Chapter Four
IT WAS SATURDAY LUNCHTIME. Rafferty frowned and replaced the receiver as Jenny Warburton’s ansafone picked up for the third time in as many hours. He had left a message each time, but Jenny hadn’t returned his calls even though she’d told him only yesterday that she would at home from 10.30 onwards.
As he pushed out of the public phone box – having forgotten to charge up either his mobile or the one Nigel had given him – Rafferty reflected sadly on the changing fates. At one time – and not so long ago either – he had only to pick up his so-called ‘little black book’ and he’d have an amusing companion for the evening and often a satisfying partner for the night as well. A gift from his Ma, his little black book was actually sky-blue with a rainbow arching over both front and
