Page 62 of Slow Burn Summer

She woke as Charlie easedthe car into a space beside the River Thames.

“God, I’m sorry,” she said, blinking her eyes open. “I can’t believe I fell asleep so fast. I was planning to stay awake and keep you company.” She twisted her head from side to side to ease the crick in her neck. “I blame the blanket.”

“You went out like a light,” he said. “You must have needed it.”

“It’s hard to believe we’re only an hour out of London,” she said, looking around at the bucolic riverside scene. “It feels as if I’ve woken up in a completely different world. Did you come here much as a kid?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never actually been to the apartment before. In fact, I didn’t even know he owned it until after he died.”

She turned to him, shocked. “You didn’t? When did he buy it?”

Charlie surveyed the pretty riverside scene, cascades of flowers along the railings, relatively few people around at the still-early hour except dog walkers and runners.

“Ten years ago, according to the paperwork.”

She couldn’t work out if he sounded pissed off. She’d built up an impression of their father-son relationship based on everything he’d said over the last few months, and this seemed completely at odds.

“Must have come as a bit of a shock?”

“Just a bit,” he said.

“And you’ve never wanted to come and see it?”

He sighed, thinking before he spoke. “I’ve wanted to, yeah. But…I don’t know. I’ve put it off, I guess.”

He seemed perplexed by his father’s secrecy and relieved to not be there alone. The lot of an only child, no one to share the burden.

“Right,” she said, taking charge. “Which one is it?”

He nodded toward an old converted warehouse, once a place of industry, now a screamingly cool apartment block with glass-fronted river-view balconies.

“Somehow it doesn’t look very Jojo,” she said, squinting up at the building through the windshield. Not that Jojo wasn’t a man fond of his luxuries, but he’d been more old school in his tastes, if his car, his captain’s chair, and his penchant for bow ties were anything to judge him by.

“I guess you never know everything about someone,” Charlie said, getting out of the car. “I’m sure he had his reasons.”

He’d brought her here to get away from her problems, and in doing so he seemed to be walking toward one of his own.

“So no one has been here since your father died?” she said, stepping out onto the pavement.

“Just the cleaners,” he said.

She was relieved to hear it was serviced, no fridge full of rotten food or unchanged beds to deal with. This was an important window into his father’s world, one Charlie had never looked through before; he didn’t need to contend with unmade beds and moldy food.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said. It wasn’t a platitude. It was an expression of deep relief, especially now she knew the emotional cost for him. It wasn’t as if she could leave her troubles behind her, yet it felt as if she’d gained some distance from them for a short while. Perspective, perhaps. She was at least guaranteed not to see Fiona or any marauding T-Rex.

He patted the roof as he folded it up. “It’s a good chance to blow the cobwebs off this old girl.”

“You’re not talking about me, are you?” Kate laughed for what felt like the first time in days. Reaching for the handle of her case, she wheeled it toward the entrance.

33

Jojo’s apartment could have beenanyone’s. It felt almost as if he’d bought the show home complete with furniture—it lacked any sense of his personality or taste.

Kate stepped out onto the balcony as Charlie walked around the space, inspecting the expensive fixtures and fittings. Obvious nods to the heritage of the building, exposed brickwork and stripped wooden floors, had been paired with modern comforts: deep sofas, discreet high-end tech, a large piece of abstract art taking up most of one wall. The whole place was oriented toward the phenomenal river views, the balcony set with a table for two, and an outside sofa to make the most of the space. It was entirely fabulous, but Kate couldn’t picture Jojo there at all.

“Maybe he bought it as an investment?” she said as she came back inside, thinking aloud.

Charlie shrugged. “It would have been a sound one.” He continued on through to the bathroom and the bedroom beyond. It was a perfect bachelor pad, or maybe even a love nest, but neither of those options sounded very Jojo.

---