Читать книгу Maxwell's Demon онлайн

48 страница из 77

‘I’m worried he might be in trouble,’ I said, planting my elbows on the table and pushing on. ‘I think this might be – not a cry for help, but . . . it’s like he’s being as intriguing as he can, just so I’ll get back to him.’ I waited, but Sophie didn’t reply. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about it,’ I said. ‘I mean, why not say more? Why just send this? I haven’t heard from him in years, and now . . . He’s trying to make sure that I reply. This and this,’ I waved a hand at the Polaroid and the note, ‘it’s a hook, isn’t it? A pretty decent hook too.’ I turned over the letter to show the address written on the reverse. ‘He’s letting me know where he is, and he wants to make sure that I’ll write back.’

‘And will you?’

‘Yeah. Well. That’s the plan.’

Sophie’s big blue eyes were hard and bright as polished glass. I felt as if I were being unpicked, one stitch at a time.

‘But you haven’t written back yet, is that what you’re telling me?’

‘No, I haven’t written back yet,’ I said.

‘Good.’ Her eyes flicked away from mine, to the Thames rolling by outside the pub window. ‘Then don’t. It’s for the best.’