“Is that meant to reassure me?”
“You seem annoyed by my presence.”
“How did you find me? Seriously.”
“You mentioned to my driver that you were writing a book on Tracy Benn. This is the nearest library to where you live. I made an educated guess that you would work on your book here rather than in your apartment.”
“What if I preferred to work in a coffee shop, genius?”
“Then I would have been unlucky. Yet, here you are and here I am.”
“So you interrogate your driver to find out what I said to him, work out that I might be here, and then what? Spend hours waiting for me to turn up?”
“Precisely.”
“That’s creepy.”
“Then I’ll leave.”
“No.” She says it too fast and I know, in this moment, that she wants me as much as I want her. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude. It’s lovely to see you again.”
“Would you mind if I sit down?”
“Please.”
I take the seat opposite hers and run my eyes along the spines of her books. “What made you pick Miss Benn as the subject of your book?”
“I love her portraits. They capture something deep and internal that even her subjects don’t know is there.”
“I sat for her once, years ago.”
“Seriously?”
“I have the portrait in my bedroom at home. You should come and see it sometime.”
“Smooth,” she says but she’s smiling. “Nice pick up line.”
“Thank you. Are you free now to come to a private viewing?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve got an hour to do this and then I’m supposed to be helping my roommate find an office.”
“She lost one? That was careless.”
“She’s trying to set up her own cleaning agency and she needs a cheap office to work from.”
“She can’t work from your apartment?”
“One, I’m not supposed to have anyone staying. Two, if she starts running a business from our place, we’ll really be in the shit.”
I reach across and take her notepad, turning to the next blank page. Taking my pen from my pocket, I write down an address.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Come and see me here tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock sharp.”