by Gemma Malley
‘Il est ou?’
Raffy frowned. ‘Linus?’
The waiter nodded.
‘En Angleterre. He’s gone to England,’ he said. ‘In a bloody huge great Mercedes,’ he added silently, allowing himself a little chuckle. That had been the only thing Linus had been interested in when he was freed, hailed as a hero, offered anything he wanted.
The waiter’s eyes lit up. ‘I want to go there,’ he said. ‘I mean, can you imagine? A country where people have been living in tribes and stuff? It’s like so amazing. I am so totally going to go there this summer. You think by then they might have some hotels set up and stuff?’
Raffy wasn’t sure what to say. ‘Probably.’
‘Yeah,’ the waiter said dreamily. ‘It just shows, you never know, do you? I mean, you just never really know what’s going to happen. Or what’s happened. From now on I am so never going near a computer again, you know what I mean? I’m going to travel the world. See it for myself. It’s the only way, right?’
‘Right,’ Raffy said quietly. ‘I think you’re right.’
‘Although for now, I need some cash. So I better go and serve some other people,’ the waiter said, giving him a mock salute before wandering off.
Raffy picked up the newspaper in front of him, a new paper that had recently started to roll off the presses as chips were discarded and information had to be disseminated in new, or old, ways. And he was astonished at how many problems were already being worried about. Markets. Crime. Immigration. Bank failures, all apparently about to tip the world into anarchy because trust had broken down, because chips were no more, because the old order was being abandoned and the new one hadn’t been created yet.
‘Anyone sitting here?’
He looked up, then froze. There was a girl standing over him. Tall, blonde bob, trademark leather jacket. And more beautiful in the flesh than he’d ever thought possible. ‘Frankie?’ He cleared his throat. ‘So you ditched the wig?’
She grinned, her mouth filling her whole face as she plonked herself down next to him. ‘Would you believe my real hair is now a disguise? Turns out no one’s interested in old-Frankie anymore, they want the girl with the short dark hair. Like this, I’m left alone. So listen, I was waiting to hear from you. I mean, you always managed to track me down before. But I didn’t hear a thing. Not even a “well done” or a “congratulations”, something like that.’
‘Well done. Congratulations,’ Raffy managed to say. He hadn’t contacted her because … Well, he hadn’t been able to. Hadn’t known what to say.
‘Thank you!’ Frankie affected an expression of huge gratitude. ‘And congratulations to you, too. Job well done. So what happened? You some kind of lone ranger? The job’s done so you disappear? I had to flirt my ass off with some of these new police people they’ve got now to find out where you were. But what am I saying? I haven’t even introduced myself properly. You realise we’ve never actually met? My name is Frankie. Very nice to meet you.’ She held her hand out expectantly.
‘Raffy,’ Raffy managed to say, shaking her hand. His mind had gone blank. ‘Um, I’m Raffy. Nice to meet you, too.’
She smiled again. ‘I need some coffee,’ she said. ‘But first, I need you to tell me something.’
‘You do?’ Raffy asked.
‘I do.’ Frankie nodded, stretching her long legs in front of her. ‘Your radio silence, this whole low-key under the radar act. Are you still in love with Evie? Are you here nursing your wounds because she’s all lovey dovey with your brother? Because much as I get it – I mean, the whole Evie thing. She’s seriously cool, if a bit deranged, but then aren’t we all a bit mad really? The point is, I do not need another messed-up guy in my life, you know? I mean, seriously, I do not need any more crap right now.’
She was looking right at him, her eyebrows raised, just like they used to be when he watched her on screen, only now her eyes were so much more intense, almost black in colour, the light bouncing off them as she talked. And he barely heard a word she said because she talked so fast and her hands gesticulated with every word, hypnotising him, making him forget what he was doing here, what his name was. But she was waiting; he had to say something.
‘I don’t want any more crap in my life either,’ he managed to say eventually.
‘Really?’ Frankie scrutinised his face. ‘You’re ready to move on? Because I don’t have many friends. Not here in Paris. Apart from Jim, that is, but he’s … well he’s going into politics apparently and good luck to him … What I guess I’m saying is that for good or ill, you’re pretty much my best friend now. And I kind of need a friend. So if you don’t mind kicking around together a bit? You know, while this whole new order thing works itself out?’
‘I’d like that,’ Raffy said. And as he spoke, he felt lighter. Felt like he’d been carrying something around with him for a very long time and now he wasn’t anymore.
‘Good,’ Frankie said, biting her lip, a tiny indicator that she wasn’t quite as confident as she made out, a tiny movement that Raffy noticed, that she noticed him noticing as their eyes locked and Raffy’s hand moved forward in a movement he barely controlled; he grasped her hand, squeezing it tight.
‘We did it,’ he whispered. ‘But now what?’
‘Now?’ Frankie asked, her voice low and soft, a smile, a secretive little smile, on her lips. ‘Now, we order more coffee. And then …’ She winked. ‘Then I have no idea.’
Acknowledgements
Huge thanks as ever to my agent Dorie Simmonds whose wise counsel and support knows no bounds. To Kate Howard, my editor, whose enthusiasm has seen me through many a dark patch, and whose brilliant insights and eye for detail I have come to rely on. To my publicists, Leni, Vero and Emilie. To everyone at Hodder who has worked so hard, particularly the designers who created such wonderful covers … Thank you, thank you.
Thank you to my sister Maddy, who got me writing all those years ago. Thank you to my husband, Mark, whose mantra ‘just get on with it’ might be irritating but is always, in the end, what I need. Thank you to my parents with their unwavering support. Thank you to Atticus, Allegra and Diggory for bringing so much joy and mischief into my life, and to Emma Wright for bringing fun (and order) into theirs.