from the cold.
‘Do you remember Tom?’ she said to Brock, who looked up in surprise.
‘Oh, yes, of course. How are you, Tom?’
‘Great. Congratulations, sir. Fantastic result.’
His enthusiasm was genuine, Kathy saw, probably enhanced by wonder at Brock’s durability.
‘What will you have to drink?’
‘Let me,’ Brock said, and went over to the bar.
‘You must be exhausted,’ Tom said to Kathy, scrutinising her face as if for signs of damage.‘Are you hungry?’
‘Ravenous. Is this our date, then?’
He nodded.
‘Well, I should warn you, I spent last night lying on a pavement and I didn’t get much sleep. I may just flake out.’
‘That’s fine, but I warn you, that excuse only works once,’ he said, and Kathy laughed, suddenly happy to be alive.
Brock returned, catching the flush on Kathy’s cheek. ‘Well, don’t think me rude,’he said,‘but I’ll be pushing off. Have a good night.’
He picked up the brown paper parcel and made for the door, looking forward to a long bath and a warm bed, and, in the morning, hanging a second picture on his living room wall, next to the Schwitters. It was a present from a little girl now reunited with her grandparents, against whom, Brock felt confident, Virginia Ashe would shortly agree to drop further proceedings.
