The Magnolia club appeared to take up the basement levels of two houses, at least. ‘They probably open at eight. We could come back then.’ It sounded as if he was trying to cheer her up. There’d been a light on above the door of the club, but no one had answered when they’d knocked. ‘It’s only half an hour.’ They’d taken a taxi. He’d refused to tell Isabel any more, not another word about what he knew, but he’d insisted on coming with her to the club. It seemed almost as if he felt guilty. She didn’t argue with him. She wasn’t going to say it, but having him with her had some upsides. Not the least of which was that she would have more time to work on him, especially if he kept drinking. The wind was hurtling up Jermyn Street. It felt as if they were in a wind tunnel in the arctic. ‘Let’s go for a drink,’ said George. His shoulders were hunched against the chill. ‘I know a good place on the other side of Piccadilly.’ She expected he knew a lot of good places on the other side of Piccadilly.
