Alarm Call

Chapter 17

Prim said nothing as the elevator descended to the ground floor and as we walked through the lobby and back out on to Second Street, but I could feel her seething beside me.

The volcano erupted once we had walked far enough along the street to be out of sight of the apartment. ‘She was lying, Oz!’ Her shout startled me with its violence. ‘She was lying in her bloody teeth! She knows where he is: they’ve been there, him and Tom. That was Tom’s duck in the bathroom. I bought it for him myself in Oxford Street.’

I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her to me, to calm her as much as anything else. There weren’t many people about, but I didn’t want attention drawn to us. ‘I know she lied, love, but we’re not in a position to beat the truth out of her, are we?’

‘Maybe they’re still here. Maybe they were in that bloody apartment all the time, in one of the bedrooms.’

‘And maybe Tom kept quiet all that time, hearing people in the living room, maybe even hearing your voice. I don’t think so.’

‘Maybe he was drugged.’

‘Prim. Stop and think; Martha invited us to her place, remember. She insisted that you come. She wouldn’t have done that if they were still hiding out there. She forgot about the duck in the bathroom, that’s all.’ I paused. ‘No, it isn’t. She’d no idea who you were when you stepped out of the lift. When she heard your first name she never even twitched, and she is not that good at pretending, trust me. She may know that Paul is on the run from Britain with his kid, but she doesn’t know about you and she probably doesn’t know about the money either.’

‘So where does that leave us?’ she demanded, as I flagged down a cab. It was as old and as battered as any taxi I’d ever seen, but it was there, and that was what mattered.

‘The Merchant’s,’ I told the driver, as we slid into the cramped back seat.

‘Where’s that, mon?’ he asked, in a slightly spaced voice.

‘You’re on First Avenue,’ I told him. ‘So is the Merchant’s. Just drive straight along it until you get to the intersection with Sixth. Can you do that?’

‘I can do dat, mon.’

He did it very slowly and carefully; I had to tell him where to stop.

In the elevator to the twentieth floor I switched my cell-phone back on; it told me that I had two voice messages. I checked them; one was from DI McLaren, the other from Mark Kravitz, and both wanted calls back.

They had to wait, though: I still had Prim to deal with. ‘What are we doing here?’ she wanted to know. ‘We should be back at Paul’s mother’s place. We could get a car and park across the street, and watch for him.’

‘As in a stake-out, you mean?’

‘Yes. If he’s not there now, he might come back. We could catch him.’

‘And what if we hire a car and all the parking bays are full, like they were when we were there? Even if we found one near enough to Martha’s place to be worth it, we’d stick out like a sore thumb.’

I sat her down on one of the beds and held her hand. ‘Listen to me for a bit.’ Her mouth went into one of its stubborn pouts, and her eyes glistened. I touched her chin, to make her look up, and, because it seemed like the best way to get rid of the pout and to get her attention, I kissed her, lightly. She blinked in surprise, but she kept looking at me.

‘Listen, now,’ I began. ‘This is what I honestly believe. Paul was there, yes, and he was there with Tom. But he’s been gone for two months, so it could have been weeks ago. He can’t have told Martha anything about you. . or, at least, not the truth about you, for two reasons. One, she genuinely didn’t recognise your name. Two, if he had told her, she’d have connected you with me straight away.’

‘So maybe he will come back.’

‘Is he that daft? He’s going to be expecting you to come after him, and he’ll assume this will be the first place you’ll look. He touched down here with Tom, yes, and he went to see his mother, yes, but he won’t have pushed his luck by hanging around. Plus, I’m pretty certain that Martha could contact him if she wanted. Maybe she will get word to him that I’m looking for him to offer him a job. You know what he’s going to make of that; he’ll figure out that I’m on his trail. I’m hoping that he’s going to break cover, and run for it.’

‘How will that help us?’

