The Portico Thief by Harley Stone

Author:Harley Stone [Stone, Harley]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Little Red Dog
Published: 2022-09-16T00:00:00+00:00

Soho: The Red Café

Freezing, Dolcy waited for her friend. She leant against the wall, her thoughts drifting with the passers-by as she rubbed her gloved hands together. Joanna was always late.

Lighting a cigarette, she studied the blue stream mingled with the coldness of her breath: cloud pockets rising into the air. She’d have given anything to cancel her plans so she could meet George instead, but when she’d asked, his text came back that he was busy until Christmas Day.

As she waited, thoughts turned to Sidney Knight’s letter. If she could find this Angus, there was a chance she could get the money back for George and destroy all the damming evidence Sidney had collected over the years. She needed to destroy it as much for herself as for George and Ben.

Rushing towards her in the distance was Joanna – flushed and bothered. Without a ‘hello,’ she planted a kiss on Dolcy’s cheek and linked their arms together. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all week,’ she smiled. Dolcy thought she resembled a marshmallow in her pale-pink sweater, pink gloves, and fluffy white coat.

‘Where do you want to go?’ Dolcy asked.

‘My friend told me about this little place that does the best hot chocolate and homemade cakes in London. So, I thought we’d give it a go.’

Smiling to herself because the girl had a sweet tooth bigger than hers, she let Joanna lead them down the backstreets of Soho, where discreet clubs kept their doors closed, and men dressed in black stood outside with their earpieces on show. They chatted away about their mid-sessional exams until Joanna stopped. ‘This is it.’ She smiled.

‘Here?’ Dolcy asked in surprise.

‘I know it doesn’t look much, but seriously, my friend raves about it.’

Hesitantly, Dolcy followed Joanna in, wondering who the friend was because she’d never mentioned having any before. Mrs C and her husband, thankfully, weren’t there; instead, two boys in their late twenties were behind the counter. The little red jam-jars weren’t flickering their dancing shadows across the red gingham tables. It was all so different.

Joanna unravelled herself from the winter layers and went from plump to thin in seconds. ‘I so needed to get out, D.’

‘Things not good at home?’

‘I can’t wait to get back to uni.’

The café was a hub of music, voices, and clanking from behind the counter. Christmas cheer was pinging in the till every few seconds. Groups of people clustered around tables, chatting, drinking, and eating. Some sat alone, typing on laptops while servers moved between the tables. Fresh coffee and melting chocolate wafted to Dolcy’s nostrils.

‘So, what are you doing for Christmas?’ Joanna asked.

‘Going to a friend’s, you?’

‘Just me and my Mum.’ She explained that Christmas would be miserable until her uncles came over for a cold left-overs tea on Boxing Day. Part of Dolcy wanted to say that at least she had a family to spend it with, but the other part dreaded ever having to endure everything her friend mentioned, especially at Debra Evans’s house.

‘Are your uncles nice?’

‘They’re not my real uncles, just Mum’s friends.

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