With a smile for the resigned sales assistant, she left holding her bag over her pocket to hide the circular bulge in the fabric. She waited until she’d left Covent Garden behind before slipping it on.

The Covent Café, close enough to legitimately use the name, was still a few minutes’ walk away. Still too early, Jo walked slowly, window shopping, feeling nervous anticipation build as the time ticked toward the hour of meeting.

It was still ten minutes to the appointed hour when she pushed open the door of the restaurant. A black-garbed waiter standing behind a dais looked up as she approached, a sycophantic smile barely moving his thin lips.

‘I’m meeting a friend. She’s made a reservation. Fellowes.’

‘Fellowes,’ he muttered. ‘Just one moment.’

It seemed to take an unnecessarily long time for him to check. Irritation segued to fear. Maybe it was the wrong place or the wrong time. Or worse, the wrong day. Or maybe – Jo swallowed the lump that lodged in her throat – maybe she’d been made a fool of, and Allison had never really planned to meet up.

So many emotions shot through Jo, she couldn’t pin one down. Unable to decide whether to laugh at herself for being a fool, or howl at the anguish of disappointment, she stood with her lips pressed together and tried not to cry. All the years of waiting. The desperate need to face her nemesis. It had come to nothing.

She was about to laugh it off and say she’d got the time mixed up, muster a little dignity and make her escape, when the waiter lifted his face and nodded. ‘I’ll show you to your table.’

16

The table Jo was taken to was set in a corner, two chairs tucked underneath, tall, leafy potted plants acting as a screen to separate it from the tables on either side. Both seats giving a good view over the restaurant, she was happy to take the one the waiter pulled out for her. Once she was seated, he placed menus on the table in front of her. ‘Would you like to order a drink while you wait?’

Jo would have liked a gin and tonic to settle her nerves, but she was aware she might end up paying for some if not all of this lunch and a G&T in this upmarket establishment wouldn’t be cheap. ‘No, thank you, I’ll wait till my friend arrives.’ He was about to move off when she stopped him with a raised hand. ‘But…’

‘Yes, madam?’

‘If you could bring some water… tap,’ she added hurriedly. She was damned if she’d waste money on fancy mineral water.

‘Certainly.’

A different waiter brought a carafe to the table moments later. ‘I’ll be back to take your order when the other party arrives,’ he said and left her.