CHAPTER

6

BY THE TIME I collected Rosie from Charles’s place at eight o’clock, she was more than hungry and somewhat angry that her supper had been so delayed.

‘Mrs Cross did give her some biscuits,’ Charles said, ‘but she didn’t seem to like them very much.’

‘Dog biscuits?’ I asked.

‘No. Digestives, I think.’

‘I hope they weren’t chocolate ones. Chocolate is poisonous for dogs.’

Charles looked worried and scuttled off to find out from his housekeeper.

Rosie didn’t look like she’d been poisoned as she jumped up at me.

‘Plain digestives,’ Charles said with relief, returning to the hallway.

‘They still contain too much salt,’ I said. ‘But it’s my fault. I didn’t expect to be back so late. I’ll get her home now for her usual food.’

‘Any news from Marina?’ Charles asked as I was getting Rosie into the Skoda.

‘Not since yesterday morning. I tried to call her on my way south but she didn’t pick up.’

Charles pursed his lips. ‘I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I’m sure she’ll come back.’ But he didn’t sound sure.

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Marina can be very determined. And she won’t want to lose face by simply deciding she was wrong to have gone in the first place.’

‘Then you had better damn well get yourself over to Holland and fetch her back, or else.’

Charles had always been a keen advocate of gunboat diplomacy.

In truth, I had considered the same thing but decided to bide my time.

It would be hugely counterproductive to arrive unannounced, demanding that Marina come home at the very moment her father was dying. Better to leave it for a while, to see how the old man’s condition developed, and to wait until Saskia was homesick for her friends and Marina was thoroughly fed up with her mother’s apparent indifference to widowhood.

‘I’ll give her some more time,’ I said, getting into the car.

‘Don’t leave it too long,’ Charles advised through the open window. ‘You don’t want her getting used to being back there.’

‘She won’t want to stay there very long. She is far too keen on her job with Cancer Research UK to give that up.’

Even if she gives me up, I thought miserably.

‘Come again soon,’ Charles said. ‘I have plenty more single malt in the cellar and it’s in danger of outliving me.’ He laughed, but we both knew it was true. His health had declined appreciably in the three years since our run-in with the terrorist, and his previously ramrod-straight back was definitely now showing a bit of a stoop.