details.
“Are you a buyer?”
The soft, feminine voice comes from behind me. I turn to find myself eye to eye with a petite woman, her long dark hair caught up in a loose swirl on the top of her head. She is wearing a bright fuchsia cocktail dress and a navy jacket, which she is removing as she speaks to me. I haven’t seen her before now, so I assume she has just arrived. She’s very chic and stylish. My own more sober-coloured outfit that I had considered smart and understated now just appears dowdy beside hers. The new arrival is smiling at me though, and it would be rude not to be pleasant back.
“Oh, no. I would if I could afford them, but I’m just looking this evening.” True enough, I suppose.
“Me too, though we do have several of Jared’s pictures on the walls at home.”
“Oh, you’re a collector then? And a fan of Jared North?”
She laughs at that. “Among other things, I suppose I am a fan. Tonight I’m just his taxi driver though, come to pick him up and drive him home.” She extends her hand to me. “I’m Rachel North.”
I take the offered hand and shake it. I’m in a daze. Rachel North. Drive Jared home. Christ, I’m here talking to his bloody wife!
“Have you seen him anywhere? We should be getting off really…” She cranes her neck to peer around the room.
“Er, in the long gallery, I think. He was talking to some people…”
“Ah, well, that sounds about right. Always talking, that’s Jared… Would you excuse me, I need to—” She breaks off. “Oh, there he is. Jared? Jared!”
He has just emerged from the gallery next door and turns to face us as my companion calls out to him. He lifts a hand, waves, then glances at me. Our eyes meet, and I could swear there’s flicker of recognition, then it’s gone. His features betray nothing more as he crosses the room to reach us. He bends to kiss Rachel on the cheek.
“Thank you for coming. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“You’d better. You’re on washing up duty for a week. And you can do the school run too.” She turns to me. “It was nice meeting you, Miss…?”
“It’s Mrs. Mrs. Mary Whitkirk. It was nice meeting you too. And you, Mr. North.” I’m backing away, desperately working to avoid eye contact. As if a wife lurking in the wings wasn’t terminal enough, he has children too, and a school run to do. I just want to get out of here and I know I’m acting like a total muppet, but I can’t help it. Rachel furrows her perfect brow in puzzlement, but makes no more of it. Linking her arm through Jared’s, she tugs him in the direction of the door. I take my chance and do a quick sideways shuffle, then dive into the ladies’ toilets.
When I emerge fifteen minutes later, it is to find the exhibition near enough deserted. A few stragglers are conducting their final bits of business with the gallery. Jared and his wife are long gone. Satisfied that the coast’s clear I head for the door.
“Mrs. Whitkirk, do you have a moment?”
I halt and look around. The gallery owner is hurrying toward me.
“I’m glad I caught you, Jared North asked me to give you this.” He thrusts a card into my hand then turns on his heel and scuttles back to his waiting customer.
I glance at the card, one of Jared’s from the front desk. I turn it over. There’s a mobile number scrawled on the back, and three words.
Molly? Call me.
I won’t, of course. I can’t, not now. Not after all this time.
Back in the safety of my anonymous hotel room I try to remember what I knew of Jared North when he was Prisoner Number KG8329. Was he married back then? I don’t recall any visitors, and no mention of it on his file. Surely I would have spotted that. If I’d known I would never have… I couldn’t have…
But I did, and the consequences were awesome. They still are.
He saw me. He recognised me, and he wants to talk. He must want to, he gave me his number. And I need to talk to him. There are things I
“Are you a buyer?”
The soft, feminine voice comes from behind me. I turn to find myself eye to eye with a petite woman, her long dark hair caught up in a loose swirl on the top of her head. She is wearing a bright fuchsia cocktail dress and a navy jacket, which she is removing as she speaks to me. I haven’t seen her before now, so I assume she has just arrived. She’s very chic and stylish. My own more sober-coloured outfit that I had considered smart and understated now just appears dowdy beside hers. The new arrival is smiling at me though, and it would be rude not to be pleasant back.
“Oh, no. I would if I could afford them, but I’m just looking this evening.” True enough, I suppose.
“Me too, though we do have several of Jared’s pictures on the walls at home.”
“Oh, you’re a collector then? And a fan of Jared North?”
She laughs at that. “Among other things, I suppose I am a fan. Tonight I’m just his taxi driver though, come to pick him up and drive him home.” She extends her hand to me. “I’m Rachel North.”
I take the offered hand and shake it. I’m in a daze. Rachel North. Drive Jared home. Christ, I’m here talking to his bloody wife!
“Have you seen him anywhere? We should be getting off really…” She cranes her neck to peer around the room.
“Er, in the long gallery, I think. He was talking to some people…”
“Ah, well, that sounds about right. Always talking, that’s Jared… Would you excuse me, I need to—” She breaks off. “Oh, there he is. Jared? Jared!”
He has just emerged from the gallery next door and turns to face us as my companion calls out to him. He lifts a hand, waves, then glances at me. Our eyes meet, and I could swear there’s flicker of recognition, then it’s gone. His features betray nothing more as he crosses the room to reach us. He bends to kiss Rachel on the cheek.
“Thank you for coming. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“You’d better. You’re on washing up duty for a week. And you can do the school run too.” She turns to me. “It was nice meeting you, Miss…?”
“It’s Mrs. Mrs. Mary Whitkirk. It was nice meeting you too. And you, Mr. North.” I’m backing away, desperately working to avoid eye contact. As if a wife lurking in the wings wasn’t terminal enough, he has children too, and a school run to do. I just want to get out of here and I know I’m acting like a total muppet, but I can’t help it. Rachel furrows her perfect brow in puzzlement, but makes no more of it. Linking her arm through Jared’s, she tugs him in the direction of the door. I take my chance and do a quick sideways shuffle, then dive into the ladies’ toilets.
When I emerge fifteen minutes later, it is to find the exhibition near enough deserted. A few stragglers are conducting their final bits of business with the gallery. Jared and his wife are long gone. Satisfied that the coast’s clear I head for the door.
“Mrs. Whitkirk, do you have a moment?”
I halt and look around. The gallery owner is hurrying toward me.
“I’m glad I caught you, Jared North asked me to give you this.” He thrusts a card into my hand then turns on his heel and scuttles back to his waiting customer.
I glance at the card, one of Jared’s from the front desk. I turn it over. There’s a mobile number scrawled on the back, and three words.
Molly? Call me.
I won’t, of course. I can’t, not now. Not after all this time.
Back in the safety of my anonymous hotel room I try to remember what I knew of Jared North when he was Prisoner Number KG8329. Was he married back then? I don’t recall any visitors, and no mention of it on his file. Surely I would have spotted that. If I’d known I would never have… I couldn’t have…
But I did, and the consequences were awesome. They still are.
He saw me. He recognised me, and he wants to talk. He must want to, he gave me his number. And I need to talk to him. There are things I
Similar Books
