Page 36 of Murder in the Winter Woods
‘I have no complaints about present company. No complaints at all.’
‘This way,’ said Sean, turning away from the river. Not being a Londoner, he had the map open on his phone. Julia, an old hand at the London streets, could probably have got them wherever they were going without access to technology, but she had now willingly given herself up to trotting along beside him while he played guide.
They stopped outside the National Portrait Gallery.
‘Our first destination,’ said Sean.
‘Sean! This is one of my favourite places in the whole of London!’ she exclaimed.
‘You mentioned it once. I remembered.’
‘Oh, clever you. Clever, thoughtful, you.’
They joined the flow of real people looking at the pictures of people. There was Shakespeare, there was Henry VIII, brushing shoulders with Joan Armatrading, with Adele. Julia imagined them all coming to life, and wondered what they’d all think of each other.
They took a selfie next to the portrait of Queen Elizabeth II in a yellow dress, holding a corgi. In the selfie, Julia looked happy, a manic smile on her face, and Sean, who was taking the photograph, looked worried. Selfies would do that to you. The Queen, however, looked calm and lovely.
Sean sent the picture to the children, his and hers, on a combined family group that Julia had made a few months ago. It had seemed like some sort of significant milestone, the joint family group, but she had tried not to overthink it. And the group was quite useful for occasions like this.
Sean looked at his watch. ‘Have you seen enough? I’ve booked a table for lunch.’
‘You have? And might I ask…?’
‘You might ask, but I won’t tell you. Wait and see…’
An hour later they were seated at a restaurant in Chinatown, with a beer each, making their way through stacks of bamboo baskets of steamed buns filled with spicy pork, chilli crab and soft prawn. The smell of ginger, garlic and sesame filled the air. Life in the country had plenty to recommend it, but authentic dim sum restaurants were not generally listed amongst its charms. Julia had remarked, once or twice, on this minor failing of her adopted home, and her deep adoration of dumplings. Sean had clearly been listening.
‘So, so good,’ said Julia, for about the eighth time, leaning back in her chair with an air of deep satisfaction.
‘Best in London, according to my research.’
‘You are amazing! Thank you, Sean. It’s been the perfect day.’
‘Would you like something more? A last order of potstickers? Or a dessert, perhaps.’
‘I don’t think I’d be able to fit in a peppermint.’
‘I’ll get the bill.’
‘Can I contribute?’
‘No. This day is my treat.’
‘It’s been the most wonderful day. Just perfect.’
‘I’m glad you’re happy, Julia.’ He took her hand and looked suddenly serious. ‘I want you to know how much I appreciate you. And love you.’
‘Oh Sean, I do know. Even before the dim sum extravaganza. And I love and appreciate you too.’
A waiter interrupted the moment, with offers of still more dumplings. They declined. Sean asked for the bill.
Back at the B&B, they took to the sofas, feet up, recovering from the miles of city walking, the visual stimulation, and the dumpling overload. Their phones pinged occasionally in almost-unison, as the various children in various time zones – Jess in Hong Kong, Mark in Vietnam and of course, Jono in Berrywick – responded to the photo on the family group. Unsurprisingly, the responses were brief and emoji-heavy –Cool shotand a string of hearts.
Julia’s phone rang. She contemplated not answering – an unknown number which would probably turn out to be an annoying sales call. But these people always persist, thought Julia, so one might as well get this out of the way. And there was always the nagging feeling that she might be missing something important.
‘Julia, it’s David,’ came the voice when she answered. ‘We met last night. Christopher’s cousin.’
‘Oh, yes, of course, David. Lovely to hear from you.’ Julia couldn’t think what the man could be phoning her about, as pleasant as he had been.
