A Small Fortune by Rosie Dastgir

Author:Rosie Dastgir [Dastgir, Rosie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101585696
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2012-05-24T00:00:00+00:00

18

When Harris spotted her standing uncertainly amid a swarm of tourists beside a rubbish-strewn table, he instantly regretted the choice of rendezvous spot. He had suggested they meet outside the café before touring the park and grounds around the National Maritime Museum, not guessing it might be quite so teeming and unkempt.

“Harris,” she said, holding her hands out to greet him. “How nice to see you again.”

“You too,” he replied, glancing around at the half-eaten baguettes and plastic cups that lay scattered on the tables. “I’m sorry. This isn’t the nicest place for you to be waiting. Please forgive me for being late.”

She gave her tinkling laugh, dismissing the apology. “It’s fine, Harris, honestly.”

He noticed she was dressed optimistically for the weather, in a woefully thin jacket that had seen better days, and open sandals that revealed her crimson-painted toenails. Her hair was pulled into an elegant French pleat, and she touched it now and again, to check that it was secure. He found himself longing to embrace her properly, yet the memory of her brittle voice on the phone resurfaced and he pushed the longing aside.

“Come, Farrah,” he said. “Let’s get some coffee inside, shall we? Or would you prefer tea?”

It was a little too early for lunch, but the smells of roasting meat and the clatter of cooks behind the scenes made Dr. Farrah suggest that they return after a walk around the park. The Sunday lunch menu tempted them both.

“Are you sure?” Harris said uncertainly, sneaking a look at her unsuitable footwear.

“Why not? The jonquils are out and we’ll get a beautiful view if we make it to the top of the hill.”

“If? Why should we not make it?” Harris smiled. “Don’t tell me we’re past it yet, are we?”

She giggled, and he relaxed a little, feeling that he wasn’t completely out of the running after all.

“Have you visited your daughter this time?”

“No, but I may well drop in on her.”

“You aren’t staying with her, then?” She seemed surprised.

“There isn’t really room for me, unless of course I want to bed down in the living room, but that’s not ideal.”

“Of course not, I see,” she said, looking at her feet. “I’d love to meet her.”

“Yes, well, let’s see,” he said, wondering how he’d explain Farrah to Alia.

The sun was slowly burning through the clouds, and the air smelled warm and earthy. They walked up an avenue of trees that led to the Royal Observatory at the top of the hill, pausing from time to time while Harris regained his breath. Dr. Farrah expressed concern and asked him if he was all right.

“I’m fine. Really. Just admiring the view. Such beautiful buildings,” he said, surveying the serene, elegant lines of the Old Royal Naval College. “I wonder who is the architect? Do you know?”

“Sir Christopher Wren, I believe. Plus others. Hawksmoor, I seem to remember, may have worked on it, possibly later, though I may be wrong. Let’s check.”

When they reached the top, they paused in a paved area outside the Observatory to take in the view of the Millennium Dome.

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