Was Amie so wrong to go to Harry’s house after they’d split, and wait for him, on the day he’d been fired for no reason with a take-out and a bottle of wine?
Was she wrong to go back on another day and put up all the pictures of her that he’d put away, and rearrange his clothes?
Should she have gone again and played his CD’s, stood in his shower, laid in his bed, and left before he returned?
They’d been together for seven years. She’d thought they’d eventually marry. She never worried when; she just felt sure it would happen at some time. He’d told her he loved her, and she had done the same. They were the like oxygen; an essential to each other’s existence. They had common interests, laughed and joked a lot, liked the same food, and made love often and spontaneously. Their friends talked about them as ‘coming from the same mould, and a relationship made in heaven.’
Then Harry was charged and acquitted of a crime he didn’t commit: being in possession of indecent images of children. It was a set-up. People were out to get him. He got off, but it shattered him. After the case, instead of greeting Amie, who’d supported him throughout the long, arduous trial, with an embrace, he said he wanted to split, and told her to remove her stuff from their house as soon as possible. He gave no explanation: it was almost an order.
After a year, when his brother and sister were murdered and he set out to find the killer, he went to see Amie, unannounced, to ask for her help. She thought he wanted to get back together.
That’s when she started her uninvited visits to his house.
Was she so wrong?
Her unwillingness to let go nearly cost her life.
More about Amie Lau in Playing Harry, the first epic story of Harry Fingle, where he beat off two assassins, only to be stopped by MI6 and the CIA.
Also available as a paperback.