Yolande ran her hand up the back of her neck, over the combs in her French pleat. The scent of vanilla perfume wafted across my face. ‘No, no. Sandra’s on her own in London. I think so anyway.’
‘So this could be one of his dinner parties?’
‘She didn’t say. But whoever’s there, it’s probably best not to mention Danny this evening. For some reason Danny is not popular with Effo and his friends. Shall we go across Trafalgar Square and down Pall Mall?’ I was so entranced to be with a woman who could give good directions that I didn’t ask exactly why Danny was not a friend to Effo, whether it was his contract killing or the fact that he was so bad at staying out of prison, let alone how a relationship with Danny fitted in with having a husband, and where this friendship with me came into it.
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