This Could Change Everything(45)

‘No need. Already done.’ He waggled the Nikon playfully. ‘While you were engrossed in your phone.’

Scarlett’s delight turned to dismay. ‘But that’s not fair! I look horrible!’

‘You don’t look horrible at all.’

‘Show me.’

She came to stand beside him and Conor brought the two photos up on the screen so she could see them. Scarlett wailed. ‘Oh God, I look like a moose! And my nose is all red.’

‘It’s not red, it’s pink. Which makes sense, seeing as you’re surrounded by snow.’ It drove him nuts when people were so critical of their own appearance. ‘See the contrast of you on your phone with the abbey behind you? Those colours are great and the composition works really well.’

‘But I could look so much better. Seriously. Let me just put on a bit of lipstick and we’ll do it again.’

‘No.’ Conor shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t be the same. You’ll do that thing with your mouth. Can I put one of these up in the Red House?’

‘No way,’ yelped Scarlett.

‘Fine.’ He deleted them both. ‘There, gone.’

‘Did anyone ever tell you how annoying you are?’

Conor smiled. ‘Only neurotic narcissists find me annoying. What are you doing here anyway?’

‘Waiting for my group to turn up. They’re due to meet me here in five minutes.’ Opening her compact, Scarlett deftly toned down her nose, then applied over-bright fuchsia-pink lipstick, smacked her lips together and blew him an ironic kiss. ‘A family of ten from New York have booked a two-hour city tour.’

He knew from Essie that Scarlett worked as a guide for visiting tourists. She also ran a stall at the vintage market on Sundays, selling artwork and jewellery, and spent a couple of afternoons a week doing something else over in Bristol. He indicated her shiny emperor-purple hair and said, ‘What’s your natural colour?’

‘Who knows? Who cares? I like to dye it. And my tourists appreciate it.’ She nodded and waved at a cluster of people who were hesitantly approaching her. ‘Means they don’t lose me in crowded places.’

‘Is that them? I’ll leave you to do your thing,’ said Conor.

‘Sure you don’t want to take a nice photo of me before you go?’ She was teasing him but also kind of meaning it; his previous refusals clearly still rankled.

Conor said good-naturedly, ‘Maybe one day.’

From a distance, he stood and watched as Scarlett greeted her charges cheerfully, then led them off in the direction of Pulteney Bridge, gesticulating as she addressed them along the way.

He turned and headed back past the Roman Baths, turning left down Stall Street. His attention was caught by an old man standing beside a wall, clutching the remains of a takeaway burger. He was carefully shredding the bun and throwing the crumbs onto the snow in front of him, and birds were flying down to grab them in their beaks. What the man didn’t know was that on the wall just behind him a black cat was crouched, light green eyes gleaming and tail slowly swishing . . .

Reaching for his camera, Conor said, ‘Hello, sir, would you mind if I take a photo of you?’

‘Yes I would mind,’ said the elderly man. ‘Very much. Bugger off.’

Right.

Conor hid a smile. Fair enough; some people didn’t want to cooperate and that was entirely their decision. He turned away, his gaze skimming over the snowy street populated by shoppers and workers, as well as visitors who’d travelled from all over the world in order to experience the magical city of Bath . . .

That was when he saw her.

What?

It couldn’t possibly be her, though. He knew that.

But it was.

She wasn’t dead. She was here.





Chapter 21


Conor felt the blood thundering through his body as his brain attempted to process something that made no sense. It was like finding yourself dropped into the middle of a movie with no warning at all.

Oh, but this wasn’t a movie, it was real life. And a medical miracle had clearly occurred. Because she looked so well.

It had been four years, but Conor had never forgotten Jessica Brown. How could he? She’d had a huge impact on his life. Unwittingly she’d shone a light on his chosen career and shown him just how unsuited to it he was. The day he’d met Jessica and heard her heartbreaking story was the day he’d had his showdown with his old boss Margaret Kale and left the company. The following morning, realising that he’d also left Jessica in an awkward situation, he’d emailed Margaret and instructed her to retain any money she owed him in order to settle Jessica Brown’s account.

And that had been that.

Until now.

The next moment, as if suddenly realising she was being stared at, Jessica Brown turned and looked in his direction. Their eyes met and Conor felt his stomach disappear.

‘What the hell?’ yelled the old man as the cat launched itself from the high wall and the birds flew up into the air in a panicky cloud. The cat leapt after the slowest of them and missed, the bird let out a triumphant squawk and the man dropped his burger on the ground, whereupon it was promptly seized by the cat.

‘Bloody thing, get yourself out of here.’ He flapped his arms furiously at the cat. ‘Go on, sod off.’ Then, noticing a group of children pointing and laughing, he snarled, ‘And you lot can clear off too.’