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By Root 1693 0

And I knew where I was going next. To Malcolm's. To his shop, to raid his shelves. To get the lowdown on Bella Edgeworth, to ferret amongst his paperbacks and get the full story. I sped towards town, crossed the river – the amount of driving I did you'd think I'd be quite good at it – skirted round the centre and headed down St Giles. The larger bookshops wouldn't be open yet, but one of the ways Malcolm stole a march on the bigger stores was by tempting customers in with an early-morning coffee and a possible purchase on their way to work. I swung a left down Clarendon Street. He'd be there.

I parked in the little cobbled yard at the back. Good: just Malcolm's car. Changing my wellies for a pair of old flip-flops on the back seat, I got out and hurried round to the front. Quietly opening the shop door, I glanced through the archway to my left… but no. No one there. No sign of Poo-Face. In fact, the whole shop was empty and still in semidarkness, save for Malcolm, who was behind the counter at his computer, glasses perched on nose. Cinders was lying at his feet. He peered over his specs as I came in. Beamed.

‘Darling! You're up bright and early. What a treat.’

‘Malcolm.’ I shut the door and hastened towards him urgently. ‘Malcolm, have you heard of Bella Edgeworth?’

‘Yes, of course I have.’ He took his glasses off. ‘She writes those lovely Victorian romance books. All crinolines and petticoats. Why?’

‘Lovely? You think they're lovely? I thought they were more sort of… throwaway and trashy.’

‘Well, they're not highbrow or literary, if that's what you mean. But they're certainly very charming. And very accessible.’

Oh God. Like her probably. ‘Sexy?’

‘No-o,’ he said slowly. ‘Not really. I mean, a hint, but it's always dot dot dot and shut the bedroom door. No throbbing members, if that's what you mean. I've got some here. Why?’ He got up and went to the shelves to peruse.

‘Because she's the sodding ex-girlfriend, Malc. The one with the child!’

‘Oh!’ He turned in astonishment, stared at me. Alarmingly, his eyes began to shine. ‘Oh, how thrilling' Oh, Evie, d'you think she'd do an event for us? A reading? She's awfully popular.’

‘Malcolm!’

‘No, no, sorry. Silly me,’ he said quickly. He snatched a couple of books from the shelves and hurried back with them. ‘But you must admit, quite exciting. And so much better than a Doreen, don't you think?’

‘From whose point of view?’

‘Well—’

‘You mean, if one's fiancé is going to shag another woman and have a lovechild, much better that she's beautiful and famous?’

Malcolm shifted his weight onto one leg and scratched his chin thoughtfully. ‘Ye-s. Yes, I think that's exactly what I mean,’ he declared defiantly, deliberately ignoring my sarcasm. ‘The daughter's bound to be a chip off the old block – great genes, especially with Ant as the father. How much better than traipsing a couple of dogs round the Bodleian?’

‘Oh, yes, marvellous. Perhaps they should have some more? I could give guided tours to any number of tall, blonde brain boxes. Recreate the Aryan race!’

‘Now don't be like that, petal. As I said the other day— Oh!’ He broke off as he flipped open the back cover of one of the books. A young woman of quite astonishing beauty was revealed. Her hair was long and blonde, her eyes doe-shaped and limpid, her cheekbones high, her lips full; her bosom too, what one could tantalizingly see of it in the bottom left-hand corner. It had clearly taken Malcolm's breath away, and he was of the other persuasion. Mine too. We stared at it together.

‘Right, that's it,’ I whispered, when I could tear my eyes away. ‘I'm off to Magdalen Bridge. I'll be the one on the riverbed with stones in my wellingtons.’

‘It's probably a good picture,’ he soothed, snapping the book shut. ‘Vaseline on the lens, lots of retouching.’ He was looking inside the other one now. ‘Oh God…’

‘Let me see!’ I lunged.

‘No, no.’ He held it up high, out of my reach.

‘Even better?’ I breathed.

‘Well…’

I jumped and snatched it from him. Flipped it open.

‘AARGHH!’ I dropped it. Then I collapsed into his chair