Private London

Chapter 24

I looked at the caller display on my mobile phone.

Whatever my ex-wife wanted to tell me it wasn’t going to be good news. I ignored the hostile glares from the other diners, then clicked the button.

‘Dan Carter,’ I said pretending not to know who was calling.

I listened to what Kirsty was saying for a moment and her words took a moment or two to register. I mumbled something or other thanking her for letting me know, and clicked the phone closed.

‘We have to leave,’ I said. I stood up, pulled out my wallet and chucked a bunch of fifty-pound notes on the table. Our main course hadn’t yet arrived but I had suddenly lost all appetite. I felt sick to my stomach. ‘Did you drive here?’ I asked Alison.

‘No. Strangely enough, I don’t usually order a bottle of champagne if I’m driving,’ she said dryly. ‘What’s going on?’

I shook my head and slipped my jacket on. ‘I need to get a taxi,’ I said simply.

Alison hurried after me and slid her arm through mine. ‘What’s wrong, Dan?’ she pressed, the concern clear in her voice.

‘Everything,’ I replied.