In fact, unless she stripped naked and ravished Daniel in front of my eyes, it couldn’t be as bad as I feared. I climbed the stairs of the Buildings slowly, carrying my backpack with my two bottles of wine, moving like someone invited to the deathbed of a dear friend. The office had been cleaned, but it still looked agreeably rumpled, as though Sam Spade had just clapped on his fedora and gone out with the mysterious woman diffusing a Parisian scent. The mysterious woman, however, emerged from the other room wearing, I swear, higher heels than last time, the tightest of blouses in lime satin, a simply schoolgirl grey bubble skirt and the first pair of seamed stockings I had seen since I caught Audrey Hepburn on the Late Late Late You Are Severely Insomniac Movie Show. ‘Danny! Corry’s here!’ she called over her shoulder, not greeting me at once. ‘And you said she wouldn’t come!’ ‘Not so lucky,’ I murmured, handing over my bag. She peeked inside. ‘Oh, Australian wine,’ she said.
