It wasn’t until, with a whoosh of relief that surprised me with its intensity, I finally heard Leonard’s soft “knock knock” at the door and I remembered that, any minute now, a certain Adam Linley might be walking into a pub expecting to meet his prodigal son.

33

I HAD NO reason to think that Adam Linley was even going to show up at O’Neill’s, as there hadn’t been so much as a peep in response to my text. But with Norman out of action and the whole plan unraveling at a rate of knots, I figured the least I could do was keep the rendezvous at seven o’clock, just in case.

By the time Leonard had shown up with a shopping bag full of little newspaper packages tied up with red string and a sheepish excuse about getting just a tiny bit lost, I had about five minutes to spare to get to the pub. Which was exactly enough because, courtesy of Leonard’s planning skills, O’Neill’s was literally around the corner.

“I won’t be long, Leonard. I’ll just wait around for half an hour or so, and if the guy...if Adam doesn’t show up, I’ll come back.”

I kissed Norman’s sleeping forehead and left Leonard fussing about with his packages, arranging them on the desk and, I couldn’t help noticing, having quite the little chat to himself as he did it.

“Now, mmm, which one did the chappie say was...? Ah, okay, I think this one first and then...no, no...this one. That’s it... I think.” I left him to it.

When I walked into O’Neill’s, my plan had been to find a quiet seat in a corner facing the door, on the off chance that if Adam Linley came through it I’d be able to see him before he saw me. On the even more off chance that I’d actually recognize him. But that idea went straight out the window, because the place was absolutely jam-packed. Bournemouth was clearly a comedy hot spot and I felt a guilty wave of relief that Norman wasn’t going to have to get up in front of that lot.

I managed to fight my way to the bar and crammed myself into a couple of inches of space. I could only see a sliver of the door, but it looked like the best I could hope for. I figured that if I did see Adam Linley come in, I could make a judgment on whether he’d turned out to be a half-decent person and whether it was at all possible he was Norman’s father from a distance. If not, I could just slink away into the crowd and tell the others he hadn’t shown up.

Since this whole plan started, there had been an irrational part of me that felt like I’d know Norman’s father when I saw him. Like some kind of genetic marker would be hovering over the right guy and I’d be able to say without a doubt that our search was over. No paternity test required. Norman, may I present your father. Prince William of Wales! I realized the glass of wine I’d been sipping slowly was already starting to go to my head.