She said one sentence to me. She had clearly been working up to it all evening.
She said: whatever they put in your name, go and get your own solicitor.
And I laughed.
She was holding her own coat. She had it over her arm, in a warm room, an hour before anybody was leaving.
She had been ready to go for an hour. She had picked the spot furthest from the room, by the rail, where nobody would come.
And her hands were going.
All of that was in front of me and I processed none of it, because I had already decided who she was, from things her brother had told me in a car.
And I laughed.
Not unkindly. I laughed the way you laugh when somebody says something a bit odd at a party and you want to move past it without anybody being embarrassed.
And then, within about an hour, I told Grayson.
