If you are ever in the neighborhood, you know you can always stop by. There is a little matter I’d like to raise with you—quite exciting, actually—but as I say, no hurry.
Yours ever,
Dad
As I get to the end I feel a bit shocked. I know this guy is a stranger and this is none of my business. But honestly. You’d think he could reply to his own father’s phone messages. How hard is it to spare half an hour for a chat? And his dad sounds so sweet and humble. Poor old man, having to email his own son’s PA. I feel like replying to him myself. I feel like visiting him, in his little cottage.21
Anyway. Whatever. Not my life. I press
“When exactly did Sir Nicholas Murray text Violet?” he says abruptly.
“Er … ” I peer at the phone. “About four hours ago.” The first few words of the text are displayed on the screen, so there’s no great harm in clicking on it and reading the rest, is there? Not that it’s very interesting.
Violet, please ask Sam to call me. His phone is switched off. Best, Nicholas.
“Shit.
I open my mouth automatically to say, “What about your dad? Why don’t you ever ring
“Ooh, there was a phone message earlier,” I say, suddenly remembering. “About liposuction or something, I think. That wasn’t for you?”
He doesn’t need to sound so scoffing. I was only asking. It must have been for Violet. Not that she’s likely to need liposuction, if she’s off modeling.
“So … we’re on? We have a deal?”
For a while he doesn’t reply, and I have an image of him glowering at his cell phone. I don’t exactly get the feeling he’s relishing this arrangement. But then, what choice does he have?
“I’ll get the PA email address transferred back to my inbox,” he says grouchily, almost to himself. “I’ll speak to the tech guys tomorrow. But the texts will keep coming to you. If I miss any of them—”
“You won’t! Look, I know this isn’t ideal,” I say, trying to mollify him. “And I’m sorry. But I’m really desperate. All the hotel staff have this number … all the cleaners … it’s my only hope. Just for a couple of days. And I promise I’ll send every single message on. Brownie’s honor.”
“Brownie’s what?” He sounds mystified.
“Honor! Brownie Guides? Like Scouts? You hold up one hand and you make the sign and you swear an oath … Hang on, I’ll show you… .” I disconnect the phone.
There’s a sheet of grimy mirror opposite me on the bus. I pose in front of it, holding the phone in one hand, making the Brownie sign with the other, and wearing my best “I’m a sane person’ smile. I take a picture and text it at once to
Five seconds later a text message pings back.
I could send this to the police and have you arrested.
I feel a little whoosh of relief.
I really, really appreciate it, I text back. Thx
But there’s no reply.
7
8 Which I think you can.
9 I’ve never been quite sure what that means.
10 Maybe not a pervert, then.
11 OK, not just like Beyonce. Like me imitating Beyonce.
12 Not books with plots, by the way. Books with footnotes. Books about
13 I wonder if they all take fish oil. I must remember to ask.
14 Don’t ask me. I listened really carefully and I still couldn’t work out how they disagreed. I don’t think the presenter could follow either.
15 Magnus said afterward he was joking. But it didn’t
16 I’ve never even read any Proust. I don’t know why I had to bring him up.
17 I know. I’ve
18 Not ponytail long, which would be gross. Just on the long side.
19 I don’t think Annalise’s ever forgiven me. In her head, if she hadn’t switched appointments,
20 You see? It’s all about the footnotes.
