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love it when you talk dirty to me,’ Jack joked. ‘Especially with that plummy London accent.’
    ‘Plummy?’ Sarah countered, switching to the broad Yorkshire she’d lost after years playing other people, other voices. ‘Ee bah gum, lad, tha mun’t call us plummy.’
    Jack laughed.
    ‘Is that true?’ Sarah asked him. ‘About the secretary?’
    ‘No. You told me yourself in the fall. Don’t you remember?’
    ‘So I did. It’s just . . .’
    ‘What is it? Is something wrong?’
    Sarah shrugged. ‘No. Well, not really.’
    He took his arm away, grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. ‘Come on, Sarah,’ he said in his TV voice. ‘It’s me, Tony Lucillo, your partner.’
    Sarah slipped out of his grasp and turned to face the canyon. ‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ she said. ‘It was just you saying how easy it was to find out things about me. You know, personal details. I got some weird letters, that’s all.’ She turned to face him and touched his arm. ‘Please don’t say anything. I’d hate it if everyone knew about them.’  The music stopped. Sarah heard police sirens in the distance.
    ‘We all get weird letters. I got one from my ex-wife’s lawyer just the other day. She wants more money. Stop being so goddamn British. What was it, threatening, dirty?’
    ‘Neither, really. But . . . well, a bit of both, maybe.’ Sarah turned back to the canyon and told him about it.
    ‘Ooh,’ said a voice behind them when she’d finished. ‘That is creepy.’ Sarah and Jack turned around and saw Lisa Curtis. Lisa looked as gorgeous as ever in a low-cut, strapless black dress, which contrasted with her creamy skin, and her thick, glossy chestnut hair falling in extravagant curls and waves over her shoulders. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘but I couldn’t help overhearing.’
    ‘Oh, it’s you, Lisa,’ Sarah said. ‘That’s all right. Just don’t go broadcasting it around, okay? I could do without the attention. It’s nothing really.’
    Lisa, who played the police dispatcher in the show, pointed to her impressive chest. ‘ Moi ? Broadcast? But I’m the soul of discretion, Sarah, you ought to know that.’
    ‘Right.’ Sarah laughed. ‘Aren’t you cold, dressed like that?’ she asked.
    ‘Goose-bumps are in. Anyway, I think they’re fascinating.’
    ‘What? Goose-bumps?’
    ‘No, dummy. Your letters.’
    Jack excused himself to attend to his guests and said he’d be back later. Lisa cornered Sarah by the edge of the deck. The music started again; this time it was Kiri Te Kanawa singing an aria Sarah recognized from Tosca . Jack sure had catholic tastes, and this was clearly the Italian in him coming out. Te Kanawa’s strong, clear voice rang out over the canyon.
    ‘Something like that happened to a friend of mine,’ Lisa went on. ‘Well, a friend of a friend, really. I mean, I never actually met her. She dated this guy, like, a few times, and he got too serious, too possessive, so she dumped him. Time to move on, right? Like, get a life. Anyway, this is the kind of guy who won’t take no for an answer. He starts sending her letters every day. Like, really graphic ones about the things they used to do together in bed and how he would love her for all eternity and couldn’t bear being away from her body. That kind of thing. Real yukky. Then next it’s phone calls, flowers, the whole deal.
    ‘She tries to tell him she’s not interested, right, but it’s like he isn’t even hearing her. He says he knows she still loves him and she knows it, too, deep down. She’s just like fighting it because her feelings are so overwhelming and so powerful they frighten her. Can you believe it? This asshole tells her if she looks deep inside herself she’ll find the truth and the courage to act on it. Well, she tells him the only thing that frightens her is his behaviour, but he just laughs and tells her not to be a silly girl, like one day she’ll wake up and know it’s true.’
    Sarah