“Day after tomorrow.”

“I’ll get away as soon as I can,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow. In the meantime, don’t say or do anything. Just carry on as normal. Okay?”

“Okay. And, Alan?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks. I mean it. I’m in a jam.” She paused, then added, “And I’m scared.”

“I’ll be there.”

After Banks hung up, he refilled his glass, put the second Bill Evans set on and settled down to think over the repercussions of what he had realized earlier that evening, reading his diary, and of what he had just heard from Michelle.

Chapter 13

Lauren Anderson lived in a small semi not too far from where Banks used to live with Sandra before their separation. He hadn’t passed the end of his old street in a long time, and it brought back memories he would rather forget. He felt cheated, somehow. The memories should have been good—he and Sandra had had good times together, had been in love for many years—but everything seemed tainted by her betrayal, and now by her forthcoming marriage to Sean. And the baby, of course. The baby hurt a lot.

He spoke nothing of his thoughts to Annie, who sat beside him. She didn’t even know he used to live there, as he had only met her after he moved to the Gratly cottage. Besides, she had made it clear that she wasn’t interested in his old life with Sandra and the kids; that was one of the main things that had come between them and broken up their brief and edgy romance.

It was as fine a summer’s day as they had seen in a while. They were in Banks’s car this time, the way he preferred it, with the windows open listening to Marianne Faithfull singing “Summer Nights” on a greatest hits CD. That was back when her voice was rich and smooth, before the booze, drugs and cigarettes had taken their toll the same way it happened with Billie Holiday. It was also a hit around the time Graham disappeared and captured the mood of that sex-preoccupied adolescent summer.

“I can’t believe you still listen to this stuff,” said Annie.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. It’s just so…old.”

“So is Beethoven.”

“Clever clogs. You know what I mean.”

“I used to fancy her like crazy.”

Annie shot him a sidelong glance. “Marianne Faithfull?”

“Yes. Why not? She used to come on Ready, Steady, Go! and Top of the Pops every time she had a new record out, and she’d sit on a high stool with her guitar looking just like a schoolgirl. But she’d be wearing a low-cut dress, legs crossed, and that sweet voice would come out, and you’d just want to…”

“Go on.”

Banks stopped at a traffic light and smiled at Annie. “I’m sure you get the picture,” he said. “She just looked so innocent, so virginal.”

“But if the stories are true, she put herself about quite a bit, didn’t she? Far from virginal, I’d say.”