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.But perhaps you’d like some for later?’‘No, really,’ he said more brusquely than he’d meant to.Isabel paused, the packet in her hand.Then, with the same insistence as before, she said, ‘Tom’s just in a sulk.It won’t last.He’ll be here tomorrow, I’m sure of it.’‘I put him under too much pressure,’ Hugh said gloomily.‘I don’t know what the hell I was thinking of, backing him into a corner like that.I should have played it straight, told him I’d have to resign and left him to make up his own mind.Now he’s probably on self-destruct, drinking himself into oblivion.’‘But you’ve given him every chance, Hugh.You’ve explained it to him.He might be suffering from trauma, but he can still think for himself.’‘Not when he’s stressed out he can’t.’‘Well, if you ask me he’s a lot tougher than you give him credit for.A lot more—’ She broke off abruptly as if to choose a kinder word.‘More rational.’At the doors of the Royal Courts they paused to find their umbrellas.‘That stupid letter,’ Hugh sighed.‘I wish I’d never read the bloody thing.’‘But people who write letters like that don’t give up, do they? There’ll be more letters where that one came from.’‘You think so?’‘Well, they don’t write out of the goodness of their hearts, do they? They write to cause trouble, and trouble doesn’t go away.’Hugh shivered suddenly and hunched his shoulders against the cold.‘Here, why don’t you take this anyway, just in case?’ Isabel pressed the packet of Night Nurse into his hand.Hugh held it up and pretended to read the label.‘I thought you didn’t believe in this sort of stuff.’‘It’ll help you sleep.’‘Help me pass out, more like.’ He slipped it into his coat pocket, to join the vitamin pastille she’d given him on Monday.Putting up his umbrella, he said, ‘The awful thing is, I don’t even know where Tom’s staying.I can’t even go and find out if he’s all right.’‘Well, that’s Tom all over, isn’t it? Not wanting anyone to know where he is.’‘But I should have got his address.’‘I’m not sure he’d have told you.I asked him three times for contact details and he kept saying he didn’t have them.’‘Perhaps he didn’t, not till the last minute.’‘Oh, I think he had them all right,’ said Isabel quietly.‘He just likes to keep things back.’Two days ago Hugh would have challenged this remark, but now he could only gaze out into the rain and wonder what else Tom might be holding back.The faded blue front door swung open to reveal the substantial figure of Mike Gabbay.‘For God’s sake!’ he said.‘How are you doing, you old pagan?’ Throwing an arm over Hugh’s shoulder he gave him a bear hug.‘God, this rain! Here, give me those!’ Hanging up Hugh’s coat and umbrella, he urged him deeper into the house.‘How long has it been, for heaven’s sake? Two years? Three? Too bloody long anyway.And look at you’ – he threw out an accusatory hand – ‘you must tell me how you do it.Sneak off to the gym? Practise some kind of Celtic witchcraft? Take a Welsh potion?’‘I don’t do anything.’‘What – nothing?’‘Just the garden.And a bit of walking.’‘No justice!’ Mike exclaimed contentedly.Mike’s weight battle had been lost in childhood, he had been bald since his early thirties, but his dark eyes, set in the plump smooth-skinned face, glowed with a keen intelligence and love of life.The two of them had been articled to the same firm, but while Hugh had taken the well-travelled route into high street law Mike had set up on his own in what was then the frontier territory of asylum, immigration and human rights, an area which, he liked to complain proudly, was as badly paid then as it was now.‘No justice,’ Mike repeated.‘How’s Lizzie?’‘Very well, thanks.’‘Glad to hear it! Come and see Rachel.She’s in the kitchen.’The house was Victorian and terraced and had the lived-in look of long occupation, with well-trodden carpets and bulging bookshelves and chipped paint.‘What do you think of this?’ asked Mike, indicating the kitchen, which in stark contrast to the rest of the house had undergone a make-over, with modern units, halogen lighting and a tiled floor.‘Looks very nice.’Rachel broke off from her cooking to greet Hugh.She taught French and greeted him in the French style, with four rapid kisses to the cheeks.‘My wife demanded a new kitchen after twenty-four years of marriage.I ask you!’ said Mike in mock dejection.‘Fact is, we needed a project.You know how it is when the kids disappear.’Rachel shot Hugh a quick smile which suggested that Mike’s need for a project had been rather greater than hers.Mike pressed his hands together and said urgently, ‘Now, what’ll it be? I’ve got a nice unassuming little Bordeaux.’ He was already reaching for the bottle with one hand, a corkscrew with the other.‘Bought it on the off-chance ten years ago and it’s done me proud ever since.’ Mike had always loved his wine, and when Hugh thought back to their days as articled clerks he always thought of suppers at Mike’s flat off the Harrow Road, with spaghetti bolognese washed down by Mike’s latest find, and meals at cheap restaurants which suddenly became rather less cheap after the discovery of something worth trying on the wine list.But if Hugh had sometimes had to survive the rest of the month on fish fingers and baked beans, he had always considered it a good bargain.In another fluid movement Mike placed three wine glasses and a bowl of cashew nuts on the kitchen table.‘First glass for the cook,’ he declared, pouring it rapidly.‘Wise plan,’ said Rachel.Mike waved Hugh to a chair at the kitchen table and sat opposite.‘Right, young Hugh Gwynne,’ he said, filling their glasses.‘A complete update, if you will.And no time off for good behaviour.’‘Not sure there’s much to tell,’ Hugh said [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]