‘If he does, what will he do? Sooner or later? He’ll go to the money, that’s what. Okay, we haven’t been able to con Martha into giving us his address, but if we can trace your dough, we’ll trace him.’

‘But how are we going to do that?’

‘We’re not, but why in God’s name do we employ policemen? McLaren, remember? There’s a message on my phone for me to call him back.’

She’d been full of hope since we’d left. It had gone for a while, but now it returned, coloured by obvious relief that we hadn’t hit a brick wall. She let out a great sigh. I lay down on my side on the bed, drawing her with me. I smiled at her, and stroked her hair. It was like a couple of times in the old days, when we’d been in trouble.

‘It’s going to be all right, honey. We’ll find him.’ I kissed her again, but on the forehead this time.

‘What’ll happen when we do?’

‘Mark reckons that he’ll offer to do a deal; he gets to keep the money, all formally agreed, no police, no nothing, and he’ll relinquish Tom to you.’ I didn’t tell her about the extra scenario, where he might try to extort more from Miles.

‘He can have the money; I just want my baby.’

‘It won’t come to that. You’ll get Tom back, and Wallinger will get the nick.’

She threw her arms around me as we lay there, and hugged me; I could feel the new, unfamiliar weight of her breasts, I could taste her hair in my mouth, and feel the dampness of her tears on my face. I let her hold on to me, thinking of Susie, not as she’d become, but of how down and despairing she’d been when we’d first got it together, behind Prim’s back. ‘Funny how life can turn full circle,’ I whispered.

‘What?’ she murmured.

‘Nothing.’ I rolled her gently on to her back and sat up.

‘I wish you loved me,’ she said. ‘But after you find my son, I’ll never ask anything of you again, never: that’s a promise.’

‘Aye, sure,’ I said, with a laugh. ‘I’m going to call McLaren.’

‘What will I do?’ she asked, with some of her old mischief. ‘I want to do something for you, and since a blow-job seems out of the question. . Tell me what I can do to help you.’

I thought about it, but nothing came immediately to mind. ‘I dunno,’ I admitted.

She frowned for a few seconds, then her face lit up.

‘How about this?’ she said. ‘There’s bound to be a hairdresser in this place. What if I find it, and get my hair cut shorter, the practical, nurse’s cap way it used to be? To be honest, I’ve never really liked it this way.’

I looked at her, lying there, and thought of how she’d been in the past, in the good times. ‘You’re right,’ I told her. ‘You do that. If you really want to know, I think you look a hell of a lot younger with it shorter.’

‘Say no more,’ she said. ‘You’ve convinced me.’ She jumped up and looked in the mirror, smoothing her hair down, then ruffling it again.

As she launched into the rituals involved in getting ready to go to the hairdresser, I picked up the hands-free hotel phone and went through to our sitting area. I retrieved DI McLaren’s number from my pocket PC. . yes, I’m just like Harvey January in that respect; it goes everywhere with me. . and called him.

‘Mr Blackstone.’ There was a bit of echo on the line, but otherwise it was clear. ‘I’ve got some news for you.’

‘Good news?’

‘Up to a point.’

‘You’ve traced it?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s a bloody good start, then. It’s not in Minneapolis, is it?’

‘No, it’s nowhere near there. I did make enquiries of the firm whose number you gave me, but I was able to eliminate it right away. HHH doesn’t handle funds from outside the USA; in fact, it hardly handles funds from outside Minnesota. It’s a specialist local house with an impeccable reputation and, believe me, in these days of money-laundering, American fund managers are very closely scrutinised.’

‘So where is it?’

‘It’s in a sterling account in a private bank called Fairmile and Company in Vancouver, British Columbia.’

‘Under what name?’

‘Primavera Phillips.’

‘It’s still in her name? Wasn’t that a surprise to you?’

