Chapter 37

The man, Martin I assumed, was tall, pale-complexioned, and had black curly hair that was thinning on top.

“Yes, and this is my husband, Simon,” Mark said.

I was surprised at Mark being so open about our relationship. I knew this taking the lead was his way of coping with his nervousness.

“Pleased to meet you, too,” Martin said, shaking my hand. He had a firm but friendly grip, which I appreciated.

Roy hovered in the doorway. “Would anyone like a cup of tea?”

“I don’t drink tea, and neither does Simon.” A heartbeat later he added, “But if you have coffee…?”

“Yes, sorry, of course. I’d…Yes. Two coffees coming up.”

Roy escaped, rather gratefully I thought, into the kitchen. Shortly afterward I heard the rattle of teaspoons against crockery then an electric kettle being filled and switched on.

Mark took my hand, gave it a firm squeeze, and directed me to the three-seater sofa. Clearly he needed to maintain a physical contact.