Girl A(73)

We looked back to the window. There were a few bodies left in the next office along. There was a certain comfort in that; in the City, somebody was always having a worse night than I was.

‘I used to play this game,’ I said, ‘with my sister. What would you do with a million pounds? Am I allowed to ask you what you have in mind?’

He laughed. ‘And the rest,’ he said.

‘I didn’t want to be impolite.’

‘I’ll build a house,’ he said. ‘There’s a particular kind of house that I’ve had in mind, since I was a child. Very different from the house where I grew up. Isn’t everybody’s answer some variation on that?’

‘Well, we were children. I wanted a library. She wanted a convertible.’

‘She’ll have change.’ He was quiet for a moment. ‘I have no doubt,’ he said, ‘that you’ll get your library.’

We shook hands at the lifts, on his way down. The adrenaline was seeping out of me. I could sense myself becoming smaller and flatter.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I just thought – did you ever do it? Your ChromoClick results?’

I laughed. ‘No,’ I said.

‘Let me tell you a secret,’ he said. His lift was here, and between the closing doors, he said: ‘Me neither.’

I walked past the empty offices to my desk. There was a message waiting for me from Devlin: ‘Give me a call when you can,’ she said. She had sent an email, too, which said: I left you a voicemail.

‘Congratulations,’ she said, as soon as she picked up the phone.

‘Thanks. This was a good one.’

‘You were excellent. Everyone’s happy. There’ll be a dinner in New York.’

‘Just what I wanted to hear.’

‘Not for a while. Jake’s flying out. Some of the other partners. I hope that you’ll be back here by then.’

‘I’m nearly there. There’s just one last thing to do. And my sister’s flying in to help out over the weekend. It’ll be easier, once she’s here.’

‘Good. Take a few days. There’s a lot in the pipeline, but nothing this week.’

‘I’m happy to talk about it now.’

‘Well, I’m not. Go home, Lex.’

I began to order a taxi, then changed my mind. I had spent every hour of daylight in the office for twelve days now, and most of the night-time hours, too. I kicked off my loafers. I would walk.

I passed through the dark lobby and out into the City. The nights had become colder. The wind skimmed across empty pavements and between gaps in the grand, dark buildings. I walked along the walls of the Bank of England, past its pompous columns and the sculptures labouring above its doors. From his horse, Wellington presided over the late traffic. I walked past the old trade halls on Cheapside and through St Paul’s churchyard, beneath the glowing grey dome. I recalled the promise which the City had held when I had first arrived in it, as hopeful as I had ever been, discharged by Dr K and falling in love. It was hard to subdue the memory of the feeling, which wasn’t so different from the feeling itself. The place still held a few modest hopes. I hoped to complete this deal or that. I hoped to keep Devlin happy. I hoped that I made enough money so that I would never concern myself with paying for breakfast, or a pack of tampons. I passed Millennium Bridge and the cloistered quads around Temple. JP might still be at work, hunched in the dark of a labyrinthine chambers; there had once been an infestation of moths in his office, who had left holes in his gown and wig. At Aldwych I turned north, back towards lands of the living. As he did each evening, the doorman at the Romilly greeted me, and wished me goodnight.

I left London early on Thursday morning. There were still foxes sniffing the rubbish bags in Soho, and the sun wasn’t up. I drove straight through to Leicester and ate breakfast on the embankment at a service station, watching the traffic beginning to clot. A message from Bill to confirm my appointment the next day. A lorry driver stopped beside me to finish his coffee; he asked where I was headed. ‘I’d get a wriggle on,’ he said, ‘if I was you.’ I had seven hours before I needed to collect Evie from the airport and drive on to Hollowfield, but I intended to make another stop on my way. ‘Thanks,’ I said, and he waved. I returned to my porridge.

I waited for the traffic to clear, and continued on to Sheffield and into the Peak District. We had been scattered so far apart, when you thought of it: there was no reason to our whereabouts other than people’s willingness to take us. It had been one of the reasons that the proposed meetings between us had rarely taken place. The terms of Noah’s adoption meant that he would never be able to attend them; Evie was hesitant, and preferred our long phone conversations, or to visit me alone; Ethan had secured his place at university and lost interest in the reality of us: strange children, gathered in a room designed by a committee. The Coulson-Brownes had always brought Gabriel along – I expected that they were watching for some new nugget of horror to feed to the press – and Delilah had come reluctantly, chewing gum and distracted by a new gadget, right up until our final argument. I couldn’t recall a meeting after that one. Dr K had advised that it was for the best, and it wasn’t like I had missed them.

At Cragforth Cricket Club, I pulled onto the grass and pushed my sunglasses up my nose. As soon as I stood from the car I saw that an old man, all in white, was walking towards me. He held a stick in one hand and a bucket in the other, and for an impossible moment I believed that I had been caught; the whole town had been awaiting my eventual arrival and would guard Noah however they saw fit.