‘She keeps it simple–Parma ham and melon, salami and Italian bread. And that’s all I want for lunch–not some sticky goo!’

‘You could prepare it yourself, you know.’

‘I could. And I was perfectly happy to. It was Luisa who insisted that I be cooked for–helpless single chap and all that.’

‘Have you told Maria?’

‘Well, no. I tried to. But then she took all this stuff out of her basket and I hadn’t the heart to. And anyway…’

Erica looked at him with her head on one side.

Christopher met her eye, drew a large breath and said, ‘I enjoy her company. That’s all.’

Tiger wasn’t enjoying anyone’s company. He was sitting in his helicopter parked on the island of Tresco. If the weather had been good it would have been great flying. But it wasn’t. It was grey, and the cloud base was low. The guys were out surveying whatever they needed to survey, and he was waiting for them to return.

Why this job had suddenly come up he couldn’t for the life of him imagine. He thought about Erica working in the bookshop and wondered, just for a moment, if she was thinking about him.

Chapter 9

Anyone watching keenly the stealthy convergence of human lots, sees a slow preparation of effects from one life on another, which tells like a calculated irony on the indifference or the frozen stare with which we look at our unintroduced neighbour.

Middlemarch, George Eliot, 1819–80

‘How much do you socialize with him?’ Sarah asked.

‘About once a week, why?’ asked Gary.

Well, if you took me along then I might be able to ask things in all innocence.’

‘No. Not possible.’

‘Why not? Stag do, is it?’

‘Yes.’

Gary was sitting at his desk, tapping away at a laptop. Sarah was doing the same. The exchange took place without either of them looking up, until Sarah said, ‘Couldn’t you make an exception for me?’

Gary lifted his head. ‘Are you teasing me?’

‘Why should I do that? I’m just trying to progress this case,’ said Sarah. ‘Thought I might be able to help.’

She was pushing him. Seeing how long it would be before he gave in. He knew that she wanted to get on with the enquiry but sensed also that she wanted him to feel there might be more. He had been here before. With women who promised much but delivered little. Led you on then dropped you like a hot brick when it suited them. He made to concentrate on the screen, but she refused to let it rest.

‘What do you do then, on these nights out?’

‘Sport.’

‘That’s a bit vague. What sort of sport? No. Don’t tell me, let me guess. Squash. That’s what middle-aged men usually play. Short, sharp and plenty of sweat. Very macho.’

‘No.’ He didn’t rise to the bait. Didn’t look up.