‘I’m going to Russia.’
Her friend looked at her as if she had gone totally mad.
‘Russia?’ she said incredulously.
‘St Petersburg.’
‘What on earth for? A mini-break?’
Abby didn’t miss Ginny’s look of disapproval, of suspicion, and she didn’t blame her.
‘It’s work,’ she said quickly.
‘For the RCI?’
Abby shook her head.
‘I have a new job. I’m freelancing for the Chronicle.’
‘What as? Cultural attaché?’
‘I’m doing research for them.’
Ginny didn’t need to say anything. The perplexed frown between her brows said it all.
‘How on earth did all this happen?’ She took a piece of Nicorette gum from her pocket and started chewing it.
Abby waved a hand, not wanting to look her sister-in-law in the eye.
‘The Chronicle ran that big story on the Great British Explorers exhibition. The editor loved one of the photos so much he wanted me to look into it a bit more.’
‘Isn’t that a job for one of their journalists?’
‘Apparently I’m the expert.’
She hated lying to Ginny, but she didn’t want to tell her the truth either.
‘So have we got time for a quick coffee?’
‘I think the taxi is outside,’ said Abby, hearing a car horn and glad of the excuse to leave.
‘I’d better push off then,’ Ginny said tartly.
‘Gin, don’t be like this. I’m so sorry I forgot to cancel brunch, sorry you’ve had a wasted journey over here, but this trip was really last minute and I’ve been up to here getting my visa sorted, making all my travel arrangements . . .’
‘Don’t worry about it. I know what it’s like.’
‘Look, Ginny. You know better than anyone what a shitty few weeks I’ve had. This is good for me, even if I’m so far out of my comfort zone it’s not even funny.’
Ginny came and put her arms around her.
‘I know, I know. You take care, okay.’
Abby nodded and prayed that her sister-in-law hadn’t seen the contents of her wheelie case spilling out on to the floor: a sliver of pink bikini string, a glimpse of black sparkly T-shirt, a high-heeled shoe.
‘Are we still on for starting this Pilates course on Thursday?’ said Ginny. ‘I thought we could go for dinner afterwards. My treat.’
<