Which gave her something to think about while the waiter appeared and took their order. She opted for the fish; Devon for the mushroom risotto. They had enough wine for the moment, though the waiter did his best to remedy that by refilling their glasses uninvited. When he’d gone again, she picked up where they’d left off. “Came up? How did that happen?”
Welles dipped his head modestly.
“Well, thanks. I guess. But I’m not sure it’s for me.”
“Can’t know until you try. You’d be a shoo-in—there’s marksmanship as well as fitness, and you’re savvy enough to ace the paperwork. All of which is to say, it’s a serious business. We don’t just hoover up Service and forces dropouts. And I’d like to have you on my team.”
“Your team?”
“Did I skip that bit? Yeah, my team. You’d get to call me guv, or possibly sir. There’d be a certain amount of forelock tugging, some small acts of abasement. You know the drill.”
“That’s a big selling point. But seriously—”
“Want to know how much I earn?”
“Not really.”
“Low six figures. Plus a car and other perks. Want to know how much my crew earn?”
“Not really.”
“High five figures. They don’t get cars though, the sad fuckers. How much are you on, Louisa?” She added ten. He shook his head. “I was on more than that at the Park, and one of the reasons I left was finding it hard to get by. And that was before the economy tanked.”
“I have a modest lifestyle.”
“Time you could afford better. And Louisa—Slough House? Seriously? You’ve been there too long, for all the wrong reasons. You’re never going back to the Park, because they’ll never let you, and more fool them. Why spend the rest of your life paying for one mistake you made years ago? Walk away now and make some money. Close the book on Slough House. It’s a shithole, you know it is. How is Lamb, anyway?”
“You really care?”
“Nope. Round the Park, they called him Prospero, you know that?”
“Because . . . ?”
“He breaks his staff.”
“No they didn’t.”
“Yeah, okay. Would’ve been good, though. And he is a dinosaur.”
“If you mean he’s a thick-skinned bastard it’ll probably take a meteor to kill, then I’d have to agree.”
Their food arrived, in portions small enough that Louisa hoped the bill was a stinker. So maybe this was the life she was missing: being overcharged for undersized meals, while the waitstaff filled your glass before you were ready . . . And not spending the rest of the week living out of tins. A high five figure would dull the pain all right.
There were other pains, though. When Emma died, she’d been wearing Louisa’s coat, and Louisa had never quite rid herself of the notion that the two facts were connected.
For the rest of the evening, they spoke of other things, Welles apparently satisfied that he’d planted the seed. He admired her sunflower brooch. She teased him about the suit, and he told her how much it cost. He was living in Peckham, he told her; a duplex. Next year’s holiday: Machu Picchu. That they weren’t in fact talking of other things landed slowly, so maybe she wasn’t cut out for intelligence work after all. But she was enjoying his company, and he ordered a second bottle.
Later, when they were parting, he said, “Don’t think about it too long, Louisa. For your sake, not mine. Stay where you are much longer, you’ll lose the will to leave. No pun intended.”
“I appreciate the offer. Thank you.”
But don’t pass judgement on my life.
It was the last thing she needed, she thought, waiting for her Uber. But only because not a day went by that she didn’t do that for herself.
After the hugs and the handshakes, after the unshed tears, Al got down to business. “It’s good to see you, CC,” he said.
“Yes—”
“But a safe house? Seriously?”
“This is Oxford. You want to guess how many Chinese students the city hosts?” CC unwrapped himself from his scarf, and—a habit Avril recalled—swaddled his fist in it, as if he were about to punch through a window. “So why not take advantage, save ourselves a few quid?”
“But it’s not scheduled for use tonight?” Avril asked.
“Yes, I thought we could sit quietly in a corner while a debriefing occurs. No, Avvy, it’s not scheduled for use tonight. And before you ask, I know this because someone has to make sure there are custard creams and spare lightbulbs and all the rest. So I’m informed when guests are expected.”
Al said, “You’re a housekeeper now?”
“Little errands is all. A far cry from running joes in the badlands, but there’s a small sum turns up once a month, and we’ve all got ends need meeting.” He looked at Daisy. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if there was a chance we’d be disturbed.”
Daisy was gazing at his hand, as if awaiting broken glass. CC pulled the scarf free and draped it over the armchair. He’d arrived carrying a weighted bag for life; its contents, Avril gauged, comprising their supper and a bottle of something, she was guessing Irish whiskey. CC was never one for avoiding the obvious.
“You’ve been giving this some thought, then,” Avril said.
“You’re never far from my thoughts. None of you. You know that.”
