‘What do you want me to do? Tell me.’

‘My grief for Penelope was painful and frightening.’

‘I was there.’

‘Admit that this business is an offence to Penelope. And to me!’

Everyone in the cafe heard Valia shout. Lucky knew her anger was coming. For days he’d drifted about waiting for this moment. Was it a moment? Or was he stuck in her contempt forever?

Poor Vasilis ‘Lucky’ Mallios, hated to the end by his ex-wife. He is survived by no one.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘This place is built on her death.’

He thought Valia would get up and leave but she didn’t move from the booth.

‘Why do you think this monster took his life?’ she asked.

‘In the letter he said his life was a disaster,’ said Lucky. ‘I didn’t know the man. I sent him a postcard a few months ago. My supplier for the sundae dishes is English and I asked them to do me a favour and find his address. Then I sent Asquith a postcard of the Lucky’s restaurant. I said thank you. It was something I’d been meaning to do for a long time.’

‘Had you spoken to him before?’

‘I wrote to him years ago, at a different address, when we got those first restaurants. Do you remember? He didn’t reply.’ Then Lucky’s control slipped: ‘I miss you, Valia. So much time has passed and it hasn’t stopped.’

‘I’m sorry you have those feelings. But I came to talk about the letter.’

There was a distance in her voice that Lucky had heard before—when the marriage faltered and failed. He was soft. Her tone clawed into him.

He said: ‘Do we know for sure that he’s dead?’

‘I contacted the British consulate and enquired about him, said he was an old friend, said I’d heard a rumour he died, and a few days later they confirmed it. Let’s get this straight: will you go to the police?’

‘Will you?’ Lucky asked.

‘I don’t see the benefit of this getting out. Not for you or me or the franchisees. Who have you told?’

‘No one. You?’

‘Robert,’ said Valia. Robert, her husband—Lucky still loathed everyone with that name. Valia continued: ‘I came here to tell you that I’m going to destroy the letter that Mr Asquith sent me. Penelope is dead. This Asquith man is dead. It’s finished.’

‘Then take this too.’ And Lucky handed her the letter he’d received.

‘I’ll burn these when I get home. The letters are not going to turn up in ten years’ time, you understand?’

‘It’s up to you what you do with them.’

‘Goodbye now, Lucky.’ She rose from her seat.

‘No! Stay. How is your daughter? How is your husband? Tell me about him. What does he do?’

Valia shook her head gently. She wasn’t going to talk about her family.