33
Jack felt blessed to have some light relief that evening, in the form of the planned meal with Chrissie and Emily. They’d finally settled on an American-style diner three miles outside Mildenheath, at Emily’s request. His daughter had told him she’d get a friend to drop her off on the way back from the cinema, but — an hour after they’d arranged to meet — she still wasn’t there.
‘I’m so sorry about this,’ he said to Chrissie. ‘She’s a bloody nightmare sometimes.’
‘Still not answering her phone?’
‘Nope. Straight through to voicemail. She does this sometimes. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t need to say anything. We’re having fun as it is. We can wait.’
Jack looked down at the plate of nachos in front of him, growing soggier by the second under the weight of salsa, g
