“Solo coffee drinkers flicked through newspapers, bar staff cleared lunchtime debris and cleaned tables, Horse sang “Breathe Me” and Rory wrote copy. Lindsay was online, browsing the newspaper archives, trying to get up to speed with her native land in the third millennium. There was, she thought, something very soothing about it all. She could hardly believe how quickly her general sense of malaise at being back in Scotland had fled. If nothing else, it told her how much she needed work to give... her a sense of purpose. Now, if only Sophie would give up this madness, she would be entirely content. The calm was shattered by a new arrival. His voice carried from the front bar right through to the back booth. “I’m looking for Rory McLaren,” the thunder said. Lindsay looked up to see the husband from the previous evening’s police press conference waving a twenty-pound note under Annie’s nose. “Through the back, corner booth,” she said, trousering the twenty without missing a beat in her stocking of the fridge.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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