Lunch at the Savoy
“That was lovely, Caroline,” Leslie said.
“Uh-huh.”
“I couldn’t afford this lunch here on my own,” Leslie said. “A real treat.”
She loudly crossed her knife and fork on her plate and glared up at him.
“What’s wrong?” he said. “You’ve been silent through most of the meal.”
“Glad you noticed.”
He reached across to grab her hand but she pulled it away. “Come on, Caroline, we’ve been friends too long,” he pleaded.
“You lied to me, you sod.”
“I did not.”
“Did too. I can tell,” she said. “More secrecy about those Goddamned sketches of Edwards and the accident. Why won’t you let it go?”
“I did. I have. Like I told you I…I had something to finish up at the shop. Old Carstairs—“
“Don’t old Carstairs me.” She reached into her bag and pulled out her wallet, and then dro
