“Not literally. I don’t believe you're in any real danger.”
“You’re not on the receiving end.”
Rix raised his arms. “Apologies, Alice. I don’t mean to trivialise it.”
“While I don't want to give in to them, I don't feel safe here. I’m going home to Copenhagen for a few days. Perhaps it will all have blown over by the time I get back.”
*
Alice leaned into Ian in the back of the taxi. She closed her eyes to the world and found solace in the diesel thrum. They said nothing to each other until Ian opened their front door on Portobello Close.
Despite it being less than 24 hours since her arrest, relief at setting foot in her hall flooded through Alice. “You don't know how good it is to be home.”
Ian held out his arms. “Come here. Let me hold you.”
They hugged in the hall until Alice broke off. “I need to scrub that place off me, and I’m of a mind to burn these clothes.”
“Go ahead. You want me to make you a latte?”
“Is too early for something else?”
He laughed. “I suppose we could agree on extenuating circumstances. Anyway, it will be six by the time you shower and change.”
She smiled at him. “Thanks.” She squeezed his hand and hurried up to the bedroom. Inside, she felt her shoulders relax, and she peeled off all her clothes. Not only were they filthy, they would always be a reminder of her time in custody, so she tossed them by the rubbish bin.
When she got into the shower, she stood beneath the torrent for a good ten minutes. She scrubbed herself hard, reddening her skin before realising the pointlessness of the pain and she gave up. She leaned against the tiles and put her head down. The water swirled at her feet, washing away the sweat and grime of the cell in Kensington police station.
Alone in the cubicle, relieved to have no prying eyes or hidden cameras, her back shook as sobs threatened to overcome her. She took a deep breath. Then another. It took several minutes, but the shakes eased.
She took her time to dress and make herself up. When she finished, she smiled at her reflection, but it wasn't convincing, and her forced smile soon faded, leaving a despondent stare in its place.
Ian turned to her in the kitchen as she walked in, and he jerked his head up when he saw her. “You look amazing. Looks like a different person came down those stairs.”
“Not sure I feel it.”
“Don't worry. You will.” He poured a glass of wine and handed it to her. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to forget all about the police, Samir Hassan, social media, trolls, terrorists, news bulletins, headlines. Anything to do with the attack.”
“Okay. But first...” He opened a drawer and pulled out a can.
“What’s that?”
“Pepper spray. You should keep it in your bag.”
“Why would I need it?”
He shrugged. “You know. In case...”
She took the can from him and turned it around in her hand. “It’s illegal isn't it? Where did you get it?”
“Let’s just say a friend of an acquaintance knows someone.”
“This scares me. Makes me think things are worse than they are.”
“It’s a precaution. Peace of mind.” He eased back onto the stool and picked up his glass.
“I don't know.” She examined the can for another moment then put it into her bag. “Look, I need to get away from all this. I was thinking of going to see Connie for a few days, and you’ll be at that conference in Frankfurt anyway.”
“Be happy to cancel that, it’s four full days of tedium. I wouldn't leave you alone after all that’s happened.”
She sat on a stool and put her hand on his leg. “Thanks. But I’d like to go. I was thinking of going on Tuesday, and I’d come back next Monday. It means you’ll have Saturday and Sunday to yourself. Will you be lonely?”
“I’ll stay in. Watch TV. I’ll be fine”
She took a sip of wine. “I’ll miss you though.”
“Me too.”
“We need to put time into finding a new house.”
“I spoke to Dad. He said they’d give us more than enough for a deposit.”
“Won't be as nice as this will it?”
“Not unless we move outside the area.”
She shrugged. “I like it here.”
“I’ll ring Mark Flanagan…”
“Who?”
“The estate agent. Paul’s son. I’ll ask him to send on property details before I go.”
“Good.” She clinked her glass against Ian’s. “Tonight it’s just us. No Twitter, no news, no more house. Okay?”
“Deal. Do you want to call Kristin?”
She let out a long sigh. “Yes. I should. Then it’s just us.”
“You and me against the world, huh?”
“I guess.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Don't worry. The worst is over. The social media crap will ruin out of energy and soon you’ll be starting work on the new show. Then you’ll be having such a blast, you won’t have time to wonder what the fuss was all about.”
30
On Monday morning, Ian made Alice breakfast and brought it up to her while she lay in bed. She murmured her thanks with sleepy eyes as he kissed her goodbye. It was after 11 by the time he arrived at work in Martins, Flanagan and Coppell. He took the lift to the 6th floor of the Lloyd’s building in Lime Street, where he made his way to his office.
No sooner had he powered on his computer and logged in, he caught a movement through the window to the open plan area. Paul Flanagan made his way through the lines of desks and angled straight toward Ian’s office. Paul opened the door without knocking and leaned against the frame.
