‘I thought you wanted an apartment? Something you could lock up and leave since you travel so much?’ Mr Chan sounded flustered.
‘Well, I thought so too, but I’ve been thinking. I could do with a private secretary. Well, not a secretary, more an organiser. I know I have a team around me, but I definitely need a number one.’ She smiled at Alex. ‘My life is very busy, you know.’
Alex nodded. She was often in Paris or London or at a party in New York.
‘I’ve got a friend from school in mind. She could have the upstairs. I’d have the downstairs.’
Alex shook his head. Jessica buying a house from the judge? It felt too close for comfort. He saw from the deep frown lines crisscrossing Mr Chan’s forehead that he felt the same. Alex decided to leave it to Mr Chan to sort out—he had started it and his grandchildren listened to him.
‘So, he took you around?’ said Alex. He was surprised, but looking at Jessica, he saw what the judge had seen. It would be hard to resist her.
‘Oh yes. We spent about fifteen minutes with him. Very charming man.’ She looked at the two of them hovering and recalled the one unsettling moment when she had first seen the man’s eyes. ‘Well, apart from being a—whatever he is. And then,’ she rushed on, ‘it was such a lovely day he showed us the path to the beach. I wanted to check it out in case I do go ahead. It’s not much of a beach, but on a sunny day, very pretty, and with the tide low this morning, we could scramble over the rocks for quite a way.’
Alex felt a chill run down his spine and turn into ice-cold dread. ‘Can you show me where you went?’ he found himself asking.
‘Sure,’ said Jessica, taking out her phone, pulling up a map of the city. ‘I went from the bottom of George Street here where your man has his house, along the beach, over the rocks about here and up this road I think. Yes, I came up there and back along the main road. A square. It’s a very charming part of town.’
Alex watched as Jessica’s perfect rose-pink fingernail traced a path along the beach, up the road where Rose lived and turned back. He gasped.
Jessica looked up. ‘You alright, Alex?’
He forced a smile. ‘I’m fine.’
‘It was a lovely little walk, quite easy, except for climbing over the rocks.’ She wiggled her left foot. ‘See, I scratched this sandal quite badly. Shame, I bought them from a market in Rome.
Ah well.’
* Rose looked out the window at a picture-perfect day. The predicted afternoon showers hadn’t materialised. The sun shone bright in a clear blue sky. The first real taste of summer. Rose made herself a Pimm’s—a summer drink, an English drink, a silly afternoon drink. She poured it into a water bottle, added a squeeze of lemon, a couple of ice cubes and walked down the pathway leading to the beach. It would never be a sandy white shore, but today she could forget it was inner-harbour mud flat. The sun made it sparkle with a warm welcome.
Her children were studying. Sam at the university library and Katie locked in her room, emerging only for food and drink. Rose knew she was lucky with her children, both keen to learn and study, but the truth was she was lonely. Sitting on the sand, sipping her Pimm’s, she forced herself to think about her life. Her future.
The teaching year was over, and once the exams were finished her children would be off for the summer. Sam and a group of friends had bought an old van and were determined to drive from surf beach to surf beach. They were going to live off baked beans and sleep on the sand. Or so he said. A pilgrimage. A rite of passage. Katie was flying to Scotland to join one of her old
school friends.
Rose had nothing planned for the holidays or the next few years. She’d been offered more marine labs next semester, and she’d accepted. But sooner or later she’d have to sort herself out. She dreaded the thought of the holidays alone in the house, a few short weeks but long enough to show her the future. Silence and loneliness, unless, somehow she picked herself up and got on with living. It would be easy not to bother, to sink into the mire of sadness, her companion these past three years.
Rose finished her drink, lay down and turned her face towards the sun, soaking in the warmth. She closed her eyes and decided to try and forget her worries. There was always tomorrow, a whole three months of tomorrows, before she would be back at work. Plenty of time to find some courage to face life again.
She was drifting off to sleep when she heard a soft bark and opened her eyes to find a pair of bright eyes peering at her.
‘Oh, you little sweetie,’ she said taking in the tiny, white, furry face, delicate pointed ears and excited eyes. ‘You’re a little Westie, I think. Aren’t you a doll?’ The dog wagged its tail, followed by its body, only retreating when its owner whistled. She smiled as it scampered away. Perhaps she should buy a dog. It might chase away the attack of the blues that seemed to have descended on her, wrapping its tentacles around her heart, strangling the life out of her.
Rose didn’t notice the dog’s owner. Didn’t see him take out a phone and pretend to speak to someone, as he took a photo of her. Ten photos, in fact, within a couple of seconds. The judge adored modern technology.
* After dinner, the judge retreated to his study and downloaded the photos from his phone onto his computer. He sat, manipulating the images, zooming in on the face, adjusting the contrast, the saturation, the brightness. After an hour, he was sure. As sure
