What could – would – he do then? Not a decision to be rushed, although he’d once done well enough running his own legitimate computer programming business and there was more than sufficient money squirreled away in Jersey to start again. There was no need or reason to rush the decision, he thought again. Maybe something to think about, refine in detail, on another vacation. But then again, maybe not: the vacation that is, not the detailed consideration on his future. The weather in the South of France was uncertain in October.
He slept dreamlessly and undisturbed during the flight and disembarked in London actually excited at the thought of doing something new. The immigration officer was a blonde girl who reminded him vaguely of Alyce. She looked between him and his passsport photograph and said, ‘Harvey Jordan?’
‘Yes,’ he replied, to his own satisfaction. ‘Very definitely Harvey Jordan.’