*****

Ten minutes later, up to our chests in warm water and foam, I fill the flutes, passing them across.

“’Scuse me a mo,” says Charlotte, then slides under the surface. She rises again a few seconds later, snorting bubbles.

“How do you feel now?” I ask.

James tips his glass to me, smiling, but he doesn’t speak. Then, his lids drooping, he looks away.

*****

Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago

I step out, feeling bright. Everything is going perfectly.

Bech’s done well…

Nothing like a little competition to get the prices up

Another shipment like that and I can open the east wing at Blessingmoors…

So Yakovlevski wants a mix...

A couple of leggy Russian types ought to fit in well…

Back to Helsinki…

But first I want to see the apartment. Keys jingling in my pocket, I head out.

Will she like it?

But as the lock turns smoothly and the door clicks open, my doubts settle.

What's not to like?

The space is bright and airy, morning sunshine spilling through panes and onto, as I requested, new flooring and walls painted in cool neutral colours.

Much better than what she has…

And she can soon put her own stamp on it…

The carpets are deep and thick. Nonetheless, my footsteps echo in the empty rooms.

To furnish or not to furnish…?

Let her choose from the start?

Or furnish first then she can change it to suit herself?

it in the

Not easy…

No.

the better part with the marina, small shops selling souvenirs and knick-knacks and bars that play host

She’ll like that…

like to

her own

She’s artistic…

and talented… Easily

Don’t get distracted.

the apartment, the room

How to play this…?

Bookshelves…

Definitely.

Double bed...?

I

take her

she has

out for one of the large

*****

Her phone rings.

“Hello?”

I was wondering,

you

I want to show you something. I’ll send a cab for

“That’s great. What time?”

“About two?”

“I’ll see you then.”

*****

wearing a track in the carpet. I turn

smiling and lovely, in the fur-lined boots and gloves I bought her in Finland, enfolded in a huge woollen shawl and with a scarf covering half her face. Poking out from under the shawl is one of the designer

must be freezing. Come into the warm. Here, let me take

isn’t it,” she says. “It’s nothing like so cold as Helsinki if you read the thermometer, but that damp breeze…” She shivers. “Hope you don’t mind…” She looks sheepish as she slips off the boots and fishes low-heeled court shoes from her

I take her wrap, she offers the bag.

the fire. What would you like

“Lovely.”

she perches on a stool by the flames, she

the owner’s stamp on it. On which

a towel and

cloth falls away,

… extraordinary…

is one of yours, isn’t it? I recognise your style from that mural in your

it.” She moves around to look at it with me. “You like

yes. Very

at sunset. I painted it to give

the hell does she do

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