'I think you deserve this treat,' Sam said, stepping ahead of Elsa and dramatically opening the door to the restaurant.

'Hmm,' she said, her eyes narrowing.

Sam watched the sunlight race over the windows, reflecting the silvery hue of the river beside them. He was still trying to find his way through this new world of bright, polished surfaces. He felt that for years he had lived amongst damp corners, in the dank atmosphere of bedsits. But taking in the sparkling cutlery, and the elegant dresses around him, he felt like he was finally stepping into the light. A blistering modern light, that blasted away the squalor of his past.

He looked at Elsa, who was taking in the hubbub. He considered her elfin, Gallic look, which still attracted so much male attention. Her floral summer dress displayed flashes of her legs that were a little too slim.

A waiter swept them to their upstairs table with a hearty wave. He seated them at a table close to the window, which overlooked a quayside blooming with sun. The river played upon the windows of the surrounding offices like a distant mirage.

Elsa loved these displays of chivalry from Sam. In the early days he would take her for dinner even when he evidently couldn't afford it. Once or twice an extra drink had been too much, and he'd had to offer to wash up, but he'd been useless even at that. But this time she suspected there was more to it than just generosity. He kept pulling the slightly dirty curtains of his Mowgli-style hair out of his large, blue eyes.

'I wish I wasn't going to dinner with all this dust in my hair,' she said, coiling a blonde lock around her finger.

'We've been working all day,' Sam said, his eyes scanning over the menu. 'Everything's in the house now. Besides, this is my treat. I want to talk to you.'

She ordered a glass of white wine and concentrated on Sam. 'You want to talk to me?' she asked. 'What does that mean?' She paused. 'It's about that phone call, isn't it?'

He took her hand, and she offered in return a small smile. 'I'm so glad that we've taken the plunge and got a place together,' he said.

She laughed. 'Give over, Sam. I had to drag you kicking and screaming into any sort of a domestic life, and you know it. You'd have spent the rest of your life eating Super Noodles and wearing a sock for a belt.'

'I know. You were right,' he pressed. 'I couldn't keep living like that. I know it wasn't good for us.'

'Wasn't good for us? I think it would have been the end of us, Sam.'

The remark seemed to cause a pronounced drop in the temperature.

'Not quite,' Sam responded. 'I know this is my last chance. I'll become a proper man about the house. Changing light bulbs, using a feather duster.'

'You'd end up using it in the bloody toilet, Sam. Anyway, you don't have to worry about all that. We get a cleaner and have a caretaker. Part of the deal.'

'Does he know how to use the taps? Because I can't bloody work them out.'

'But I think that's part of the fun, you know?'

'Not being able to wash? Yeah, definitely.'

She tossed her head back. 'Don't be a twat. So who was this call from? A credit card company?'

He leaned in. 'No.'

'How could anyone else have got our number yet?'

'It was from a guy called Martin Graham. From this book publisher. Mason House.'

'Go on.'

'He's heard that Robert Wardner has been confirmed as alive, for the first time in twenty five years.'

'Oh god. That National Grid guy? Didn't he murder some girl?'

'That was never proven.'

'It was you who told me about it. Why else would he suddenly take off, vanish like that?'

'He was unable to finish this incredible record he was making. Now there's talk that he's going to reform the band and complete it. And this publisher was asking what I knew about it all.'

'Why?'

'Well, I'm guessing he wants someone to track down Wardner. Tell the story about how he vanished, in a book.'

She cocked her head. 'If he did kill someone, he's hardly going to want his story told, is he? If he's in the habit of killing people who intrude on his life, you're just going to make yourself a target.'

'I doubt it. I wrote some of the first major articles about him, ones that helped him get famous.'

'You were a teenager then. You can't be chasing after men like that in your forties!'

'But you don't choose when these opportunities come along, Elsa. This is my chance to finally make my mark on the world. Plus, I think it could make us some money.'

She pulled a bread-stick out of the basket, and looked as though she might snap it.

'The call centre work is regular though, Sam. Something we can rely on.' She closed her eyes for a moment. 'The house deposit cleaned us out. I can't see any way we're even going to make the first mortgage payment.' She folded her napkin into a tight, hard wad. 'Perhaps dinner wasn't such a good idea ...'

'Elsa, if I can convince this publisher to give me a commission to write the book, it will more than pay for that first instalment. Shifts at the call-centre certainly won't.'

'You'll be happier there once the regular pay starts to come in.'

'Elsa, it's bloody awful there, like being a hen in a coup. I want to do something creative with my life. How am I doing that now? I play on people's fears about getting burgled, to convince them to get stupid burglar alarms. When I can't even work the ones in my own house!'

'They're state of the art, that's why.'

'They're unnecessary.'

'And a book about Robert Wardner is necessary? Sam, come on. Not only is he dangerous but you ... you could end up getting sick again. I couldn't bear it.'

'How would I get sick? I'd be getting that fire back in my life!'

'But that fire didn't do you any favours, did it? When you should have been at university like every other eighteen-year-old you were instead obsessing over them at home. By your own admission, that was the first step that ended with you getting ...' She stopped herself.

'You can say it, Elsa. They won't ban us from coming here for olives if you say it.'

'Getting institutionalized.'

'But that wasn't just about them. And besides, I did go back to university, because otherwise we wouldn't be together, would we?'

'You went back eight years after everyone else.'

'That was because my head wasn't right, not because of the band. I had to do something with that time, which is why I used it to research them.'

'Perhaps a bit much? Come on, Sam, that counsellor said you needed to stay clear of anything dark. Especially now. We've worked so hard to get here.'

'All that will pay off now.'

'Well it doesn't seem a pay-off to me, Sam. Not on the day we had promised to leave all that behind. Come on, this is your last chance.'

'But you know it makes sense. Come on, Rodders. This time next year we could be millionaires.'

She smiled, and cupped her hand over his. The small silver ring on her middle finger sparkled for a moment in the white light. 'I love that you have this passion. I know it isn't easy for you right now, but this will pass.'

'Give me the chance to prove that it is possible, Elsa. That we don't have to spend our time on this planet doing things we detest.'

'Come on, it's not that black and white. Look at what's happened with me at the gallery. Any day now Malcolm is going to give me my first...