‘Not really; I expected that it would be. Wallinger was acting as Ms Phillips’s agent, remember, and that’s all he was. When he sold up her investments, in the absence of a signed instruction from her to her bank, he’d have had no choice but to transfer the funds into her nominated account, the one into which dividend and interest payments were normally made. And when he went to move the money out, it would have had to go to another account in her name. Unless she told the bank herself, they wouldn’t have transferred the money into any other account than one that’s in her name.’

‘What if he tried to do that?’ I asked.

‘The transmitting bank would have insisted on a signed authorisation, or on meeting her in person, quite possibly the latter.’

‘Did he transfer it straight from the UK to Canada?’

‘It wasn’t in the UK, it was in the Isle of Man, but the answer is no: he moved it into a Jersey account first, then to Vancouver. He probably thought he was being clever. In other circumstances he might have been, using another offshore bank as a launching platform, but I have excellent relationships with both of them, and they were prepared to talk to me.’

‘How’s he going to get the money out?’

‘He’ll have to go to Vancouver, show them Ms Phillips’s letter of instruction and probably evidence of her ownership of the funds. On the basis of that he might be able to arrange some sort of staged transfer to another bank, one that’s less scrupulous about setting up accounts.’

‘But the money’s still there?’

‘So far, yes. I’d have expected him to have tried to move it by now, but he hasn’t.’

‘You’ve spoken to Fairmile and Company?’

‘The local police have. However, there is very little big-scale fraud there; the Vancouver Police Department resources are mainly deployed elsewhere. They’ve done as much as they can in verifying that the account exists and that Ms Phillips is the owner of record. They can go no further without evidence of a crime.’

I began to realise why he had said that the news was good, up to a point. ‘And there isn’t any, is there?’

‘No, there isn’t, not yet; the funds haven’t been moved out of Ms Phillips’s control, so technically no theft has taken place. Presumption of intent is way short of evidence. That means I can’t take this any further, short of taking leave, getting on a plane and going to Canada myself.’ He hesitated; for a moment I thought he was going to volunteer to do that, but his loyalty to Mike Dylan didn’t stretch that far. ‘Where are you, right now?’ he asked.

‘We’re in Minneapolis; we’ve just seen Wallinger’s mother. She says he’s her prodigal son and she hasn’t a clue where he is. We’re not quite so sure, though. We saw some evidence that a fatted calf might have been killed recently.’ I told him about Tom’s duck.

‘Then you’ve got a choice to make, Oz. Either you stay on the trail of Wallinger, or you go to Vancouver so that Ms Phillips can visit Fairmile and Company in person, identify herself and resume personal control of her funds, cutting Wallinger out of the picture. Or maybe not; maybe you could do both, with you keeping trying to find him and her going straight to Vancouver; but either way she needs to do that right away.’

‘We could always go there and sit tight for a while,’ I said. ‘She could instruct the bank, then we could just wait for him to turn up, as he’s bound to do.’ Then I remembered that I had to be in Las Vegas at the weekend.

I was thinking about this when I heard Prim behind me. ‘ ’Bye,’ she called out. ‘I’m off to be shorn.’

I could have told her to wait, but I just waved airily in her direction and let her go.

‘Okay,’ I said to McLaren. ‘It’s for us to sort out. I really appreciate what you’ve done so far. At the moment I’ve got no leads here, so I think we’ll both go west. If we get there and find that he’s been there since you spoke to VPD, I’ll report it to them, and let you know what’s happened, if anything has.’

‘Yes, do that. The moment he moves money out of that account to his own use he’s committed a crime, and I can get a warrant for his arrest.’

I have this habit of coming up with annoying and complicating thoughts just when I don’t need them. ‘What if he transfers money to Tom?’

‘Without her instruction it would still be a crime.’

‘Good. Thanks again, Inspector.’

I thought about our discussion for a while longer, and then I returned Mark Kravitz’s call.

‘What have you got?’ I asked him, without preamble.

