Chapter 1
Monday 21st May 2018
Isobel McKenzie stopped walking and placed one hand on her hip. “Are you here to make sure I get on the plane?”
A step later her escort stopped too. The stream of people behind them flowed out around the sudden obstruction.
“I thought –”
“You thought I might chicken out.”
A young girl slowed, interested in this unfolding drama but her mother, oblivious, pulled her on impatiently before she heard the reply.
“I thought you might be nervous and appreciate the support.”
Isobel swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. Dave touched her arm and turned her towards a café. Isobel found a table, wiped her eyes and took some deep breaths. She watched her older brother as he busied himself getting coffee. There were only three years between them and, while that made him only forty-two, he seemed older. His six-foot-two frame was straight and imposing and his dark hair had only a smattering of grey at the temples. Isobel was a whole foot shorter and was inclined to curves. Her hair was dark but now sported an ash front.
Dave brought the coffees back to the table.
“I’m sorry,” Isobel said. “I am nervous. Very.”
Dave nodded. “I encouraged you to take this trip. Peter is a good guy. I’ve known him a long time. I trust him. He asked for your help and since you’re not working at the moment . . .”
Isobel played with her spoon. “Maybe I won’t be able to help him.”
“Maybe not.” He shrugged. “Look – he wants your opinion on a case. He obviously thinks you might see something that he’s missing. If you can’t see anything, fine, he gets his mind put to rest and you get a couple of days in London. How bad is that?” He relaxed back in his chair.
Isobel shrugged. In the face of such logic there was no room for anxiety and doubt. She wrinkled her brow. “I know you’ve been worried about me but I just need some space, some time out.”
Dave leant forward. “I understand, but I thought this trip could help you remember some of who you are, what you can do, what you could do again – that’s all.” Sensing her withdrawal, he sat back again.
Isobel took a deep breath, exhaled and then nodded.
Dave reached out and squeezed her hand. “It’s only a few days in London. It might help you.”
“I’ve never consulted on a legal case before. What can someone who listens to people’s problems do on a legal case?”
“I don’t know.”
Isobel raised an eyebrow.
“Remember, Peter knows you from college here,” he said. “He knows that you studied psychology and he asked me a lot of questions about the other things you’ve done. I told him about your work with addiction, with couples separating, divorcing and getting back together and with all sorts of abuse. Obviously he wouldn’t tell me about the case, but he said he wanted an outside opinion from someone who knew people, not a legal one.” He frowned. “I don’t think he’s done this before either.”
Isobel made a face, then sipped her coffee.
He hurried on. “And, I think he wanted someone he could trust because he’s in uncharted territory too. Your qualifications as a psychotherapist speak for themselves but I think it’s really your experience that interests him.”
Isobel nodded. “We’ll see.”
“Hopefully it won’t be too taxing. Make sure you rest.”
She grinned. “Stop fussing. I’m going to mind myself.”
Dave stood up. “We’d better get you through security or you’re going to miss your flight. Ready?”
Isobel nodded.
“Let’s get you airborne then.”
Just over an hour later Isobel landed in Heathrow. It was a simple matter to get the shuttle from the airport and the Tube to Hammersmith where she checked into her accommodation. As part of her consultancy expenses, Peter had offered to book her a room in a hotel convenient to his office but she preferred to stay in the Temple Lodge Club where she had stayed before. She loved this place. It was like an oasis in the middle of London, with organic food and cotton sheets and a marvellous vegetarian restaurant at the bottom of the garden. She had always felt comfortable here and this familiarity might make these next few days and this new assignment more manageable.
She unpacked and, since she was here working, changed into a pair of black trousers, a blouse and a jacket. She grinned at herself in the mirror. Now she looked like a professional. Whatever help Peter expected with this case she could fake it until she made it. She straightened her collar, squared her shoulders and, with a last encouraging look at herself, she set off.
She walked to Hammersmith Tube station. She looked at the Tube map, at the different-coloured lines, all of them different paths, different journeys. Her life had had a few line-switches recently and that had been very challenging and stressful. For the city she needed the District line. It was green – maybe that was a good omen that things were moving forward.
Chapter 2
The office on Queen Street was a very impressive concrete and glass edifice. An efficient lady at the reception desk directed Isobel to the third floor. Stepping out of the lift, she saw more glass doors ahead which led through to an open area where two women were sitting at desks typing. They both looked up – a lady with white hair who after a cursory glance resumed typing, and a younger blonde woman.
Isobel smiled slightly. “I’m here to see Peter Wright.”
“Isobel McKenzie?” said the blonde, getting to her feet.
Isobel nodded.
“I’m Patricia, Peter’s secretary.”
She was taller than Isobel, about five foot six, and slim. She gave off a general aura of being efficient and capable.
“Peter is expecting you. Please come this way.”
As Isobel followed her down the corridor, she turned and said, “Was your flight all right?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Here we are.” Patricia swung the door open and ushered Isobel in. “Ms McKenzie,” she said then withdrew, closing the door.
The room was not huge, about the size of an average sitting room, with a desk facing the door. Behind the desk was a window letting in as much light as the buildings around allowed. There were two chairs for clients, filing cabinets lined up on the righthand side and above them shelves of what looked like legal reference books.
The man at the desk rose. Peter Wright was tall, six foot, with short blond hair and tanned. He held himself with an easy confidence yet Isobel detected a level of stress and uncertainty beneath his urbane manner. He stepped out from behind the desk and held out his hand. Isobel extended hers and found it cupped in both of his.
“Isobel, thank you so much for coming. I realise that this has all happened rather fast.”
“Yes.”
“Sit down, sit down.”
The chair was surprisingly comfortable.
Peter hesitated and then sat back behind the desk. “I remember you from when I was at college. I think we met a handful of times when I was out with Dave.”
Isobel nodded. “I remember you too.”