Deadline

Epilogue: Two

Days Later

It was a cool, drizzly day, very different to the Indian summer of the past ten days or so, and Mike Bolt and Andrea Devern were standing on Hampstead Heath, looking up in the direction of Kenwood House.

Andrea looked good. She was dressed in a three-quarter-length raincoat, her long auburn hair flowing over the collar. Her eyes were bright and alive in a way Bolt hadn't seen since their affair all those years ago.

'I really didn't want to do it,' she was saying to him now. 'It's no consolation, I know, but I was under huge amounts of pressure. Will you forgive me?'

Bolt looked at her. Andrea Devern had put him through hell, there was no doubt about it, but she'd also had one of the best reasons going for doing so. The safety of her daughter. Not his, unfortunately, he knew that now, but he could still sympathize. Today was the first time the two of them had seen each other since the chaotic aftermath of the ransom drop, but what should perhaps have been an awkward meeting felt anything but.

But then, Bolt thought ruefully, Andrea has always had a way of making me feel good.

He smiled. 'Sure, I forgive you. Maybe I'd have done the same in your position.'

'No, you wouldn't. You're not like that. You're a good man, Mike. You've got too much integrity.'

He shrugged. 'Maybe. But we all do desperate things sometimes. I'd like to see Emma at some point, too. I know she's not mine, but it would be nice to see how she's getting on.'

'I'll get her to call you when she's feeling better. She's been sleeping most of the past few days.'

'But she's OK?'

'Yeah, she's doing well. She's a fighter, just like me. She's upset about Pat. She liked him.'

'How do you feel about it?'

'I've shed my tears. He wasn't such a bad bloke, and I'm glad he didn't betray either me or Emma. That's a comfort.'

'Good.'

'And what about your colleague, Turner? The one who was at my place. How's he getting on?'

'He's out of intensive care and they say he should make a full recovery, but he's going to be in hospital for a while yet.'

'I hope he's all right. He seemed a nice guy.'

Neither of them mentioned Jack Doyle. He was still in a bad way in hospital but Bolt had little doubt he'd survive. Jack wasn't the kind to give up. He'd always been too bloody-minded for that, although he had little to look forward to when and if he did finally make it.

'And how about you, Mike?' asked Andrea. 'How are you managing? What's going to happen about your suspension?'

'I don't know yet. I'm still waiting to hear what action they're planning to take against me.'

'They shouldn't take any. You were a bloody hero. If it wasn't for you . . .'

There was no need for her to finish the sentence. They both knew what she meant.

He wasn't sure that he had been a hero, though. More likely he'd been a fool, and it was foolishness that still might cost him his job. But he didn't regret his actions, had even stopped worrying about the whole thing these past couple of days. What would happen would happen anyway, so it was easier just to think about something else.

They were silent for a moment, each watching the other. Conscious that there was still something there. Finally, Bolt spoke again.

'The reason I wanted to meet you today was because I had a question.'

Andrea looked wary. 'OK . . .'

'That day we met in the West End all those years ago, when we went back to your hotel. That wasn't, you know . . .'

'What?'

He suddenly felt embarrassed to bring it up.

'It was genuine coincidence, right? You didn't know I was going to be there?'

'You asked me that before. A long time ago.'

'And now I'm asking it again.'

Andrea smiled a little sadly. 'Have I been that bad to you that you could believe it wasn't?'

'I just wanted to hear it from your own lips again. Now that this is all over.'

'It was genuine coincidence, Mike. I promise.'

She'd lied to him before, but he chose to believe her this time. Perhaps it was easier that way.

'So, what now?' she asked, and there was an element of invitation in her hazel eyes.

He'd thought a lot about this these past couple of days, and hadn't known the answer until he'd arrived here today and seen Andrea as she should have been – happy, attractive and spirited.

'Well?'

'We do the same thing we did fifteen years ago, Andrea.' He looked her in the eyes and smiled. 'We part company.'

Her expression didn't change. 'Are you sure? I thought maybe there was still something there between us. Something that might be worth exploring.'

He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, lingering just a second over her scent, wanting to hold her but not knowing where it would end if he did, before moving away.

'Good luck, Andrea,' he said.

The invitation remained in her eyes for another second, then faded as she accepted the inevitable.

'And to you, Mike, and to you.'

He turned and left her there, striding away purposefully, wishing perhaps that things could have been different – that Emma was his daughter, that Andrea genuinely loved him, that they could end up as the kind of happy family he and Mikaela had never had the chance to create. But knowing too that he'd made the right decision. It was time to make a clean break with the past, start looking towards the future.

And where better to start than with a twenty-eight year-old artist from St Ives with raven hair and a dirty laugh.

As he walked out on to Spaniards Road, he took out his mobile and called Jenny Byfleet, hoping that she was in a forgiving mood.

THE END