night.’ Con brought the two cups of coffee to the table and sat down opposite Helen. ‘So what is it that has brought you out here so early on a Friday morning?’
‘Well.’ Helen took a sip of her coffee. ‘I wanted to tell you that Metropolitan are going to employ a couple of bodyguards as from tomorrow. DI Cross suggested we should. They’ll be with you twenty-four hours a day.’
‘Will they be sleeping on a mat outside my bedroom door?’
‘Con, this is no laughing matter. Scotland Yard are taking it very seriously. Although I hate to say it, you’ve probably brought this on yourself. All the gabbing to the press about your views on certain political situations definitely won’t have helped you. I suggest you button up that mouth of yours from now on.’
‘Christ, I feel like a feckin’ schoolboy! Yours is the third lecture I’ve received in the past twenty-four hours.’ Con took a slug of his coffee. ‘Not on a hangover, please, Helen.’
‘I’m sorry, Con. It’s only because we care about you.’
