She headed into the normal bathrooms this time, to reapply a whole face of makeup, and curled her eyelashes right out, something she almost never did. Her eyebrows were a mess, her not trusting Ginty on this issue, but she’d done the best she could, and she added a pretty rose-colored lipstick to her lips and a little blush to her cheeks and let down her hair, then laughed at herself for being so over the top. Then she squirted on some more perfume just in case.

Still nothing on her phone from Cormac. She frowned. Well, it wasn’t far to Borough Market. Maybe he thought court would run later. She’d been surprised how quick it had been, in the end. She’d been a good witness, Roisin had told her, which had felt so good.

Or perhaps he’d be waiting there . . . sitting in the sun. She reminded herself that he might be five feet tall and three feet wide, then wondered how much that would really—really—matter, as much as she looked forward to talking to him, how his messages were the highlight of her day.

The sunshine hit her full in the face, dazzling her. She practically bounced along the south bank, cutting through side streets to avoid the crowds, walking straight past the police station Cormac was currently being held in.

Chapter 70

Cormac sat in the holding cell with two other kids from the courthouse, both of them cursing and swearing.

“We were just there to support Kai,” complained one, whose name was Tim. “Just to show him he isn’t forgotten.”

“By kicking the lumps out of some guy,” said Cormac. “Come on, lads. You must know that isn’t helpful.”

“Are you Scottish?” said Tim. “I thought Scotch folk love kicking lumps out of people.”

“He was doing a good job with Big Al,” pointed out the other boy, who presumably had a name that wasn’t Nobbo, but Nobbo seemed to do.

“So you were,” said Tim.

“I was trying to stop him accidentally really hurting someone. And ending up in prison,” said Cormac.

“We’re in prison now,” said Tim.

“I realize that,” said Cormac.

BOROUGH MARKET WAS absolutely heaving, every stall was rammed. And Lissa didn’t know what he looked like. She glanced around. What kind of thing would Cormac like? She didn’t even know, she realized. She knew so little about him.

Finally, right at the back, she spied an empty table at a little hole-in-the-wall tapas bar. That looked absolutely perfect. She slipped into the bar, smiling at the man serving, who showed her to the table with a wave of his hand.

“For one?”

“Two,” said Lissa, beaming nervously. “I’m waiting on someone.”

The man smiled. “Lovely. Can I bring you a negroni?”