She walked along the side of the house. She’d given a glance at the empty basement flat—it was habit—and she saw that it was as it had been for quite some time, silent and empty. She heaved a sigh, turned the corner of the house, and realised there was someone sitting on the single step that served as introduction to her front door.
It was Salvatore Lo Bianco, and when he espied her, he rose at once. He’d been using his smartphone, which he shoved into his pocket. He said, “Finally, she is here. You are here.” He walked to her swiftly. He was smiling. He did that European cheek kiss thing, where the cheeks might meet accidentally but the lips touch nothing but air.
She said, “What the bloody hell . . . ?” and then with narrowed eyes she added, “Who sent you here, Salvatore?”
“I am not sent,” he said.
“You swear to that?”
“I swear? You think I am sent? Che pazza, Barbara. Who would send me?” He took her arm. “Still, you are looking very well. But you have hungry, yes? No. This is wrong. You are hungry, yes? You have not ate?”
“Eaten,” she said. “Not yet. Why?” And then she saw what she hadn’t noted before. Two Waitrose carrier bags were on the ground next to the step on which Salvatore had been sitting.
He gestured to these flamboyantly as he urged her gently towards the door. “I am very happy for your hungry,” he told her. “Me? I am cooking your dinner.”
“My dinner? D’you actually know how to cook?”
“Madonna mia,” he said to the sky. “Barbara Havers asks can I cook.”
“Well, can you, Salvatore?”
He laughed in delight. “Barbara, Barbara, what do you think? For the love of God, I’m Italian.”
Acknowledgments
Several years ago, a conversation with my goddaughter’s aunt planted the seed for this novel. A great deal of reading on my part was the result of that conversation. The reading was followed by interviews with various people who guided me in my initial steps in putting together the book.
Detective Inspector Allen Davis and Detective Sergeant Karen Bridger of Empress State Building gave me a crash course in what their Strategic Development department does to put an end to the various forms of abuse perpetrated upon girls and women in the Somali and Nigerian communities in London, from female genital mutilation to forced marriage. From them came the idea for Women’s Health of Hackney and for “medicalized” FGM. From them also came the information about ritualized abuse, protection orders, and the criminal charge of failure to protect a child.
The individuals at my US and UK publishing companies made contributions of all sorts, especially Nick Sayers, my UK editor, who connected Deborah Balogun to my work in order to ensure that the details in the lives of the Bankole family were correct. It would be impossible for me to thank Deborah enough, not only for her careful reading of the manuscript but also for her willingness to offer her frank commentary, which allowed me to make the necessary changes in Nigerian tribes, their clothing, their food, their attitudes, and their names.
Once again, Nick Sayers teamed up with my US editors to provide me with a single and thoughtful editorial letter and a list of proposed changes. Once again, the indefatigable Swati Gamble contacted the people I wanted to interview and then set up those interviews for me.
Brian Tart and Gretchen Schmid in the United States proved to be insightful and—perhaps more important—flexible when it came to accepting the extended timeline I needed to finish this book. Gretchen especially was flexible about the potential difficulties I would face with editing and then proofreading online. I am a dinosaur when it comes to technology, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. So I thank Gretchen for accommodating me when it came to proofreading and I thank Brian for accommodating me when it came to everything else.
Ben Petrone and Bel Banta from Viking have done soldiers’ work when it comes to publicizing in the time of COVID; Kate Kehan from Hodder & Stoughton has done the same.
When it comes to things digital, I must thank Nicole Robson of Trident Media Group for her efforts on my behalf, as well as my digital goddess Cindy Peterson and my digital god Clay Fournier.
Robert Gottlieb of Trident Media Group has been guiding the ship of my career for more than twenty years, and I thank him for never putting a single thing on the back burner. Erica Silverman of Trident Media Group may well have pulled a rabbit out of the hat, but that remains to be seen. Fingers crossed.
The current board of trustees of the Elizabeth George Foundation have, for years, done much to free up my time to write: Patricia Fogarty, Barbara Fryer, Blake Kimzey, Chris Eyre, Elaine Medosch, and Jane Hamilton. Charlene Coe has done the day-to-day work of the foundation, taking care to make sure everything gets done when it needs to be done.