“We’ll be some time,” Emily said, “better not.”
They watched the taxi drive away, and then they walked into the building and up the stairs.
George went first, then Nick, then Emily, then Max, clutching his umbrella, and finally Poncho. They were quiet. The soft scraping of their shoes on the coconut matting sounded like the scamper of rats.
George paused outside the flat door.
“This is it,” he said. “Shall I ring the bell?”
Nick pushed him aside, looked at the lock, took something from his pocket, and a moment later there was a soft click as the door opened. The light was on in the lobby, and a door opposite was ajar. There was a light on in the room.
Emily touched George’s arm and motioned him forward. He shook his head, but again she pushed him. So he went into the room, leaving the others outside in the lobby.
The room was large and well furnished. Cora was sitting in an armchair A cigarette dangled from her thin mouth. She was still wearing the white silk-and-wool sweater and wine-coloured slacks. There was a scraped-bone look on her face, but her lips were twisted in a humourless smile. She was holding a packet of pound notes in her hand, counting them with rapt concentration.
George stopped just inside the doorway, looking at her. Her fingers ceased moving and she raised her head, fear jumping into her eyes. When she saw who it was, her mouth tightened.
“Get out!” she said, folding the notes quickly and slipping them into her pocket.