The Last Kiss Goodbye
‘Elliot Hall from the Chronicle,’ said Abby’s new friend, introducing himself.
The old woman smiled knowingly at him.
‘The youngest Shah, I presume? You have your father’s cheekbones.’
‘My . . . cheekbones?’ said Elliot, clearly taken aback.
‘Oh, Andrew is an unmitigated shit, I’m sure you know that as well as anyone. But he was a handsome shit. I hope you have only inherited the former quality,’ she said mischievously.
‘I fear I fail on both counts, Ms Bailey,’ said Elliot, recovering his poise.
‘A charmer, you certainly have that going for you.’
‘Ms Bailey . . . Rosamund,’ stuttered Abby. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d come.’
‘I wasn’t at all sure myself,’ said the woman, the smile draining from her face. ‘But I was intrigued about the photograph you mentioned in your note. You know, I’ve never seen it. Not this exact one. Willem, the chap who took it, sent me a lovely print when Dom disappeared, but this picture . . .’ Her voice trailed off with
emotion.
‘Where was it taken, Rosamund? If you don’t mind me asking,’ said Elliot.
She took a moment before she spoke, as if it was painful to resurrect her memories.
‘Dom was going into the heart of the Amazon,’ she said finally. ‘It was a solo trip, but he needed a team to launch him out. This was in the village of Kutuba. The last town before he set off.’
‘I didn’t realise it was a solo trip.’
Rosamund gave a sad nod. ‘Perhaps if someone had been with him, we would have more idea about what happened to him.’
‘And how do you feel, seeing the photo?’
With a speed that surprised Abby, the older woman turned to face Elliot. ‘Don’t think for a single moment that you’ll be getting an exclusive interview from the weeping fiancée, Mr Hall.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ he said quickly.
‘I worked in Fleet Street for over fifty years. I know why you are here and what you want, and I don’t mean a free glass of wine and the company of attractive ladies.’
She glanced at Abby, her scold executed with the good nature of someone older and wiser.
‘I know how easy it is to see something as just a story, but don’t forget that there are real lives going on behind a headline or a picture.’
‘I didn’t know he was your fiancé.’
Rosamund nodded. ‘Yes, he was. It was all such a very long time ago, but standing here tonight it feels as if it was yesterday.’
She peered at the price tag on the photo.
‘Golly,’ she said quietly, as if she were baulking at the cost. ‘I assume these are limited-edition prints.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’d better get a move on and order one, then.’
‘No need. I’ll arrange for one to be sent to you,’ said Abby, knowing that she should probably keep this gesture from Stephen.
‘How kind,’ smiled Rosamund, visibly softening.
‘One quote?’ asked Elliot, sensing his opportunity.