“How about the Renaissance on St Pancras?”
“Too grand …?”
Pole rolled his eyes. “Rotunda at Kings Place, near the Canal?”
“Excellent.” Nancy adjusted a pair of grey gloves in supple calfskin that fitted her elegant hands perfectly. Pole noticed a set of discreet lemon-coloured stitches that ran around the wrist and over the fingers of the gloves. He smiled, fashion co-ordination down to the smallest detail.
“Shall we walk there?” Pole started towards the lifts. “I sense you need to unwind.”
Nancy smiled, moving a little faster to catch up with him. Pole put on his jacket as he walked.
The cold hit them both as they went out through the rotating doors of University College Hospital. Despite it being midday, the sky was grey and lowering, and darkness would come soon that evening. Pole turned up the collar of his jacket against his cheeks. Nancy stepped closer to him and he wrapped his right arm around her shoulders.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Nancy did not seem surprised at the question. Pole had made a successful career as a DCI, reading people well on a first encounter. There were few places to hide in the presence of Inspector Pole and he knew she did not mind his gentle probing.
She nodded, her yellow beret bobbing a few times against Pole’s shoulder.
“The flashbacks are happening more often now.”
“You are delving into your past … With both hands.” Pole gently stroked her forearm with his fingers.
“But it’s so strange it never happened until now.”
“Would you have allowed the past to trouble you like this when you were at the height of your career, or even on the way up there?”
Nancy slowed down a little. “I never thought about it that way. But to answer your question, yes, you are right. The past was buried deep and I certainly did not have any desire to revisit it.”
“But now you do?” It was a question that Pole asked regularly. He had agreed to help Nancy on the road to discovering the missing parts of her past. But that process had to be driven by her desire to find out what had happened to her father almost 30 years ago, not his desire to ingratiate himself by producing the information she needed unprompted.
“I’m not turning back now … I need to know. Although I have to admit that what I may find at the end of the journey or even what I may find on the way is scaring me.”
They walked for a little while in silence. Pole would not pretend the path to the truth was going to be easy. It would have been dishonest to say otherwise. More importantly, Nancy would have known it was disingenuous on his part and that would not do.
“This time … I mean the memory, was about the last part of our journey to Hong Kong. I had completely forgotten about it.”
“You spent months being scared on the way to reaching safety. I’m not surprised that as a seven-year-old girl you chose to shut it away. Even adults do that when faced with the prospect of torture or death.”
Nancy shivered. “I know … and yet, the memory is disturbingly fresh.”
They arrived at the Euston Road crossing that led to the British Library. The little green man at the crossing disappeared and they both accelerated their pace, half running to reach the other side.
Nancy slowed to a stop. Her eyes moved to the imposing Paolozzi statue that stood on a high plinth in the British Library piazza. It was of a man, sitting on a block, bending forward and, as he did so, measuring the universe with a set of dividers.
“I’m never completely sure about this sculpture, you know …”
“You prefer the original watercolour of Isaac Newton measuring the universe by William Blake?”
“I suppose I do … I like Blake’s uncompromising way of telling the stories he believed in.”
“Which was unfashionable at the time.”
“That’s right … Newton was a dominant figure and well-respected scientist.”
“But Blake thought he could not see the limitations of his attempt to measure the work of God …”
Nancy cocked her head, still looking at the imposing piece. “Perhaps we too are limited in what we see.”
A gust of wind reminded them that it was the middle of the winter and that they needed to find shelter. Pole wrapped his arm around her once more and urged her gently towards their cosier destination.
The Rotunda restaurant was almost full. Pole spotted a table that was being vacated and called the head waiter to secure the place for them.
Within five minutes, they were comfortably settled and had ordered their food. Nancy removed her little hat and let her eyes roam around the room. She looked with interest past Pole’s shoulder through the floor-length windows.
The Regents Canal looked almost welcoming, despite the grey water. It reflected the colourful narrow boats that were moored there, and a few evergreen trees provided some foliage along the canal. Pole followed her gaze.
They both chatted for a short while about the new Kings Place building and the improvements it had brought to the area. It was a gentle way to ease into the more serious conversation they would have once the food had arrived, and they were sure of their privacy.
The appetising dishes they had decided to share arrived.
Grilled broccoli, poached duck egg, truffle oil and hazelnuts. Pole absentmindedly picked up the pepper mill and gave it a few turns over the egg. Nancy would almost certainly pick at his dish. He knew she would enjoy the additional spice.
Braised beef ribs and skin on fries with garlic herb butter. She had forgotten all about a small something for lunch after all. Nancy moved the small dish holding the fries between the two plates, ready to share.
They both took a mouthful and groaned with pleasure. The food had the foreseen effect on Nancy. She relaxed into her chair and her face regained its gentleness. The side of her Pole had discovered
