“What makes you think that?”
“I don't know. Intuition?” Kristin shrugged. “Coupled with serious insecurity, I guess.”
“Then spend the night with her. Make things right.”
“If only it was that easy.”
“Tell me about it. Takes work, right?”
“What are you saying?”
Alice looked away. “Nothing. Saying nothing at all.”
“You’re right. I’ll call her.”
Alice nodded. “She’s probably worried about you.”
“She better be. Although she hasn't called yet.”
“That works both ways.”
“You’ve got Ian. He’s a good guy. And we all deserve someone good.”
“Deserve doesn’t matter...” She paused for a moment. “I guess most of us end up with who we settle for, not who we deserve.”
“You and Ian got problems too?”
Alice laughed. “Everybody’s got problems. It’s normal.”
Kristin frowned. “Jesus, Alice. That’s like, dismal. Never mind cynical.”
“Yeah, well. I’ve more to worry about than Ian.”
“Then I’ll stay with you.”
“No. Fix things with Olivia. The four of us can celebrate tomorrow instead.”
“I suppose. Then let’s go downstairs. Ian might wonder what we’re doing.”
“I doubt he’s too bothered.” She got to her feet and walked towards the bedroom door. She stopped and looked to Kristin. “You ever feel you’re just hanging on?”
“How do you mean? In life?”
Alice shook her head. “Forget it. I’ll survive. I always do.”
“You sure you don’t want me to stay?”
“Ian will understand if I snipe at him.” Alice cocked her head at Kristin. “You mightn’t.”
“Give me some credit. This situation would unsettle anybody. If you weren't, I’d think there was something wrong with you.”
“You mean I’m human after all?”
Kristin raised an eyebrow. “Not sure I’d go that far...” Then she laughed, just in case Alice didn’t get it.
“This will blow over soon. No need to worry.” She squeezed Kristin’s hand. “Let’s go.”
11
As she walked down the stairs, Alice mulled over what she should say to the police. She had nothing to hide, therefore she had nothing to worry about. The fact she knew the terrorist was a coincidence, nothing more. Lots of people knew him. Everybody on the production crew would have known him too. The more she thought about it, the more she realised why Samir had chosen Thurloe Place.
When she entered the kitchen with Kristin, Ian turned from the TV. “You okay?”
Alice nodded. “Yes. It’s just, you know...”
Ian stood and went to her. “It’s okay. I understand.”
“Let’s do this after I say goodbye to Kris.”
Kristin gave Ian a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Good luck. And mind her, okay?”
“Don't worry,” Ian said. “She’s in good hands.”
Alice took Kristin by the arm. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”
At the front door, they embraced for several moments, as if each was reluctant to break the hug, until Alice disentangled herself. “Go on, Kris. Go to Olivia.”
“Call me later, okay? Let me know how it goes.”
Back in the kitchen, Ian filled a glass with wine and handed it to her. “Here. This might help,” he said.
“Thanks.” She put her arm around him and pulled him close. “I had a moment earlier. Sorry. It’s not your fault.”
“Don't worry. You’re forgiven.” He had the grace to smile. “The phone?”
“Give me a moment.”
They watched the TV in silence for several minutes. Footage of the scene played, then the channel re-ran an abridged version of the interview with Lewis Cole. Alice shook her head at his words ‘...A blonde girl drinking champagne...’
She took a sip of wine, then another. “This is weird.” She pointed at the screen. “I mean, that’s me they’re talking about. Me. Like I’m some kind of terrorist. Worse, they’re calling me the champagne terrorist. What bullshit.”
“It’s got all the elements of a great story. You know, a catchy soundbite, a Twitter trend, a developing meme.”
“We need to stop it.”
Ian clicked his tongue. “It’s too late.”
“Thanks for that.”
“Just telling it as it is. I say you call the police.” He pushed over a scrap of paper to her. “This is the number they gave to call. Then ‘twere well it were done quickly and all that.”
“Huh?”
“Macbeth.”
“Jesus Ian. Now?”
“Sorry.”
“I get the impression you're enjoying this... this drama, aren't you?” Alice shook her head and pursed her lips.
“No.” Ian pulled at his ear as he brought the glass to his mouth. “Not at all.”
She grunted and picked up the note with the telephone number. She studied it for a while, but nothing altered the fact she had to make the call. Despite telling herself there was no rational reason to fear the police, she felt her pulse quicken and when she looked at the note, she saw it trembled in her hand. “What do I say?”
Ian set down his glass and came closer. “Tell them the truth.”
“Should we get a lawyer?”
“No need. You’re a witness, not a suspect.” He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “I know it’s scary, but you’ll be fine.”
Alice nodded, then she tapped the number into her mobile and took a deep breath before she hit the call icon.
“South Kensington Information Line. Who is calling?”
“My name is Alice Madsen. I’m the woman they were talking about on TV, outside the Provence Wine Bar. I spoke, er, said hello to the terrorist. I knew him.”
“Hold on while I transfer you.”
After a short pause, a crabby voice asked, “This is DS Barry Gilmore. Your name, please?”
“Alice Madsen.”
“Thank you. Now, Alice, tell me why you’re calling?”
12
Kristin paused outside Olivia’s apartment block in Putney. She considered using the key but decided on the intercom. As she pressed the bell, she wondered whether Olivia would ask for the key back.
“Hello?”
“Uh, hi. It’s me.”
The buzzer sounded, and as Kristin took
