‘God, Jazz, but you're getting bigger by the day!'
`Bigger every time you see him, you mean,' said Sarah with a sideways glance along the top of the living-room sofa to where he sat holding his smiling son high in his outstretched arms.
`Yes, okay, don't rub it in. I missed you two every moment — most of all sitting on that hilltop.'
She slid along the leather couch and nestled beside him as he lowered the baby to his shoulder. 'Want to tell me about it?'
He shook his head, as much to clear his mind of a sudden vision of Vaudan's dying eyes, as to answer her question. `You're sure Arturo's going to be okay, though?'
`Yes, absolutely. He'll be home by now, maybe even in the care of the fair Veronica. As bullet wounds go, I've done worse while shaving.'
Not Vaudan's though,' she said softly. 'Just as well that kid was a crack shot.' She looked at him: their eyes met, and she knew for certain what she had really known all along. She squeezed his arm. He nodded. They were silent for a time as the room lost the sudden chill that had crept in.
Eventually Bob looked down at her once more. `You rescheduled that dinner party yet?'
'No. There's no chance for weeks. They're going off on holiday next Sunday night.'
`Sometime, though?'
`Yes, sometime.' Skinner nuzzled Jazz. 'How about our other kid? How's she been?'
`I've never seen her happier. She wants to see you.' `What's this? A new guy in her life?'
`That's for Alex to tell you.'
'I tried to call her from the road, in Glasgow, but all I got was the answering machine.'
`Yeah, you would. She isn't in Glasgow. She's staying through here for a while, with a friend.'
Skinner gave his wife a curious look. She held up a hand. `Don't ask. Alex's business.'
`Christ, you women. Samson had no bloody chance, had he?'