Maria wished she did not have to sleep at her mother’s. But then her mother didn’t have much of a life. Two weeks away with her brother in Italy weren’t much of an annual holiday, and at least her mind would be at rest if Maria could spend a few nights there, she said, to keep the cat company. Company for a cat, maybe that was her lot now. She lay awake on the narrow bed in the spare room feeling lower than she could remember.

It was her own fault. She should have been more assertive. Like her mother. Should have made her feelings better known. But that was not her style. He must have guessed mustn’t he? That it wasn’t just a friendship?

But if she were honest with herself, that’s all it was. So far. How could she claim it was more? There seemed to be a bond between them but it remained, as yet, largely unexplored. The rest was in her mind. Her imagination. Her dreams. She realized that she simply did not know. And now his wife had come back. She had left soon afterwards, but probably only to go and get her things. If that were not the case he would have explained it to her wouldn’t he? Especially on her last day. Maybe he had forgotten. Been distracted.

And then she had left the note. Saying good-bye as though she thought the whole arrangement was temporary anyway. So there you are. That was probably that. She had had her chance and missed it. What a fool she was. What a slow, oversensitive fool.

Chapter 23

Tender-handed stroke a nettle,

And it stings you for your pains;

Grasp it like a man of mettle,

And it soft as silk remains.

‘Verses Written on a Window in Scotland’,
Aaron Hill, 1685–1750

Gary did not sleep much that night. He lay awake thinking about the proposed meeting with Mr Tan the following day, and about Sarah. Was she cooling towards him? Why had he let her get to him? What if she told him it was all getting too much? Too intense? That he’d caught her on the rebound and it would be better if they kept to a working relationship, nothing more.

At half past six in the morning he was up and sitting at the desk in his flat, running over the likely events of the day in front of him. He felt unusually nervous. He always felt apprehensive about an operation like this, but not as jumpy as he felt today. He made himself a cup of strong coffee with the intention of calming his nerves. It was only partially effective.