"Well, actually," he said, kneeling in front of me and taking my hands, "it's interesting you should say that. I've been asked to go to LA for five months. To work on the Mexican Calabreras case."
"What?" It was all getting worse and worse.
"Don't look so traumatized. I was going to ask you ... Will you come with me?"
I thought hard. I thought about Jude and Shazzer, and Agn?s B on Westbourne Grove, and cappuccinos in Coins, and Oxford Street.
"Bridget?" he said gently. "It's very warm and sunny there and they have swimming pools."
"Oh," I said, eyes darting interestedly from one side to the other.
"I'll wash up," he promised.
I thought about bullets and fish, and drug smugglers and Richard Finch and my mum and the hole in the wall and the Christmas cards.
"You can smoke in the house."
I looked at him, so earnest and solemn and sweet and thought that wherever he was, I didn't want to be without him.
"Yes," I said happily, "I'd love to come."
Friday 19 December
I I a.m. Hurrah! Am going to America to start again, like the early pioneers. The land of the free. Was really good fun last night. Mark and me got out scissors again and did festive topiary turning tree into tiny Xmas cracker. Also we have made list and are going to do shopping tomorrow. Love Christmas. Celebration of good fun life, surely not perfection. Hurrah! Will be fantastic in California with sunshine and millions of self-help books - though will eschew all dating books - and Zen and sushi and all healthy stuff like green ... Ooh goody, telephone!
"Er, Bridget. It's Mark." His voice did not sound good. "There's been a bit of a change of plan. The Calabreras case has been put back till June. But there is another job I quite fancy taking on and, er, I was wondering ...
"Yes?" I said suspiciously. "How would you feel about. . ."
"About what?"
"Thailand?"
Think will just have a little glass of wine and a cigarette.
THE END