The Warning Read Free Page A

it a dildo covered in love hearts?”
    I can’t be bothered to respond to this insulting suggestion.
    “How can you give it to him, anyway? You don’t know where to find him.”
    “I can try. I heard him say the name of a company, when he was talking on his phone. Camigo, or Camiga. Maybe that’s where he works. It should be easy enough to find.”
    Lorna groans into her pint of ginger beer shandy. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you? You’re planning to track him down. Don’t. Listen to me, Chloe.”
    “Do I have a choice?”
    “Tom Rigby came to your and Freya’s rescue when you needed it. He was the savior of the moment, for twenty minutes one Saturday morning, but the moment passed, as all moments do. You thanked him, and now it’s over. You’re back to being strangers. All this making him presents and trying to find him, it’s not about thanking him properly. Can’t you see that? You’re craving a repeat performance—more of his magic. You want him to save you again. Maybe for longer this time, right? Maybe forever.”
    “Lorna, I don’t want to marry Tom Rigby. I don’t know him.”
    “You want to get to know him,” she says accusingly.
    “No! Look, I just don’t want to let him disappear with no more than a ‘Thank you so much’ from me. I want to put myself out for him, like he put himself out for me and Freya. So, yes, I’ve made him a present,” I say defiantly. “Not because I want him to scoop me up and ride off into the sunset with me, but purely for the sake of doing a nice, generous thing. What’s so wrong with that?”
    Lorna shakes her head. “You know what? Part of my issue is that this guy sounds too nice. ‘Ma’am’? ‘Your Highness’? I mean, yuck! Okay, so he didn’t steal your wheels—and who can blame him? That Volvo’s a rusty old heap of junk—but what if the whole ‘Look, I’m giving you back your car keys’ thing was a ploy to reel you in?”
    This idea is so absurd, it makes me laugh. “Well, then he failed, didn’t he? Like you said: as far as he’s concerned, he’s never going to see me again. And why on earth would he want to ‘reel me’ anywhere? You think he took one look at me screaming at Freya on Bridge Street and thought, ‘That woman looks well-heeled. I’m going to come to her rescue, charm her into marrying me, then murder her and inherit her cash ISA that’s worth all of fifteen hundred pounds’?”
    “That’s true.” Lorna casts her disapproving eyes over me. “You don’t look as if you’ve got anything worth inheriting. All right, I’ll be blunt. Blunt er , I should say. I’m suspicious of Tom Rigby for one reason only: because you’re not. Don’t be offended, Chloe, but you’re a terrible judge of character.”
    “And you’re my best friend. So if you’re right, what does that say about you?” I sigh. “Is it really so terrible that he called me ‘Ma’am’ and Freya ‘Your Highness’?”
    “No,” Lorna concedes. “You’re right. We have no reason to think Tom Rigby is anything but lovely.” She leans both her elbows on the table and glares at me. “That’s why he doesn’t deserve to be psycho-stalked by you. He did you a favor—great!—and then he said good-bye and walked away. Did he ask for your number? No. Did he suggest meeting again? No. So give the poor man a break and leave him alone , Chloe.”

 
    Chapter 3
    “U SELESS G OOGLE !” I mutter at my computer screen later that same night. It’s nearly 1 A.M. I really ought to get some sleep, but I’m too stubborn. I refuse to go to bed disappointed. And since Freya is at my mum and dad’s until lunchtime tomorrow, it’s the perfect chance for me to do some research.
    I can’t find any company called Camigo or Camiga that looks as if Tom Rigby might work for it. There’s Camigo Media, but they make games apps for mobile phones. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t what Tom’s business call was about. He was discussing a bank, I think.