‘Nothing you could hang your hat on, I’m afraid. I haven’t traced Prim’s breakin merchants, and neither have the police. However, I’ve been asking around and I’ve found out that your Mr Wallinger is a bit of a gambler. I wondered whether something like that might be behind it. Turns out that he has an account with a London bookmaker; it’s operated through the Internet, but they have a record of his home address. His debts are settled on a direct debit through an American bank, and the arrangement’s worked in the past. A couple of months ago, just after Wallinger did his runner, the bookie sent in a debit for ten grand’s worth of losers and it rubbered on him.’

‘So you’re guessing that he sent people to collect.’

‘I can’t go and ask him, Oz, but it looks like it.’

‘So they nicked the diamonds to cover Wallinger’s gambling debt?’

Mark grunted. ‘That’s the way it looks. The insured value of the gems will be way more than the debt, but they’ll have to break them up to move them, so overall what they’ll get will be pretty close. Meantime, I assume they’re insured: yes?’

‘I suppose so; she’s not daft.’

‘Then at least Prim isn’t going to lose out of it.’

‘There is that to it.’

‘Any further instructions?’

‘Yes. Do some general asking around. Speak to neighbours, postmen and such; ask if they’ve seen anyone hanging around, and see if you can find out when Wallinger was seen last. I suppose it’s possible that he might have gone back there.’

‘What good will that do?’

‘Probably none; I want to get a handle on his movements, that’s all. It’ll keep Prim happy.’

‘Will do, boss. What’s up where you are? My phone tells me you’re in the US.’

When I updated him on McLaren’s discovery, he laughed. ‘The guy’s not as clever as he thought, is he? It leaves you two a bit stretched, though. Do you want Conrad out there as back-up?’

‘Conrad’s first job is to protect my family. I can manage without him.’

‘If you’re sure. I’ll ask those questions, and contact you again when I’ve got answers.’ I wasn’t sure he’d find any, and if he did whether they’d mean anything was just as uncertain.

I thought about Vancouver and made an executive decision, without consulting Prim. Her deductive processes were muddled by the loss of her son, but I reasoned that if she went to Vancouver and secured her money, that could only strengthen her hand when it came to negotiating. I don’t play cards very often, but when I do, I don’t like the other guy to hold all the aces.

I called Susie again, although it was damn near midnight at home, told her what was happening, and asked her to have Audrey book us on to a flight to Vancouver next day, find us a hotel there for another couple of nights and to call me back, whatever the time, with the details.

With that behind me, I tried to put in some time with the script, but my concentration was shot. I decided that I needed some hard physical time to clear my mind, so I called Reception to book myself into the hotel’s fitness centre and set off down there to punish myself. (For getting so wrapped up in this business? Probably.)

The gym was well equipped, and at that time of day, very quiet; there were a couple of ladies. . force me to guess and I’d have said they were cabin crew. . running on treadmills, but that was it. I did some loosening exercises and then set to work on the heavy apparatus, building up until I was pressing some pretty serious weights with both my arms and my legs. I did a bit of circuit training when I was a kid, but it was the guys at the Global Wrestling Association who got me into it seriously. My buddy Liam Matthews showed me how to increase my strength and endurance without bulking up too much, but over the years I have put on quite a bit of muscle, so now I have to keep working at it to make sure that my body shape stays the same throughout the period of filming a project. If you look closely at some celebrated movies you’ll see the lead player going from fat to slim then back again.

I had been at it for around three-quarters of an hour when I became aware of a uniformed bellboy standing in the doorway, looking at me, hesitantly. I was in the middle of fifty bench presses, so I finished them and then turned towards him. ‘You want me?’

‘If you’re available, Mr Blackstone: there’s a police officer in the foyer, asking if he can see you.’

A cop? What the hell had I done to annoy the local bizzies? I asked myself. ‘Tell him to wait in the lounge,’ I told the boy. ‘I’m just about finished here, but I’ll have to warm down properly, then shower. Offer him a drink and put it on my tab.’

