Dark Flag by Kevin Wignall

Author:Kevin Wignall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-08-08T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

For an afternoon, they got to act like nothing was wrong. They spent a couple of hours sitting around in the apartment, photographs were produced, talk bounced between the distant past they’d shared to some extent, and the many years they hadn’t.

Then they cooked together, and despite his earlier judgment, Hannah knew her way around the kitchen and he enjoyed being with her, but he never forgot that they were both only acting their parts, that she was struggling to keep her head above water, and that he wasn’t the man who was meant to be chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter.

He was impressed by how well she’d dealt with the shock, and she was still in the earliest days, but he could see that Neil would continue to be the touchstone of her life for many years to come, most likely always. She was like someone with a terminal illness, laughing, smiling, talking, but with a light that never quite reached the back of her eyes.

She was tired after eating, so he left her to sleep. He walked to his hotel, showered and changed and took a cab back to her house just before nine. She’d slept for a couple of hours and looked healthier than he’d seen her on this trip, even more than on the first night when he guessed the strains of knowing something was wrong had already started to wear her down.

They left a little after nine and walked the short distance to the university as dusk fell away into darkness. As they walked, Sam said, ‘What happened to Lene? I thought she was staying tonight.’

‘I told her not to – I’ll have to get used to the idea sooner or later, so why not now? And I’ve had bolts added to the front door. The police suggested changing the lock but the lock wasn’t forced anyway so…’

‘Bolts are safer,’ said Sam. ‘A wedge for the door is a good idea, too.’

There was a pause before she said, ‘You’ve thought a lot about this, haven’t you?’

‘About security? Yeah, it’s a bit of a preoccupation.’

They turned a corner into the street where the faculty was housed. Across the road on their right was a park of some sort, and up ahead amid the dark trees and shrubs, Sam could see the roof of a large and ornate greenhouse, the glass producing an inviting opaque glow from the lights inside it.

There had been a large plant-filled conservatory at the back of his grandparents’ house, and this brought a memory rushing back from his childhood, of being in the garden one winter night, seeing that little lit world and being entranced by it.

He pointed and said, ‘What’s that place?’

‘The palm-house? It’s part of the botanical garden.’

‘It’s beautiful. Is it open at night?’

‘I don’t know. Why, did you want to go there now?’

‘No, I was just curious. I kind of like greenhouses.’

She laughed and said, ‘You always did say some of the strangest things.’

And then she linked her

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