The Promise by Lucy Diamond

Author:Lucy Diamond
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan UK

Chapter Seventeen

Dan’s ankle was thankfully much better by Monday and, as he sat eating breakfast that morning, he felt relatively cheerful as he considered the last few days. His good-deeds spreadsheet had a whole new crop of entries, acting as tiny individual validations. The flat on Whitecliffe Road was newly painted throughout and ready to be let again. It had been raining overnight but the sun was shining once more, casting golden streaks of light on the last wet drops that speckled the windows. He’d topped up the bird feeder recently, and it now provided a buffet to a whole host of feathered visitors. He watched them as he ate, appreciating the free show. Back when he’d been an office drone, he’d never had time to sit and contemplate anything other than the news on his phone, or the list of meetings he had lined up that day, before heading out the door.

A different sort of agenda lay ahead of him this week. There had been three new calls waiting for him when he checked the messages on Patrick’s business phone earlier, all from Rosemary, his most demanding tenant. Apparently her burglar alarm had started flashing at six o’clock that morning and still hadn’t stopped. It almost certainly meant that the battery was on its way out and needed replacing, but she had sounded increasingly worried with each message, and he had a feeling that the calls would keep coming until he went to deal with it. That was first on the list. Later, he needed to chase up Patrick’s accountant about the VAT bill. He cringed anew as he remembered Zoe asking, all innocence, about dodgy payments from Patrick’s account. He was pretty sure he’d managed to bluster through a response without arousing her suspicions, but nevertheless, it had felt a perilous moment before he’d eventually twigged that she was joking.

He hadn’t yet decided what to do about the direct debit due to go out to Lydia next week, but he’d managed to swipe the business card with Lydia’s details from Zoe’s fridge at least, pocketing it surreptitiously while she was making him a coffee, so he had prevented one horrendous phone call at least. The card was on the kitchen table in front of him now, like a ticking bomb, and he picked it up and turned it between his fingers, corner by corner, still unsure what – if anything – he should do. Soft, read the logo on the card, followed by a W4 address: the Turnham Green end of Chiswick, according to the map on his phone. Lydia had written her name and phone number on the card, plus a little heart.

Curious, he glanced at the website, discovering that it was a small arty boutique, apparently owned by a Jonathan Browning. Lydia’s husband or partner, maybe? Did she own the business or just work there? If the latter, then he doubted that she was being paid a huge amount of money. Maybe she was an heiress

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