Dark Eyes of London
“‘What do you mean she was killed?’ Amy said nothing, just nodded. She grasped her shoulder bag closer, as if for reassurance or protection.
‘And because of what she knew? I just don’t get it.’ He looked around; he had not realised his voice had got louder. ‘I don’t get it,’ he said, quieter this time.
‘It’s true, I swear,’ she said. ‘It’s not the sort of thing I would make up.’ Tom gently put his hand on her arm and guided her to resume walking. Now they were on the West Carriage Drive, a bridge which separates the Serpentine from the Long Water.
‘I’m sorry’, he said. ‘Of course I’m not saying you’re making it up. But - but I just don’t understand. The firm the two of you work - worked - for is something to do with market research, isn’t that right?’ Amy nodded.
Tom paused a moment, and then continued, ‘Isn’t that just asking people what type of pet food their moggy likes, or their favourite brand of breakfast cereal?’ She laughed.
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