”“How about, yes? It’s not a place where I’d go by myself.”“All right, Martin. I’ll come with you.”“You don’t have to sound so enthusiastic,” he replied. “I’m not twisting your arm.”Irene faced him and forced a smile. “I’d be delighted.”“Thank you. What day is good for you? Friday?”“I think Friday works.”“Then I’ll make reservations for six. Shall we take your car or mine?”“Why, what do you drive?” she asked.“Tell me what you drive.”“I have a Toyota Prius.”He snorted. “It figures. I have a 1978 SAAB model 99. With three hundred thousand on the clock.”“We had better take my car.”“You’re probably right. If the place has valet parking, and if he set the handbrake then I’d have to crawl under it to release it.”Irene smiled, this time genuinely. “You said it’s a nice place. What’s the dress code?”“I’ll wear a shirt and tie.”“Men have it so easy.” She wandered around his office looking at journals and reprints of papers scattered on his desk, table and window sill. She picked up a. ’ At this point her mobile rang. ‘Who is it?’ I asked. Then I saw her face fall. ‘Karen, what’s wrong?’ ‘We have to get to the Alexandria Hospital quickly. It’s Clint, he’s in a bad way.’ I put my foot down while she reset the sat-nav. *** Interviewer: Clint had suffered a heart attack? DG: He had, a massive one. (Karen comes back in.) Are you all right sweetheart? KC: (Nods.) Just felt a bit queasy. (Dave looks a little puzzled.) DG: We got to the hospital as quickly as possible, but no-one would let us see him. KC: It was only when they realised he had no family, that we were the closest thing to family that he had, and that he was asking for us, that we got to see him one at a time. I was first. (Karen pauses, putting her hand to her mouth.) He looked terrible. (Karen looks down, tears forming in her eyes.) I’d known him since I was ten, my first director. He’d always treated me like I was his daughter. I sat next to him and held his hand. He looked across at me. He told me that.
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