Free Walking in Darkness by Charlotte Lamb Page A

meaning, or is it just decoration?’
    ‘Art nouveau had a special meaning to the Czechs, it was a time of nationalist fervour, the turn of the century, and art and politics came together in a new way.’ She gave him a self-mocking little smile. ‘Also I love it, OK? I learnt to love it from my Czech father, I guess. And you didn’t ask how much, by the way. That’s the reckless sailor in you, ready to jump ship without knowing what he’s getting himself into!’
    He had never thought of himself as reckless and wasn’t sure he liked the idea. ‘I was getting round to it! So, how much?’
    ‘Four hundred dollars.’
    He was startled by the amount, but under her amused gaze he wouldn’t show it. ‘OK, it’s a deal.’ He held out his hand and she was about to take it when a telephone began to ring.
    Lilli groaned. ‘You know, I hate that thing. Always sounds urgent, always turns out to be nothing at all.’ She walked over to the windowsill where the phone was perched on top of a book. She picked it up. ‘Yeah?’ Then her face changed, she went paler than ever. ‘Oh. When? But how . . . Is she going to be OK? Well, can I see her? What ward?’ There was a pause, then she said curtly, ‘Yes, she has Medicare, of course she does. You’ll get your blood money, don’t worry.’
    She hung up and looked round at Steve. ‘God damn these people. All they care about is can she pay? Sophie can die in the street for all they care—’
    ‘Sophie?’ The name jerked out of him, shock making his voice shake.
    ‘There’s been an accident in the subway . . .’
    ‘That was Sophie?’ He thought how close he had come to finding out half an hour ago and could have kicked himself for driving away.
    Lilli looked at him sharply. ‘What? You heard about the accident? You know what happened? Did you hear it on the radio, or something? What did they say? The hospital wouldn’t give me any details, or say how bad she was.’
    He told her how he had seen the ambulance arriving. ‘They said someone had thrown herself under a train.’
    He felt sick as his imagination began to paint pictures of what Sophie would look like if she had been hit by a train. God, he thought, that lovely face. That body. Even if she lived, what would be left of either? ‘But it never entered my head that it might be Sophie,’ he muttered, his stomach churning.
    ‘I can’t understand how it happened,’ Lilli said. ‘She’s always so careful.’
    ‘When I talked to her she obviously had something on her mind, she was angry about something.’ He glanced sideways at Lilli, wondering just how much she knew, and what there was to know. Maybe his guesswork about Sophie had been way off? After all, the gossip about Don Gowrie was vague; indeed he was sure it had started long ago, before Sophie Narodni came to America. Mrs Gowrie had been ill for a long, long time, of course – there could have been a succession of ‘other women’ in Gowrie’s life. Sophie might just be the latest. And if she was, was she the type to kiss and tell? He didn’t think she was, but women were a law unto themselves. Who knew what they would tell each other? They seemed to need to talk, to confide in each other; they were in an eternal conspiracy against the other sex. ‘But I hadn’t got her down as suicidal,’ he said.
    ‘Suicidal? I don’t believe it. Not Sophie. Look at those faces in her wheel – the peasant strength of people who have survived the worst life can chuck at them,’ Lilli said, her Oriental eyes shadow-ringed with anxiety. She sighed. ‘But then what do we ever know of each other?’
    She was right, Steve thought, especially where women were concerned, Steve had never yet managed to understand a woman, even when he had known her most of his life, like Cathy Gowrie. He had honestly thought he knew her as well as he knew himself, they had known each other since childhood, but how wrong he had turned out to be!
    Lilli vanished down the corridor,