like they’re carrying gallons of diesel, or anything flammable.”
“They think it was a suicide bomber,” whispered Luce.
I gulped down my shot, and reached for the next. Tequila was our preferred option for getting drunk quickly, and I wanted to blot everything out as fast as humanly possible.
Nobody said anything, and we all knocked back another shot. It was weird, but in some ways, I felt closer to Alun here than I had at home. Was that because he’d died here?
The liquor seared the back of my throat, and I gulped another shot.
Tom had arranged hotel rooms for us, and we headed there in a taxi. I’d never ride the underground again. Oblivion beckoned, but I remembered a question I’d meant to ask earlier.
“Who’re Sasha and Tammy?” I wasn’t slurring too badly.
Tom frowned at me. “They’re friends of Alun. Distant relatives, I think.”
“Were they at the funeral?”
“Yeah.” Luce had passed out already, and was safely tucked into Tom’s side. He stroked her hair, and then glanced back at me. “Didn’t you meet them?”
I thought about it. “No.”
“Why d’you ask?”
“Alun mentioned them.”
“Yeah? He was close to Sasha when they were little, but I don’t know him that well.”
The cab sped around a corner, and I gripped the seat to avoid sliding into the sleeping Luce. I thought back to my dream. Had Alun mentioned them to me some time, and I’d only just remembered them? “He said they were hell-raisers.”
Tom grunted, a brief smile flashing over his face. “They were. My mum told me tales of what they got up to.” He stared out the window at the night flashing by, and I followed his gaze. Alun felt closer than ever, and I wondered where we were. Was this near the crash site? No. That had been on the way out of the city.
I leaned across, and touched Tom’s arm. His attention snapped to me.
“Where are we?” I asked.
He looked outside again. “Near Covent Garden. Our hotel is just a few streets away.”
Alun had never mentioned going here. In all our conversations about London, I didn’t recall it ever being mentioned. I rubbed my gritty eyes, frustrated. Not content to dream about him, and to hold long conversations in my head with him, I now imagined my dead lover was close by.
The Tequila had to be to blame. Either that, or I was going mad.
Chapter Six
The Tequila had been a mistake. I awoke to a pounding head, and a taste like old socks in my mouth. Exhaustion swamped me. I wanted nothing more than to pull the covers over my head and never move again, but then I heard Alun’s voice.
“Livs.” I lifted weary lids to see him sitting cross-legged on the bed next to me, fully dressed, and with a familiar teasing grin on his face. “At last. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“You have?”
“We don’t have long, and I need to show you something.”
I hid a yawn. “Okay.”
“Come on, sleepy.” He held out a hand, and wriggled his fingers. His smile was irresistible, making me remember our first date and how entranced I’d been. The pub in Cornwall. We’d drunk local beer, and watched the sun setting over the harbor, with Alun claiming a place next to me.
My mind jumped back to Alun watching me, his head cocked slightly to one side. “You coming?”
“Of course.” I clasped his hand, and just like that, we were somewhere else. Open countryside, soft grass underfoot, and mountains surrounding us. Tilting my head, I looked up to see a brilliant blue sky, the sun blazing down. Like all my dreams with Alun, it could have been real. Birds called, and sheep bleated in the distance.
“Wales?” I asked.
“Snowdonia.” He gave my fingers a quick squeeze, before releasing me. He stepped back, shoved both hands into his pockets, and gazed at me, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You trust me, don’t you, Livs?”
“Of course.”
“And if I asked you to keep something a secret, to tell nobody at all, you’d agree?”
I’d promise