He smiles to himself as he tucks the phone away without replying. Looks at his hands and shakes his head. He’s trying to be a better man. He hasn’t given the order for the thug who hurt him to be beaten beyond regret. He supposes, in some weird way, the little prick saved his life.
He sniffs. Breathes in the smell of sunlight and fresh air. He glances to his left to check that Vicki-Louise has drifted away. He doesn’t want to spoil his surprise.
He hears the swish of footsteps on the grass.
“I’m really pleased you’re not dead,” says Snowdrop, earnestly. “I don’t know what happened. I can’t remember. But I know it was you. You and me. You’re my favourite. My best.”
He turns to her, and grins. “You have a way with words.”
“I’m a writer,” she says, and looks as though she would give the earth for a hug. .
“You are,” he says, and means it. “You really are.”
He pulls a thick proof copy of a book from the pocket of his coat. “It’s with the lawyers,” he says, giving a lopsided smile. “I don’t know if it will see light of day but I’ve bought some time at least. Time to make it true. And look,” he says, as she clumsily peels back the title page.
Snowdrop smiles like summer as she looks at the dedication.
For Snowdrop, with love
THE END