Diane heard. ‘Better to know? Better for you to know?’

Bruce did not reply. He seemed deep in thought.

‘At least she’s still got you,’ said Diane. ‘And that’s what counts, isn’t it?’

Bruce said nothing to this. He looked up at the sky, which was overcast and was reflecting the light of the streetlamps. He was conscious of Diane’s eyes upon him, but he was unconcerned. It was no business of hers how he reacted to the news of Lizzie’s misfortune. And what did she expect? That he should break into tears?

Diane knew, of course. She could tell from his expression how Bruce had reacted to this story. He was thinking; of course he was thinking. He would be wondering how he could get rid of Lizzie – poor Lizzie – because that was the reason why he had become engaged to her in the first place. Money. Now she had flushed him out, and that meant that Lizzie had been saved.

Bruce suddenly turned and looked at Diane. ‘I’m really sorry to hear that,’ he said. ‘I was …’

Diane waited. She noticed the effect of the streetlight on Bruce’s profile. She caught her breath. Cupid’s dart. She began to panic. Don’t be ridiculous. And yet it was like a pain, an excruciating pain. I’ve fallen for him, she thought. No, impossible. She allowed herself to look again. How could she ignore this? How could she be indifferent to this … she struggled to find the word. Then it came to her: vision. He was a vision, and she was smitten.

Bruce smiled at her and bent down to whisper to her. ‘I know what you’re thinking.’

She shook her head. Impossible. Stupid, stupid girl.

‘Don’t fight it,’ whispered Bruce. ‘What’s the point?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she stuttered.

‘Never fight it,’ said Bruce. ‘I don’t.’

30. Trust and Revelation

That Saturday morning, Angus Lordie called on Domenica Macdonald. It was not unusual for him to visit his friend in Scotland Street on a Saturday, although Domenica had made a point of warning him that he could not always expect to find her in. ‘I can’t sit here waiting for you, Angus,’ she said. ‘It would be just too pathetic a spectacle. I am not one of those spinsters who waits in her flat for a man to call. Be warned.’