***
"Ken, I have to be really quick. Zoé's outside in the car with Jack. She won't come in but this is really important. You remember when Simon Urquet was here a couple of days ago."
Ken's eyes lit up. "And he promised us a reward for saving DCI."
"Wrong. He promised me and Zoé a reward. We're the ones who put our lives on the line with that wretched Berlitzan Oil the Heinmans made. Simon left his contact number here. I need it. I know exactly what reward we want."
"Something to do with the baby, kiddo?"
"Yes, I want Jack to have treatment in America. There's a clinic in New York that specializes in treating cancer in small children. They've got some brand new kit that focuses a tiny beam onto the..."
"Say no more." Ken gave a look of disgust and shook his head. "You know I don't have a stomach from medical details. Especially when it involves eyes. Here's Mr. Urquet's card. Use the Swiss number. After you dashed off, he said he was going to the DCI office in Switzerland and would be in touch later. Now go down and check on the little lady."
Matt took the card. "Thanks, Ken." He hurried down the stairs with Zoé's words still ringing in his mind. I am sorry I ever came to England and met him.
He stopped for a moment in the office yard and looked at his new car. Well, it was far from new, but a reasonable replacement for the orange Mini that finally failed to pass its annual test.
The white and spotty-rust-colored Ford Fiesta was parked with the window down. Zoé was in the back with Jack who was still strapped into his baby seat. She was on the phone and hadn't seen him.
As he went forward to tell her the good news about being able to contact Simon Urquet, he heard Zoé say the name Florian. He couldn't catch all the words but it seemed she was talking to her old boyfriend in France. Her ex-fiancé. Again he recalled Zoé's words: I am sorry I ever came to England and met him, although she wasn't saying it now.
If she really was talking to Florian, he had to put an end to it. He went to the car and jumped into the driving seat. Zoé immediately finished the call. He wasn't going to say anything about it yet. Yes he was. There was no point in worrying. It had to be brought out into the open.
"Was that France you were calling?"
"You were listening?"
He detected a certain amount of hostility in the question. "You had the window down."
"Yes, France."
"Your parents?"
Zoé made a noncommittal grunt.
"Everything okay with them?"
Another grunt that could have conveyed anything. Okay, he'd leave it for now. Anyway, it was possible that Zoé was talking to her parents in the Auvergne, and they might have said something about Florian. No, he couldn't make himself believe that.
Zoé leaned forward from the back seat. "Well," she demanded, "what did your precious Ken have to say?"
"Let's go home. I have to phone Simon Urquet. Ken's given me his number."
He put the car into reverse. It made a crunching sound, but so far the Ford Fiesta had proved reliable. He felt sick. Sick because of the diagnosis from the consultant specialist, and sick from thinking that Zoé had been in touch with her old boyfriend in France. And how long had she been contacting him? This might have been going on for ages.