I picked it up and clicked on it. The message was from Facebook. Could it be…?

I couldn’t stifle a weird inhaling noise.

“Are you ok, Leonie?” asked Brandy, wandering past with a herbal tea.

I snapped my head up. “Yes. Fine, thanks.”

My attention drilled into my phone screen while I clicked on the app and pulled up the message.

Oh my God. It was from him. It was from Flynn Talbot.

Chapter Eighteen

Dear Ms Baxter,

I’m not sure I’m able to help you, but I have an appointment in Glasgow on Friday morning. Perhaps we can meet then?

Regards,

Flynn Talbot

I read over the message a few more times. Wow! Short, concise, and formal. It wasn’t buzzing with emotion or sentiment. Bloody hell. Had I done the right thing contacting him after all? Was this in fact the man that Lily appeared to be still thinking about after all these years?

I pressed my lips together, lost in my thoughts. Well, now that he had made contact, it would be ridiculous not to speak to him face-to-face. Did he remember Lily? Was he prepared to acknowledge their past? I sure as hell hoped so!

My apprehensive fingers jabbed my phone keys as I composed a reply:

Thank you for getting back to me, Mr Talbot. I work in the city centre and would be able to meet up for a coffee at 11am this Friday morning in the Sycamore Tea Rooms on Buchanan Street, if that suits?

Seconds later, Flynn Talbot replied through Facebook Messenger, confirming that was fine and he would see me then.

My stomach performed a roll of anticipation. Was I doing the right thing? I would soon find out.

In the meantime, Kerry and I began investigating Lulu Stark’s skincare range.

We knew we had to be discreet otherwise Athena would be alerted, so we arranged to meet up at odd times in quiet areas of the office and exchange emails, rather than be seen to be chatting. It suited me too that the majority of our colleagues on Goddess thought I was still resentful about Kerry securing the job that I had wanted. That way, they wouldn’t even consider the possibility of us working together.

The cost of Lulu Stark’s eye cream was ridiculous. A pot the size of a mini jam compote of the kind you get in a bed and breakfast was upwards of £300 – and this from a woman who apart from her witty comedy routines would often use her high profile to promote social inclusion and speak out against poverty.

I advised Kerry to contact the press office of the skincare range, Stardust, for a few quotes. “We can start there and then hopefully speak to Lulu Stark herself. Get her side of the story.”

Kerry blushed with gratitude to the roots of her shiny milk-chocolate hair. “I can’t thank you enough for your help, Leonie.”