Page 26 of Don't Let Him In

I am sitting weeping I did not know about Paddy. I have been abroad since lockdown and only returned home a month ago I would love to talk to you about him. Either in person (I’m based in Dorset but spend a lot of time in London) or over the phone/Zoom/whatever. Do write back so that we can make a plan And I am so sorry for your loss

Two days later, on her day off, Ash takes the train into London. She has arranged to meet Jane for brunch at a restaurant in the new development at King’s Cross, one with a terrace that spills onto a beautiful, landscaped piazza with fountains and avenues of bare-branched cherry trees.

It’s the first time that Ash has been to London since she left under a cloud eighteen months ago. She feels panic grip her gut as she steps off the quiet train and heads into the maelstrom of St. Pancras. It’s not the number of people that is making her heart race, it’s the possibility of one of them being one of her former colleagues from the lifestyle magazine where she used to work. Or worse still, one of them being her ex-boss, Ritchie Lloyd.

It’s easy to spot Jane with her shock of bottle-red hair and a contrasting shaggy green cardigan. She gets to her feet as Ash approaches and holds her at arm’s length for a moment, scanning her face.

“Yes,” she says to Ash, “I can see him there. I can see Paddy.”

Then she brings her close for a hug and Ash smells something that reminds her of a holiday in Ibiza when she was a child.

Jane’s a few inches taller than Ash, which means she must have been roughly the same height as Paddy, possibly even taller.

“I’m afraid I already ordered,” says Jane, pointing at some kind of smoothie and half a buttery croissant. “I was starving. Here”—she passes Ash a menu—“order whatever you like. My treat. I know you poor millennials can’t afford nice things.”

“No,” says Ash, “it’s not that we can’t afford nice things. It’s that we can’t affordimportantthings. And I’m actually Gen Z, just.”

Jane widens her eyes. “Are you really? I thought they were all at primary school!”

Ash can’t tell if she’s being disingenuous or not. “Do you have children?”

“Step. I have stepchildren. Two sets. Ha! I am rather more of a dog person than a children person, it turns out. Anyway, I am so sorry about Paddy. About your dad. I googled after I heard from you—I saw all the stories online. It sounds quite horrific.”

Jane is very posh, but not in a grating way. And she is mesmerizingly beautiful: hollowed cheeks, a wide, expressive mouth, a long neck that she touches a lot with elegant fingers.

“It was,” Ash says. “It is. It feels like a nightmare that never ends. Every day. I can’t close my eyes without picturing it. Without imagining how he must have felt when those hands connected with his body. When he knew he wouldn’t be able to pull himself back. That it was done. That he’d never see any of us again.”

Ash blinks hard and rolls her head back as the darkness nudges at her temples, trying to worm its way into her being. She makes herself smile and glances down at the menu. “Anyway,” she says, her eyes scanning the words that swirl and fade as she tries to process them, “I should probably have something to eat too.” A waitress approaches and she asks her for a cappuccino with oat milk, and a coconut yogurt with berries and chia seeds.

“You know,” Jane says, eyeing Ash gently, “Paddy was the love of my life?”

“Yes,” says Ash. “I did know that. He told us quite a lot about your…” She reaches for words that won’t offend. “Your time together.”

“Did he say I was mad? Oh God, I bet he did. I bet he made me sound like a total lunatic. And in many ways, I suppose I was. But I was so young, and really, young people shouldn’t be let loose on relationships. Those really should just be left for the grown-ups. And I did behave quite terribly on occasion. I know I did. Did he tell you?”

Ash scratches the side of her face where a stray hair has tickled her skin. “Kind of. I mean, yeah. But only because…” She inhales deeply “… because I was going through something similar. With a guy. A guy at work. Who I was kind of…” She feels a flush rise through her from her gut “… obsessed with. Yeah. I was obsessed with him, and I did some mad stuff, and my dad told me some stuff that happened when you two were together, I think basically to try to make me feel better. You know? But he only talked about you with affection. With kindness.” This wasn’t strictly true. There had also been some dark humor in the way her father spoke about Jane Trevally, about the way she was perceived by the Swann family.

“Oh,” says Jane, pushing the cuffs of her cardigan up her forearms and tossing her head slightly. “I’m sure he did. Paddy was a very kind man. He was always very nice to me, even when I didn’t deserve him to be.”

“How long were you together?”

“Four years. From eighteen to twenty-two. Blink of an eye from this perspective. But it felt like a marriage at the time. You know. Four years. Nowadays, four years happens when you’re in the shower.” She sighs. “I’m not so crazy now. Or at least, the edges have been worn off me. In a good way. Weird to think that if I’d met Paddy now, I’d probably be sane enough to keep hold of him.” She darts a glance at Ash. “Sorry,” she says. “That sounded weird. Inappropriate. Forgive me.”

Ash shakes it off. “It’s fine,” she says. “I get it. I really do.” Her coffee and yogurt arrive, and she smiles and says thank you to the waitress. “What was he like? Back then?”

“Oh, pretty much as he was when he was older, I’d imagine. He was solid, steady, you know. Just regular, decent, grounded. It was me that made things complicated.” She shivers lightly.

“Do you remember a man called Nick? Who worked at the restaurant in Mayfair where Dad used to work?”

She cocks her head. “Nick what?”

“Radcliffe. He’s kind of tall, slim. His hair is white now but was probably dark then. Slightly northern accent.” She swipes her phone screen to find Nick’s LinkedIn page, then does a double take and grimaces when she realizes it’s gone. “Oh,” she says. “His LinkedIn page has disappeared. How weird. But look…” She scrolls through her camera roll to the screenshot she has of it. “This is Nick. Do you recognize him?”

Jane peers at the photo and shakes her head. “Not that I recall. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don’t know, he’s just kind of landed in our lives. Said he knew Dad from back then. He sent us Dad’s Zippo. Here.”

She pulls it out of her bag and slides it across the table toward Jane.

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