Edward looked pale, even a little sick. He hadn’t touched his pint since I’d started telling the story. He got up from the table. ‘I’m going to start by making some calls, doing a bit of research. I’ll call you tomorrow morning, OK?’ ‘OK,’ I said. ‘You coming?’ he asked. I shook my head. I didn’t want to leave the pub. I was going to stay here and get thoroughly fucking drunk. I watched him go out through the double doors. He knew all of the story he needed to know to help me. I had done the right thing.
