Kristin swallowed. The fear she'd damped down since that morning came back in a rush. 'She said it was personal, the inspector, that she was doing a favor for a friend, a woman named Erika Rosenthal. She said the brooch had belonged to her friend and it was lost during the war. She wanted to know who was selling it.'
'You're sure you didn't tell her?' Dom's voice rose.
'No. Of course not,' she said, thinking how perilously close she had come to spilling everything. There had been something sympathetic about the inspector, with her open face and coppery hair. 'And Khan read them the lawyer act. But I don't-'
'You have to take it out of the sale.' Dom was sweating now, the calm of a moment before gone, and when he raised his glass, his hand shook.
'Take it out of the sale?' Kristin stared at him. 'Are you mad? You know I can't take it out of the sale. Only Harry can do that.'
'Harry's convinced himself his twenty percent will keep the wolves from the door. He-'
'Twenty percent?' Kristin's voice shot up. 'You offered Harry twenty percent, against me risking the wrath of Khan for my four percent bringing-in fee?'
'I'd have made it up to you, Kris. But now-'
'Now, nothing. You and Harry work it out between you.' She set down her glass, miraculously empty. 'As far as I'm concerned, I don't know you-or Harry-from Adam, and I took in that brooch in good faith. And if it sells, you can keep my bloody four percent.'
She stood, the room spinning as the alcohol hit her system. The rhythm of the samba playing on the DJ's turntable seemed almost tangible in the air. Steadying herself with a hand on the back of the banquette, she leaned over and kissed Dom, very lightly, on the cheek. ''Bye, Dom. Have a nice life.'
When she reached the street, she looked back, but he hadn't followed, and she didn't know if she felt relief or despair.
Quickly, she walked round the corner into Kensington Church Street and started south, and when a 49 bus came along she got on. It would take her through South Ken, and she had a sudden desire to see the familiar museums and to pass by the showroom. It was, she told herself, all she had left.
But when the bus trundled past the Old Brompton Road, she stayed on, resisting the impulse to stop and look in the showroom windows. After all, if Khan found out she'd known there was something dodgy about that brooch, he would fire her in a heartbeat, and then there would be nothing at all.
It was only as the bus neared the King's Road that she realized Dom had changed his mind about the sale even before she'd told him about the cops. She got off, still thinking, walking slowly towards World's End. The road was empty, the pub dark-somehow it had got to be past closing time.
She waited to cross at the light, pulling her cardigan up around her throat, wondering just what she would say to Khan if Harry Pevensy
The light changed. As Kristin stepped off the curb, she heard the high-pitched squeal of tires on tarmac. Turning towards the sound, she saw a blur of motion, oncoming, and had the odd impression of lights reflecting off a smooth expanse of metal.
Her brain sent flight signals to her body, too late. And at the moment of impact, she felt nothing at all.
CHAPTER 7
1940
1934-1941
Kit lay awake, watching the numerals on his bedside clock change. One minute before his alarm was set to go off, he reached out and tapped the button. Tess was lying on the floor by the door, gazing at him balefully. He'd tossed and turned so much during the night that he'd pushed her off the bed, and her feelings were hurt.
'Here, girl.' He patted the bed. She stood, giving her customary wiggly stretch, then padded over to the bed and leapt up, but without much enthusiasm. It appeared he was not quite forgiven. He rolled over, lifting her wiry little body onto his chest, and she obliged by licking him on the chin. 'There, that's better,' he said, and scratched her behind the ears.
Even though he hadn't slept well, he was reluctant to get up. He'd gone to bed angry, and not even listening to 'London Calling' over and over on his earphones had made him feel better.
He hated it when grown-ups treated him like a child, and his dad and Gemma had brushed him off when he'd asked them how serious Gemma's mum's diagnosis was.
Of course, Vi wasn't his real grandmother, but he found that didn't matter. She had always been kind to him, had fed him and brusquely jollied him and welcomed him into her family when he'd felt the most lost and alone.
And then there was Gemma. It wasn't so bad for Toby, he was too young to mind much, but Gemma…He wished he knew what to say to her. He felt stupid and tongue-tied and frozen. What did you say to someone whose mum might die?
It had been the same with Erika, yesterday. He hadn't known what to say when she had told him about leaving Germany, about her father dying in the camps. When he got home he had looked up the camp where Jewish men from Berlin had been sent-Sachsenhausen-and wished he hadn't. But still, curiosity nagged at him like an itch, and he wished he'd heard the rest of Erika's story. What had she meant when she'd said the Nazis hadn't stolen her brooch? She'd changed the subject after that, refusing to say more, and Gemma hadn't pushed her.
'Kit! Rise and shine!' His dad's voice came from the second floor. Kit imagined him standing at the top of the stairs, buttoning his shirt, fresh from the shower and smelling of soap, his hair still damp and combed with a neatness that would last only until it was dry.
Gemma would be down soon, helping Toby dress-or at least arguing with him over his choices-and then there would be breakfast, and a kitchen full of chatter and barking dogs. Suddenly the day seemed a good deal brighter.
Dumping Tess unceremoniously onto the floor, Kit threw back the covers. 'I'm up,' he shouted back.
When Gemma came into the kitchen, Kincaid already had coffee on and was putting out cereal boxes for the boys. But when he held out a mug, she shook her head.
'No time. Toby was determined to wear his Spider-Man T-shirt with holes in it rather than his uniform this morning. And I want to get in early, see what's up, then dash to hosp-'
Kincaid was shaking his head.
'What?' asked Gemma, stopping a quick grab for juice.
'You can't keep on delegating to Melody and ducking out of the job. You're going to have to tell your super and Melody about your mum, request some time-'
'But I don't want-I don't like to-' She ran a hand through her shorter hair and the bareness of her neck made her feel vulnerable. She still missed the weight of her long plait on her back. 'I don't like airing my personal
