And I had to sort my mobile number out, too, I remembered with a grimace. I wandered out to reception, found Xander and got my phone back. He’d deleted all the sleazy messages. Then I pulled on my coat, put up my umbrella and braved the rain again. The street was deserted, but for a few cars swishing by, their tyres loud on the wet cobbles. As soon as I got home, I stripped off my uncomfortable funeral clothes and wrapped my fluffy dressing gown round myself. Then I perched on the side of our enormous bath as the water ran, and called Lou to tell her what had happened. She was a master of efficiency. “Don’t change your number,” she said. “I’ll set it up to divert unknown callers to me. Do you still have the advert?” I told her Xander was busy visiting the city’s most unsavoury establishments, collecting them. “I’ll swing by the spa and pick one up. There’s a woman on our IT team who owes me a favour.” I felt a flash of jealousy as I wondered why the woman owed her a favour, then squashed it again.
