Georgiana looked at the receipt. And then at me.
And Dorian looked at his mother looking at the receipt.
And I watched him understand, in about three seconds, that I knew what day it had been bought on.
And that I knew who had bought it.
And that I now knew there had been a Thursday.
He opened his mouth.
And the doorbell went.
Twenty past one. Exactly. Margit is very good at her job.
What happened after.
He was served in his own hallway, with his mother standing behind him holding a glass of Sancerre.
He did not make a scene. Men like Dorian never do, in front of uniforms.
He left with one officer and a holdall. The other stayed with me for forty minutes and took photographs of my face in the kitchen, in daylight, from four angles.
Georgiana left without speaking. She walked out to her car and sat in it on my drive for about twenty minutes, not driving away, and then drove away.
She has never contacted me since.
The criminal case took ten months. He was charged with assault. He pleaded guilty in the June, on the morning the trial was due to start, when his barrister told him who else was on the witness list.