I didn’t hang about, but it took twenty minutes before I was ready to go down. My hair was still wet, but I slicked it back.

The lounge waiter pointed out my visitor as soon as I appeared. He was sitting with his back to me, facing the door and fidgeting like a nervous gun-fighter. There was a beer on the table in front of him, but it was barely touched. He sprang to his feet when I appeared in front of him, and I knew at once who he was. I’d seen his photograph that very afternoon, on Martha Wallinger’s sideboard.

‘You’ll be John the Second,’ I said to him, offering him a handshake. He had a crusher of a grip; he tried it on me, but when I want to, so have I. He was a big guy, though, around six four, and he wasn’t smiling.

‘Lieutenant John Wallinger, MPD,’ he replied, as we sat. ‘Narcotics Unit.’

‘I don’t use them.’

‘Glad to hear it: too many public figures do.’

‘This one has a wife and a couple of kids. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?’ Actually I was wondering what he could do for me, but I thought I’d work up to that.

He went straight to the point, though. ‘I’m concerned about your visit to my mother, Mr Blackstone. It’s alarmed her, and I don’t like that.’

‘I’m sorry if that’s the case, but presumably she told you why I called.’

‘She did, and if it’s true that you and Mr Grayson have some significant work for Paul, that’ll be excellent for him but, to be honest, that strikes me as a smokescreen.’

‘Why should that be?’

‘Because I’ve checked you out since my mother called me, sir, and there’s a couple of things that don’t sit square.’

‘Such as?’

‘The lady you had with you today, she wasn’t your wife, was she?’

‘I never said that she was.’

His eyes hardened, letting me see what Minneapolis drug-dealers were up against. ‘Don’t play games with me, sir. I checked you up on several websites; your wife’s name is Susan, formerly Susan Gantry. Her photograph appears on some of them, and she does not fit the description of the woman you took to meet my mother. So who was that?’

‘The websites you saw must have been authorised; they don’t discuss my previous marriages. My first wife was killed in a domestic accident; my second wife, Primavera, and I divorced. That’s who I took to meet your mother; Mrs Blackstone all right, just not the current model, that’s all. They’ve got a photocopy of her passport at Reception; I’m surprised you didn’t check it out.’

He let slip a flash of a smile. ‘I did. I wanted you to tell me about it, that’s all.’

‘Right, so now I have. Where do we go from here?’

‘I want you to explain to me just what the hell you really are doing here. The thing that you said to my mother that really upset her was about my brother. You said he told you that he’d got an English girl pregnant.’

‘If we’re being strictly accurate I said British, not English.’

‘What’s the difference?’

‘Imagine me calling you a Texan. British, but not English; in fact she was Scottish, the same as me, the same as Primavera. In fact, it was Primavera.’

His back straightened in his chair as he stared at me. ‘He told you that?’

It was time for a small confession. ‘No. The fact is I’ve never met your brother; it was Prim who told me all about it.’

The big man gasped. ‘That’s unbelievable. . Paul?’

I decided to give him the whole story. ‘They’ve been living in London for a couple of years. Prim had a son, called Tom; she thought your brother was a stockbroker. She had so much confidence in him that she gave him control over her investments. A little under three months ago, they vanished. So did Paul. So did Tom. We’ve come here to find him.’

I could see that he was stunned. ‘That’s amazing,’ he murmured. He looked up at me. ‘All the same, Mr Blackstone, you’ve come to the wrong place. My brother hasn’t been here. Didn’t my mother tell you that?’

‘Yes, she did. But what if I was to tell you that we have evidence that he has?’

The hard look he’d shot me before was a baby beside the one that came into his eyes. ‘Then you’d be calling my mom a liar, mister, and that would be a very serious mistake on your part. In fact, it would be liable to make me forget about the badge I carry, and take you for a walk out back.’

In such circumstances, I’ve always found that the best course of action is to smile; so I did. ‘Are you threatening me, Lieutenant?’ I asked him.

