The Yacht Party (Lara Stone)

‘And what about Stefan?’

Eduardo gave a sad snort.

‘Ah, Stefan. Your friend Chief Inspector Fox said he won’t face prosecution. Legally speaking, he didn’t really do anything wrong. But we will expel him from Le Caché. I can’t tell De Telegraaf or any other publication what to do, but once people know what he was involved with and the way he behaved, I imagine Stefan Melberg will struggle to get work even writing for a local paper.’

Lara thought of Stefan’s face the previous night, just before he had walked out into the rain, so miserable, so desperate to say he wasn’t a bad guy. Despite everything he’d done, she didn’t think Stefan was evil, he was just weak. But you make your bed, you have to lie in it. Lara supposed that was exactly right in Stefan’s case.

Alex approached the table carrying three pints and a packet of crisps between his teeth.

‘Drinks,’ he grunted.

‘Corporate hospitality at its finest,’ laughed Lara, taking the crisps away from him.

‘At least you know we’re not blowing the Chronicle’s news budget on champagne,’ he said, taking the stool opposite Eduardo. Lara stood up and laid a hand on Alex’s shoulder. ‘You’ll have to drink mine for me. I’m going to leave you two to it.’

Lara was a spare part here anyway: Eduardo and Alex were going to thrash out some sort of information-sharing deal where the Chronicle could publish Le Caché stories. All part of Darius’s brand new push towards making the paper the home for serious news. Lara wondered how long the idea would survive contact with Nicholas Avery and his bottom line, but she was glad they were trying it at least.

‘Where are you going?’ asked Alex, looking disappointed.

‘Power nap, shower, pop tart in that order. Then I’ll see you back at the office with the party-poppers, I guess.’

‘The first edition should be in at elevenish. You’d better be there.’

Lara smiled.

‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

Eduardo held up his hand as Lara went to leave.

‘Will I see you both in Corsica?’

Lara nodded. It was Sandrine’s funeral in a week’s time.

‘I’ll be there for a few days beforehand,’ said Eduardo. ‘Sandrine always used to tell me how clear the water was in the bay where she grew up and I think I want to see it. Sit where she sat, watch the boats go by.’

‘We’ll be there,’ said Lara, meeting Alex’s gaze, seeing his nod. ‘Although I’m not sure I want to see any yachts for a while.’

Alex walked her out to the street. The sky had gone a deep blue, golden along the horizon, moths fluttering against a sodium lamp illuminating the picnic tables outside the pub. It was warm, but not close; the previous night’s tempest seemed to have blown all the cobwebs away for now at least. Alex looked up at the stars just beginning to prick through.

‘Are you going to get a cab?’

‘No, I think I’ll walk.’

‘Sure?’

She nodded, squeezing his arm. ‘It’s over,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘Can’t you feel it?’

‘Maybe.’

He paused, pushing his hands into his pockets.

‘You two looked cosy,’ said Alex nodding back towards the pub.’

‘Cosy? With Eduardo?’ Lara started laughing.

‘He’s a catch,’ insisted Alex, a half-smile on his face. ‘If I was a woman, I’d fancy him.’

‘Well, even if I did, even if he hadn’t been seeing my best friend, I’m off relationships. I’m a rotten picker or hadn’t you noticed?’