‘She’s just said it’s 5e.’ Cat started walking, following the sign.
‘You speak German now, do you? I didn’t even catch that.’
‘Oh . . . I did one of those little apps during lockdown. Paul spent his time shooting people on his PS4, so I thought I’d do something a bit more useful with my time. I was never a baker or a crafter, and, besides, you can never know too many languages, can you?’
He said something to her that sounded like it might be in Mandarin, then laughed. ‘I said: you’re right. Well done. You can sort everything out for us in Berlin then.’
The train was already waiting at the platform. She couldn’t see how long it was, but it was double-level and it was bright and shiny – and a flutter of excitement fizzed around her stomach. This was really happening. She wondered for a moment about Paul. They would be taking him to another police station, where no doubt they would be far less polite now that he was accused of murder. At least, she hoped that was what was happening. He would crack, she knew. He might’ve been strong enough to lie his way through what happened with Samantha, but there was no way he was getting out of this one. Not without a very expensive lawyer. Tough to pay for that on his delivery-man salary.
They’d want to talk to her, of course. But they’d have to find her first.
She let Frank carry the bags on to the train. ‘Let’s get these in the cabin and then we can relax,’ he said, reaching for her hand. She let him squeeze it.
‘Why don’t we head straight to the restaurant car?’ she said. ‘I could really do with that drink now. Plus, they need to do all the checkin stuff for the cabins. The host will come and find us.’
He frowned, but then she squeezed his hand back and he relented. ‘Alright . . .’
They walked along the train until they found the restaurant car. There were a few others in there, with the same plan. The bar staff were already serving them drinks. Frank pushed the bags up on to the overhead shelf and she glanced up at hers, making sure it was in there securely and wouldn’t fall down. And making sure she could lift it down herself, if she needed to. She was letting Frank help her because she was tired, but she wasn’t about to become complacent. He slid into his seat and started rummaging around in his bag.
‘I’ll get us some drinks,’ she said.
He looked up. ‘They’ll come to us . . . it’ll be table service.’
She ignored him, but a flash of irritation hit her. This was how it had started before. A bit of advice here, a bit of help there. Then he was calling twice an hour to check where she was, who she was with. Turning up at her room in the halls of residence late at night, on nights where she said she couldn’t see him because she was studying. Checking if she was there.
It had been supposed to be a bit of fun, but he’d become obsessive. Which is why she’d known he was the right person to help with her big plan. He’d always said he would do anything for her, and when she’d emailed him out of the blue a few months ago, he’d been so excited to hear from her. And so ready to start a new life with her. ‘The one who got away’， he called her. Yes, she had. As soon as she had realised what a control freak he was. But he was exactly what she needed now. They’d finalised the plans in London, him coming to meet her. And that was the night they’d slept together, after all those years.
She laid a hand on her stomach, still wondering about the implications of that.
The woman behind the bar was more than happy to serve her there. She asked Cat what she would like, and Cat replied in perfect German. The woman smiled. She’d made out to Frank that she’d just played around on an app, but actually, she was almost fluent. Another string to her bow. One that was coming in very handy right now when she had to explain to the woman that she wanted a large gin and tonic, and just a tonic – but please make them look exactly the same. Ice, lemon. A packet of salted pretzels.
‘Danke,’ Cat said, smiling.
The woman smiled back.
Three drinks later, and Frank was slurring his words. ‘Did you sort out the money?’
She nodded. ‘It was easy. The phone thing was a piece of piss. For someone who works in banking he’s surprisingly lacking in security. I saw the fingerprint smudges on his keypad. Ginny’s birthday.’
‘So you’ve got the money?’
‘Yes,’ she repeated, patiently. ‘Codes entered via both of our phones. All set up like he said it would be.’ She smiled. ‘If only Ginny had come to me when the inheritance came through, instead of her stupid, cheating husband. Then none of this would have had to happen . . .’