V. McDermid - Final Edition

‘Coming up, Sophie,’ he replied, opening a tall glass-fronted fridge. ‘What’s all this, then? Buying classy bottles of wine for strange women? Good gossip! Wait till the Sisters of Treachery get to hear about this!’

Sophie grinned as she paid for the wine and picked it up. ‘If they do, I’ll know who told them, Cosmo,’ she replied. ‘This is an old friend of mine, Lindsay Gordon. Lindsay, meet Cosmo Mackay. He owns this disreputable dive.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Lindsay. Any friend of Sophie’s stands a good chance of becoming one of my best customers. She’s never introduced me to a teetotaller yet! Are you eating tonight, by the way?’ he asked.

‘You bet,’ said Sophie.

Cosmo handed her a menu. ‘I’ll take your order in a minute. There’s plenty of tables in the back room.’ He turned away to serve another customer.

‘What was all that about?’ Lindsay demanded. ‘Who in God’s name are the Sisters of Treachery?’

‘It’s a little political joke. Cosmo’s a member of the same Constituency Labour Party as Helen and Rosalind. The party’s been split over lots of issues lately, so there’s been a lot of intriguing going on. One of the right-wingers was having a go at Helen and Rosalind one night and he called them the Sisters of Treachery. The pair of them thought it was hysterical, and the name became a sort of in-joke among the left,’ Sophie explained. ‘Now, what do you want to eat?’

Lindsay studied the menu with delight. There were all the traditional favourites like black pudding with scrambled eggs, mutton stovies and haggis. But there were also vegetarian dishes, and new variations on old themes, like spiced chicken stovies – a mixture of potatoes, onions and spiced chicken pieces. Just reading the list made her mouth water. What a change from pasta and pizza, she thought happily. Eventually she settled on haggis with mashed potatoes and turnips.

While they were waiting for Cosmo to return, Sophie turned to Lindsay and asked, ‘Have you given any more thought to what you’re going to do for a living?’

Lindsay shrugged. ‘Not really. I don’t think I can go back to being a journo, though, even if they wanted me. My heart just isn’t in it any more.’

‘You could always become a private detective. After all, you’ve solved two murders so far. I can just see you with the snap-brimmed trilby and the bottle of Jack Daniels in the desk drawer. And just think of the perks! All those beautiful blondes falling at your feet,’ Sophie teased.

Lindsay pulled a face and shook her head. ‘No thanks. I’m looking for a quiet life these days.’

‘You came to the wrong place then,’ Cosmo interrupted. ‘What can I get you ladies – sorry, women – to eat?’

Having given their order to Cosmo, Sophie steered a path through the crowded bar towards a doorway at the rear. Lindsay followed her into a remarkable room. The far wall and the sloping roof were made of glass, and the other walls were covered from floor to ceiling with plants trained over trellises. Chattering groups of people sat on white garden furniture with brightly coloured cushions. Before she had a chance to take it all in, she cannoned into Sophie who had stopped dead.

Sophie turned on her heel and tried to usher Lindsay out of the room. But she was too late. Lindsay had already spotted the reason for her abrupt, awkward halt. Sitting at a table on the far side of the room were two women, deeply engrossed in conversation. It was obvious to the most casual observer that they were a couple. She had never seen the slender blonde before. But the woman sitting opposite her was as familiar to Lindsay as her own face in the mirror. She felt her stomach lurch and fought the desperate urge to be sick. Without even realising she was doing it, she shrugged off Sophie’s restraining arm and purposefully crossed the room.

Neither of the two women registered her presence till she was only feet from their table. Even then, it was the blonde who looked up first. When she saw Lindsay, a series of reactions flashed across her face in a moment. Curiosity was overtaken by bewilderment, bewilderment by shock, and shock by a strange mixture of relief and amusement. Her companion was slower to realise they had company, since Lindsay had approached from behind her. She turned in her chair and her eyes widened. ‘Lindsay!’ she gasped, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet. She gave a nervous half-smile, apparently incapable of further speech.

‘Hello, Cordelia. Fancy meeting you here. That explains why I couldn’t find you in London,’ Lindsay said with ice in her voice.

The blonde woman got to her feet and extended a slim hand. ‘Hello, Lindsay. We’ve never met before, but I’ve heard a lot about you …’

‘I bet you have,’ Lindsay interrupted savagely, ignoring the outstretched hand.

Undaunted, the other continued. ‘I’m Claire Ogilvie. Jackie – Jackie Mitchell, that is, told me a lot about you. That’s how I came to meet Cordelia.’

‘How fascinating,’ Lindsay said with heavy sarcasm, mentally slotting Claire into place. Jackie’s girlfriend, the lawyer. Portia with a Porsche. Cordelia had obviously had her fill of working-class heroes and reverted to type, Lindsay thought furiously. In a cold voice she said, ‘Well, don’t let us interrupt your intimate little tête-à-tête. Come on, Sophie,’ she added, turning away. ‘We’ll find somewhere more congenial to eat.’

‘No, wait,’ said Cordelia, finally finding her tongue. ‘Don’t go, Lindsay.’

‘Why not? You’ve obviously not been counting the minutes till I got back, have you?’

‘I think you’re being a little unfair, Lindsay,’ Claire said. ‘Why don’t you calm down and sit down and we can discuss this like adults?’

‘Discuss what?’ Lindsay demanded, her voice rising. ‘Discuss your relationship with the woman I have just discovered is my ex-lover?’

‘Lindsay,’ Sophie said in the soothing but firm voice she’d developed years ago to deal with drunks in casualty. ‘Cool it. Either let’s go now, or else sit down and have a drink.’

Lindsay, struggling with a mixture of anger, disappointment and hurt, abruptly sat down, followed by the other three.

‘When did you get back? And where have you been?’ Cordelia asked. Even to herself, her questions sounded empty and irrelevant. But she didn’t know what else to say. Seeing Lindsay again so unexpectedly had left her floundering in a welter of emotions that she could neither separate nor identify.

‘I got back a week ago,’ Lindsay replied in weary tones. ‘I tried to phone a couple of times en route , but I kept getting the answering machine, and it didn’t seem the appropriate way to break the silence. When I got to London, I went straight to the house, but you weren’t there. I rang your mother, but she didn’t seem to know where you were. Your agent said you’d gone away for a couple of weeks, she wasn’t sure where either, so rather than hang about in London on the off-chance that you’d be back, I drove up to Yorkshire, gave Deborah her van back and collected my MG. Then I went to see my parents and came back to Glasgow. I’ve been in Italy. By myself, which is more than I can say for you,’ she added bitterly.

‘My God, you’ve got a nerve,’ Cordelia said. ‘You vanish off the face of the earth for nine bloody months and you expect to come home like the prodigal daughter and find everything exactly the way it was?’

‘Obviously I was wrong, wasn’t I? You knew exactly why I went to ground. For God’s sake, I left a letter explaining what the hell was going on. And I sent you a card to let you know I was safe.’

‘One poxy card in nine months! I could recite it from memory. “Weather stunning. Natives friendly. Hope to get over to London to see you soon, but life is hectic right now. Be patient!”’ Cordelia flashed back sarcastically.