‘On this occasion, I’m pleased to say I couldn’t have behaved better and therefore have nothing to atone for,’ the Snowman went on. ‘Whatever our colleagues in London had to say about you, Waterhouse, I stuck resolutely to the view that you were reliable and would be proved to be so. While others doubted, I always knew you’d be back here where you belong. How would it have looked if you’d returned to discover that I’d reassigned Mrs Beddoes and her multifarious misdemeanours to Sellers or Gibbs? I did no such thing. I fought off many attempts, on the part of colleagues who shall remain nameless . . .’—Proust scowled at Kombothekra—‘. . . to purloin work that was rightfully yours. You all know I have my faults, but I’m happy to say disloyalty isn’t among them.’

He held out the road atlas for Simon to take. ‘Happy travels, Waterhouse. May the prevailing winds be with you.’

29 - Tuesday 1 April 2008

29

Tuesday 1 April 2008

‘Do you think he’s all right in there?’ I ask Saul for about the twentieth time. We’re in Sam Kombothekra’s car in the car park at Long Leighton prison, waiting for Aidan, Charlie and Sam to come out.

‘I think he’s more than all right,’ Saul says, as he has twenty times already. ‘What about you? Can you face what might happen? ’

‘If Aidan can, I can.’ Yesterday I donated my entire collection of self-help books to Word on the Street, where I’d bought most of them. This morning I took down my Charlie Zailer wall. None of that was real. The progress Aidan and I have made since that night at Garstead Cottage—that’s real. Substantial.

Saul pats my hand. ‘I’m going to tell you something Aidan made me promise not to,’ he says.

‘What?’ My heart dips. ‘We agreed no more secrets. When did he . . .?’

‘He’s going to ask you to marry him. Later today, whatever happens in there. He’s got an engagement ring in his pocket. What will you say?’

I feel faint with relief. ‘Yes. Obviously.’

‘Good. I knew that would be your answer.’

‘Then why tell me and spoil the surprise?’

‘There have been enough surprises already,’ said Saul. ‘With any luck, there won’t be any more for a good long while.’

I open the car door, seeing Charlie walking towards us across the car park. Something’s not right. She’s looking purposeful, walking too quickly. ‘I need you both to come inside,’ she says.

‘I don’t want to see him,’ I tell her, panicking. ‘Aidan doesn’t want me to . . .’

‘You won’t see Len Smith. You’ll be nowhere near him.’

‘Is Aidan all right?’

‘He’s doing fine. He’s doing brilliantly.’

‘Then what . . .?’

‘It’s better if I show you. I’m assuming neither of you’s got your passport or driving licence with you.’

‘No.’

Saul shakes his head.