Her trip to London had been exhausting enough to make sleep seem like a distinct possibility, but she knew guilt would niggle at her till she’d managed to get contact details for the Syrians so Craig Grassie could get to work on their problem.And so, instead of going home, luxuriating in a fragrant bath then falling into bed, Karen had forced herself to keep going. She’d caught a train for the short hop back to Waverley then stopped for a curry at the top of Leith Walk. The restaurant had been crowded and noisy; ideal for people-watching to accompany the assortment of starters she’d settled on. By the time she’d eaten and caught a bus back to the flat, it was after eleven. She’d stripped off the suit she’d been wearing since Friday, wondering if she’d get another wear out of it before it went to the dry cleaner. Maybe if she hung it up in the bathroom the creases would drop out and it would stop smelling of London.She slipped into the comfort of her night-walking clothes and watched the latest episode of a TV drama she’d been following over the past few weeks.
