Lindsay stared miserably at Cordelia. It was all too much to take in. She had lost the one woman with whom she had ever formed an equal relationship; a former lover was dead; and a former colleague was in prison for her murder. Once she could have turned to Cordelia for the love and support to carry her through those moments when the roof caved in on her life. But it was too late for that now. She gradually became aware that Claire was talking to her. “I’m sorry,” Lindsay said. “I didn’t catch what you said.”

“I said I’d like to discuss with you the possibility of trying to clear Jackie’s name. It’s not too late for an appeal if we can dig up some fresh evidence. I’m not asking you to make any decision now—I realize this has been rather a traumatic evening. But I’d appreciate it if you’d call me tomorrow when you’ve had time to think it over.” Claire fished in the inevitable filofax and produced a card. “My home and my business numbers are both there.”

Lindsay stared numbly at the card lying on the table. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d encountered someone with Claire’s thick-skinned audacity. Her nerve was breathtaking, a sharp contrast to the way Lindsay herself was feeling. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Coming home was supposed to feel good. But she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so bad.

3

Lindsay sat staring at the cigarette in her hand, watching the smoke spiral up to join the thick layer that hung below the ceiling in the crowded bar of the Tron Theatre. The noisy chatter of the literary wing of Glasgow’s renaissance could not distract her from the bleakness that filled her. She was shaken from her reverie by Sophie’s return from the bar with two spritzers, condensation already dripping down the glasses. “Drink up, doctor’s orders,” Sophie said sympathetically as she sat down.

“Thanks,” Lindsay muttered. “Sorry to spoil your evening.”

“Don’t be daft,” Sophie replied. “I haven’t seen a cabaret as good as that since last year’s Edinburgh Festival. I’d forgotten what a drama queen you can be. I’ll be dining out on it for months.” In spite of herself, Lindsay smiled. “So, what are you going to do about it?” Sophie added.

“About Cordelia or about Jackie?”

“Both.”

Lindsay sighed. “There doesn’t seem to be a whole lot I can do about Cordelia, does there? She’s got herself a class act to cuddle up to. Much more her speed than a toerag like me, don’t you think?”