Dinner at Luigi’s
Lucy’s heels clicked on the pavement like a metronome. She weaved in and out of the hordes of people, some milling, others marching, some on their own, others in laughing groups of friends, couples hand in hand. The noisy bustle of London was calming. It wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Here she was anonymous. Nobody knew anything about her. She could forget all that had happened and concentrate on savouring the sights and sounds, the smells from food shops and restaurants, Chinatown draped in banners of red and gold, music blaring out from an old radio tied to the front of a rickshaw as its driver scrolled his phone.
She closed her eyes and willed James to walk in. She imagined him smiling as he approached, heard his apology for
