can communicate with him, but I still cannot get close.
Finally, Adam walks out of the room, through the glass maze, and opens a glass door into the reception area. His poppy sits on his jacket lapel, pretending it is an innocent icon. He winks at the receptionists as they walk past. This time they’re not just blushing because it says they must in their job description. They must think he’s flirting, but he’s not. Or rather, he is, but it’s not sexual. He flirts with everyone, makes them feel loved, gives them a promise of sharing with him. It’s up to him whether he delivers. With me, he doesn’t need the routine – I know what we mean to each other.
‘What brings you here, mate?’ he asks, shaking my hand because we are in business world. The additional touch on the elbow is a concession to our friendship.
‘They mentioned Feltham,’ I say.
‘Shh!’ Adam looks over his shoulder at the receptionist. ‘Not here,’ he whispers, turning back to me.
‘I thought everyone here knew?’ I ask.
‘Not everyone,’ he says. ‘Come with me, we’ll go somewhere private.’
He leads me through the glass labyrinth and I wonder how we can possibly be private with everyone watching us. He takes me back into the room he was in earlier, when I arrived.
‘Soundproof,’ he says
I wonder if they are also bullet proof – I imagine one shot being fired and shattering all the offices into tiny shards, people and rooms fragmenting.
‘Who mentioned Feltham?’ asks Adam. ‘HR or the police?’
He knew, then, that the police were coming?
‘HR weren’t there,’ I say. ‘It was my colleague, Prakesh. Why would the police be there?’
Adam shrugs. There is a little bit of sweat on his forehead. He takes off his jacket, so that the poppy is no longer next to his heart. I would like to pin it to his shirt, let the pin graze his naked skin, but I resist.
‘So why did Prakesh mention it?’ Adam asks.
‘Previous conduct,’ I say.
‘Did you indecently assault anyone at work?’ he asks.
‘No,’ I say. ‘Not at work.’
Adam looks at me.
‘No,’ I say again, more conclusively.
‘So it’s not relevant,’ he says. ‘And besides, it’s a spent conviction.’
I nod. ‘That’s what I told them.’
Adam flicks through some paperwork on his desk.
‘So, what else did you talk about?’ he asks, studying a bit of paper.
‘Jeremy Bond.’
Adam looks up at that.
‘What about him?’
‘Loaning cars to him without proper paperwork, who he was, all that kind of stuff.’
‘You didn’t tell them anything?’
‘No,’ I say.
Adam takes a breath. ‘Good,’ he says.
It’s nice of him, always to be so concerned about me.
He goes back to looking at his papers.
‘They’re keeping an eye on me, the police,’ I say. ‘They were at Narcissus Road. I think Nicole called them.’
Adam frowns.
‘About last night? She said she wouldn’t.’
I shake my head. ‘About Helen.’
Adam stands up and thumps the table. The people in the glass boxes nearby look up. He sits down again.
‘Mate, you’ve got it wrong. Why would Nic do that?’
‘Are you saying I’m paranoid?’
He doesn’t answer. I think about the red that followed me on the train. There was no way that could be paranoia.
‘She’s outside now, if you want,’ I say.
‘What? Where?’ asks Adam, looking around.
‘You won’t be able to see her,’ I warn him. ‘She’s hiding. Biding her time.’
‘Right.’ He nods. There is a pause. He does, he thinks I’m paranoid. ‘Well, I won’t disturb her now, but I’ll talk to her. Tell you what – we’ll go out to dinner, all three of us, start over. Lobster and champagne – our treat.’
‘Do you need me to do the kill?’ I ask.
He looks at me blankly.
‘The lobster,’ I say. ‘Do you want me to kill it for you?’
Adam laughs. ‘No, mate – the chef does that for you. Lobster halves, all nicely cut up, bit of mayo.’
‘Oh,’ I say. I thought I could
Finally, Adam walks out of the room, through the glass maze, and opens a glass door into the reception area. His poppy sits on his jacket lapel, pretending it is an innocent icon. He winks at the receptionists as they walk past. This time they’re not just blushing because it says they must in their job description. They must think he’s flirting, but he’s not. Or rather, he is, but it’s not sexual. He flirts with everyone, makes them feel loved, gives them a promise of sharing with him. It’s up to him whether he delivers. With me, he doesn’t need the routine – I know what we mean to each other.
‘What brings you here, mate?’ he asks, shaking my hand because we are in business world. The additional touch on the elbow is a concession to our friendship.
‘They mentioned Feltham,’ I say.
‘Shh!’ Adam looks over his shoulder at the receptionist. ‘Not here,’ he whispers, turning back to me.
‘I thought everyone here knew?’ I ask.
‘Not everyone,’ he says. ‘Come with me, we’ll go somewhere private.’
He leads me through the glass labyrinth and I wonder how we can possibly be private with everyone watching us. He takes me back into the room he was in earlier, when I arrived.
‘Soundproof,’ he says
I wonder if they are also bullet proof – I imagine one shot being fired and shattering all the offices into tiny shards, people and rooms fragmenting.
‘Who mentioned Feltham?’ asks Adam. ‘HR or the police?’
He knew, then, that the police were coming?
‘HR weren’t there,’ I say. ‘It was my colleague, Prakesh. Why would the police be there?’
Adam shrugs. There is a little bit of sweat on his forehead. He takes off his jacket, so that the poppy is no longer next to his heart. I would like to pin it to his shirt, let the pin graze his naked skin, but I resist.
‘So why did Prakesh mention it?’ Adam asks.
‘Previous conduct,’ I say.
‘Did you indecently assault anyone at work?’ he asks.
‘No,’ I say. ‘Not at work.’
Adam looks at me.
‘No,’ I say again, more conclusively.
‘So it’s not relevant,’ he says. ‘And besides, it’s a spent conviction.’
I nod. ‘That’s what I told them.’
Adam flicks through some paperwork on his desk.
‘So, what else did you talk about?’ he asks, studying a bit of paper.
‘Jeremy Bond.’
Adam looks up at that.
‘What about him?’
‘Loaning cars to him without proper paperwork, who he was, all that kind of stuff.’
‘You didn’t tell them anything?’
‘No,’ I say.
Adam takes a breath. ‘Good,’ he says.
It’s nice of him, always to be so concerned about me.
He goes back to looking at his papers.
‘They’re keeping an eye on me, the police,’ I say. ‘They were at Narcissus Road. I think Nicole called them.’
Adam frowns.
‘About last night? She said she wouldn’t.’
I shake my head. ‘About Helen.’
Adam stands up and thumps the table. The people in the glass boxes nearby look up. He sits down again.
‘Mate, you’ve got it wrong. Why would Nic do that?’
‘Are you saying I’m paranoid?’
He doesn’t answer. I think about the red that followed me on the train. There was no way that could be paranoia.
‘She’s outside now, if you want,’ I say.
‘What? Where?’ asks Adam, looking around.
‘You won’t be able to see her,’ I warn him. ‘She’s hiding. Biding her time.’
‘Right.’ He nods. There is a pause. He does, he thinks I’m paranoid. ‘Well, I won’t disturb her now, but I’ll talk to her. Tell you what – we’ll go out to dinner, all three of us, start over. Lobster and champagne – our treat.’
‘Do you need me to do the kill?’ I ask.
He looks at me blankly.
‘The lobster,’ I say. ‘Do you want me to kill it for you?’
Adam laughs. ‘No, mate – the chef does that for you. Lobster halves, all nicely cut up, bit of mayo.’
‘Oh,’ I say. I thought I could
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