‘Call it a promise,’ he growled.

‘Well, John,’ I said, ‘I’ve had promises like that made to me before in my life; not many, but some. And yet I don’t remember one ever being kept. We can go for a walk out back if you like, but big and all as you are, I promise you, I’ll walk back in first.’

His eyes didn’t alter, and I kept my smile fixed on him; we had a bit of a stand-off going, and I really didn’t fancy getting into a brawl with a cop, even if he did look far too straight a guy to stand a chance against some of the tricks I’ve been taught by my GWA pals. So I decided to offer him a way out.

‘I wouldn’t dream of calling your mother a liar,’ I told him. ‘However, I think you should consider the possibility that your brother might have been back here without her knowledge, or yours. How does that hang with you?’

He took a deep breath. ‘I’ll consider it.’

‘Can I ask you something?’ I continued, quickly. He nodded. ‘Why were you so certain he wouldn’t show up here? And why were you so surprised when I told you what he’d been up to?’

‘Mr Blackstone,’ he replied, ‘I’m a police officer, so I’m used to asking questions not answering them. All I’ll say is that the Wallinger family does not wash its dirty linen even in private, far less in public. We’re Christian people with Christian values, and Paul simply did not live up to them. You misread my reactions: your accusations of deceit and dishonesty don’t shock me at all.’

I still didn’t believe his mother, but him, I did. ‘Where should I look for him, John, if not here?’

‘I don’t know. I’d guess California; if he’s still pursuing his dream he’ll probably go back there, now that he’s got the sort of money that would support a lifestyle there.’

‘He doesn’t; not yet at any rate. I think he might be setting up a trade: the money for Tom.’

‘But …’

‘But what? Kidnap? He’s the kid’s father.’

The big man frowned. ‘Mr Blackstone,’ he murmured, ‘I want you to apologise to your ex-wife on behalf of my mother and myself for my brother’s behaviour. I want you to give me a number where I can contact you. I’ve got resources here that you haven’t, and access to the means of finding an American citizen in his own country. I’ll look for him, and when I find him, wherever he is, I’ll put you on his trail. He deserves whatever’s coming to him, and you strike me as the man to make sure he gets it.’

I gave him one of my personal cards, and took his in return. ‘That’ll get me, any time. I’m gone from here tomorrow morning, but I’ll be in the States for another two weeks and more.’

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t approach my mother again. Leave this entirely with me.’

‘As you wish. There is one thing you could do for me right now, though.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Suggest somewhere to eat tonight; we did Gluek’s yesterday.’

‘Try Murray’s, twenty-six South Sixth Street; it’s our local celebrity restaurant. You better book, though.’

I thanked him and walked with him to the entrance. ‘There’s one more thing I got to ask you,’ he said, as we reached it. ‘Since you’re travelling with your ex-wife, how come you’re in the same room?’

‘A clerical error on their part: no kidding. And they promised me discretion, too.’

He grinned. ‘My badge overrides that.’

I took his advice about the restaurant. Our discreet friend from the checkin fiasco was back on duty; I considered rattling his cage about spilling the beans to the lieutenant, but simply asked him to make a booking for us.

Prim was back from the hairdresser’s when I got back to our room, standing in the dressing area sorting out something for the evening. The tint was gone from her hair, it was blonde again, and the same length as it had been when we met for the first time, if not quite so sun-bleached and a lot less ruffled. I’d forgotten how brown her eyes were. She looked like herself again: it was like stepping back eight years.

I must have been staring; my mouth was maybe even a little open, just a little. ‘Will this do?’ she asked, coyly. There’s nobody does coy like Prim, especially when her shirt’s unbuttoned and hanging apart.

‘Will it ever,’ I heard myself say, then found myself taking a step towards her. I got hold of myself in time and simply put my hands on her shoulders, admiring her makeover. ‘Yes,’ I told her, ‘that does more for me than a blow-job any day.’

