His blue eyes were steady and true. Eyes, I realized, I'd come to respect and very much like to see around these days. They made me feel safe.

“Thank you," I breathed. I took a great gulp of my drink to steady myself.

As I set my glass down, a bearded chap stuck his head around the corner. He blinked in bewilderment.

"Blimey. It's like something out of Poldark in here. Planning a shipwreck?" Shona's sound man stared round in wonder.

Shona drained her glass. “Mike. Right. Gotta go. Stay in touch, Tommy."

She got up and wriggled into her jacket. Before she went, though, she reached out and grabbed something from the table, which I realized was a tape recorder. She looked at me.

“Tommy asked me not to turn it on and I didn't. It's all off the record. But Flora . . ." She looked searchingly at me. Pleadingly even.

"I know," I said quickly. "I know."

She nodded. "Good."

I swallowed hard. She gave Tommy a steady look.

“Tell her the rest," she told him firmly.

Chapter 27

"What did she mean?" I asked him. “Tell her the rest?"

Tommy looked at me. He sat back in his chair. He seemed about to speak, then, abruptly, he reached for his glass, drained it and stood up. "Let’s get out of here. This place is driving me nuts. I feel like the Spanish Inquisition is going to appear at any moment, brandishing sabres. Anyway, I'm driving and one bourbon is enough. I need to walk it off."

He plucked his linen jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged into it in an easy motion. I finished my drink and followed suit.

He was quiet and pensive as we left and I felt somewhat intimidated by his air of preoccupation and seriousness, so that, despite all my natural inclinations to seize his arm and cry, "What? What?" I followed him silently outside. We fell into step beside one another down the precipitous cobbled street, which took a degree of concentration in itself. Gordon had simply nodded curtly as we departed, but I'd noticed, as I shut the door behind us, that he'd watched us go through the front window with more than his usual interest, curious, perhaps, at people even more taciturn than himself. We headed on down to the harbor, watching our steps on the cobbles. The silence was dreadful and I was full of fear for what it held, but just when I could bear it no longer, I realized I had to be the grownup here. Help him along a bit. Give him some time. And not just wait in anticipatory silence, but fill the gaps, conversationally.