Looking For Alex. Marian Dillon

sure.’

      ‘No. I’m not. But it’s tempting too. If it is her. Straighten things out somehow.’ My face in the mirror reflected my doubts. ‘I’m not even sure why that’s important, now.’

      ‘Let sleeping dogs lie?’

      ‘You think I should?’

      ‘I don’t know. I’m just going with your thoughts.’ I remembered how good Fitz used to be at offering insight that made everything seem so clear. Not as Linda does, when I talk to her about Phil, not by listing pros and cons, but by going straight to the heart of the matter. ‘This is your call,’ he was saying now, when what I wanted was direction. ‘But you’d have to be prepared for anything. Anything. Like it or not.’

      There was the sound of a spoon tapping the side of a pan. I wished I could see inside Fitz’s head. ‘What are you cooking?’

      ‘Chilli. A wicked hot one.’

      ‘You still make them like that? Once you made one so hot we had to stick our tongues in saucers of milk — do you remember?’

      He laughed, said yes, he remembered.

      ‘Fitz, don’t ask me to rationalise this, but I just think it is Alex. I’ve got a feeling.’