‘You poor, sad old man.’ She laughed.

The restaurant lived up to its billing. Murray’s house specialty is a thing called the Silver Butter Knife steak; I’m not sure where it got the name, but the way they pitch it at you, it’s more or less compulsory, so we both had it. I was glad I’d earned mine in the gym.

Once we’d finished, and the strolling violinist had done his thing, taken his tip and strolled on, I told her that we were heading for Vancouver next day, together, and why. I’d been worried that she might have seen it as a distraction, but she understood the importance of the move, and the leverage it would give her when it came to getting Tom back.

She misted over again when I mentioned his name. ‘I wonder how he is, Oz,’ she whispered. ‘And how will he be when we find him? He’s been gone so long, he’ll have grown. Will he even know me?’

‘Of course he will. I promise you, he will; I can be away from my kids for weeks at a time, yet whenever I get back they tear me apart.’

‘But this is such a big chunk of his life.’

‘Prim, honey, you could have been separated at birth and I reckon he’d still know you.’

She gave me a strange, quizzical look. ‘You’re sure of that, are you?’

‘I reckon so.’

It was time to give her something positive to think about, so I told her about my visit from Lieutenant John Wallinger the Second. By the time I was finished she was radiating a mixture of excitement and indignation. ‘He came to scare you off?’ she exclaimed.

‘He may have come to try that, but I doubt it. John’s just an honest guy, and he’d die for his mom.’

‘But she’s a liar! We know that.’

I held up a hand. ‘Maybe, just maybe, what I suggested was right. Maybe Paul and Tom arrived in Minneapolis while she was away. There’s a concierge in that block; maybe he talked him into handing over a key, and spent a night or two there until he was ready to move on. It’s not that crazy an idea: the guy’s a con-man, remember.’

‘Mmm.’ She didn’t sound convinced.

‘Whatever, and whatever the family skeletons might be, the important thing is that we’ve got his brother. . his policeman brother. . playing for our team, and promising to hand him over on a plate. What more can we ask for at this stage? Think of where we were after we’d seen Martha … no-bloody-where.’

‘I suppose. But if I couldn’t trust Paul, are you sure we can trust his brother?’

‘I’ve looked him in the eye. I’m sure.’ I hoped that I was right.

She seemed mollified. I paid the bill, and we walked the short distance back to the hotel. . downtown Minneapolis is so compact that there don’t seem to be any long distances. I told the manager we’d be checking out in the morning. There was no message for me about travel details, but it was just a little too early for that. I made sure that whenever a call came in it would be put through, and we took the lift to the twentieth.

There was none of the gauche awkwardness of the night before. We had come to terms with the situation, plus there were no physical secrets between the two of us. We were friends rooming together and, as I saw it, that was that. We sat in the darkness and looked out at the city lights for a while, then Prim went through to the sleeping area and returned, minus the light summer dress she’d been wearing, and unwrapping our joint pyjamas. I didn’t turn my eyes away this time.

I gazed at her, almost nostalgically, as she picked at the packaging, taking in the familiar shape of her body. It was unchanged, apart from the bigger bust, and something else I noticed. She caught me looking, and smiled. ‘A present from my son,’ she murmured. ‘Stretch marks; not a damn thing I can do about them.’

I laughed. ‘Your Tom’s a generous kid.’

She caught my meaning. ‘These? I thought they’d go back to normal size after I stopped feeding him, but they never have.’ She dropped the pyjamas on to a chair, crumpled the wrapping, and unclipped her bra. ‘Gross,’ she said.

‘I preferred the old models,’ I admitted, ‘but those have a certain charm to them. Large, my dear, but not gross in any way; you’ve got the width of shoulders to carry them.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Take a last look, then, and wish them a fond farewell.’ She picked up the pyjama jacket, and pulled it over her head, without unbuttoning it. ‘Goodnight,’ she said, then leaned over me, kissed me like a sister, on the cheek, and went through to bed.