The Impossible Fortune

Elizabeth, a recently widowed former MI6 operative, is the founder of the Thursday Murder Club, and the person to whom the other three members traditionally look for leadership and investigative acumen. In The Impossible Fortune, Elizabeth begins her arc still deeply buried in her grief over her husband’s death. Nick’s request that she help him solve the mystery of a car bomb left to kill him catalyzes her arc as she begins to reconnect with herself and her friends. Across the novel, she ultimately learns that, as part of a team, others have contributions and ideas of their own, and that theirs deserve to be considered as often as hers. Elizabeth is used to being the quickest and most perceptive, but Nick’s case presents her with multiple examples of ways that she benefits from the support and skillsets of those she loves. For example, although she herself is shocked by the return of her appetite on the first day of their investigation, she’s surprised to see that Joyce anticipated it. When Donna tells her she has information about Jill and Jamie Usher, she can see “Elizabeth calculating angles in her head and coming up with nothing,” which makes Elizabeth “go on the attack. She usually does when she’s rattled. Or when she’s not rattled” (210). Osman characterizes Elizabeth as often unyielding and oblivious to others’ feelings, which makes her and Joyce a complementary pair.

By the novel’s end, Elizabeth realizes that she has not “been at her absolute best” and that this doesn’t make her “useless” (305). She is “now part of a team” (305), which means that her “grand plan” doesn’t have to go perfectly; there are others to help. Significantly, when the club makes their last visit to Davey, “Joanna has the armchair, the alpha seat, which, historically, would be Elizabeth’s. But [Joanna’s] earned it” (305). For Elizabeth to give up the “alpha seat” represents a departure from her prior view of herself as the unassailable head of the group. Everyone else has brought something valuable to the table, so “Elizabeth gives a slight bow of the head to Joanna, in deference to the alpha armchair. You have to be careful with people” (307). Elizabeth’s revelations presage a kinder, gentler Elizabeth, whose grief has made her more empathetic to others in pain.

If Joyce is somewhat oblivious in her interactions with Joanna, Ibrahim is oblivious in his interactions with most people. He provides thoughtful insight and advice to his patients and his friends, but he struggles to apply his perceptiveness to his own life. For example, although he sagely counsels Joanna and Paul on their wedding day, he completely overlooks the upshot of how Connie mentors Tia. Though he stands just a few feet away, he misses Connie threatening the rude young man in the café at gunpoint. He thinks of himself as a “hawk” who never overlooks anything, but he struggles with feelings of “uselessness”—similar to Elizabeth and Joyce—during the club’s investigation. One morning, he sees people headed into church, and realizes that “We’re all just trying to make sense of things, and you must take meaning wherever you can find it” (125). Joanna identifies his loneliness when they dance at her wedding, and it comes to the fore when the club splits up on the morning after Holly’s death: each to their own task, all except Ibrahim. He thinks that he “could probably join [Elizabeth and Joyce] if he really wanted to, but one doesn’t like to ask” (129). Everyone in the group has someone else with whom to fill their time, but he “wonders how he might fill the empty hours” of the “long day […] stretching ahead of him” (129).

In the end, Ibrahim’s struggle with feelings of uselessness is resolved when Ron asks Ibrahim’s forgiveness for lying about what he intended to do with the Bitcoin code. Ibrahim wants to feel a sense of belonging, and he has increasingly welcomed new ways of doing that, culminating in allowing Kendrick and Tia to stay with him. After Ron executes his dangerous plan to get Danny arrested, Ron tells Ibrahim that he loves him and explains his desire to protect his family and his friends. Ibrahim responds, “A few years ago I wouldn’t have understood. Not particularly. But if anyone were ever to threaten Joyce, or Elizabeth, or … you, I would move heaven and earth to protect you” (337). This understanding encompasses Ibrahim’s dynamism as a character; he comes to recognize that love takes so many forms and that he need not feel lonely because he lacks a particular kind of love in his life.

Ron shares Joyce’s warmth and staunch convictions about helping and protecting others, and he, too—like his friends—is a dynamic character who subverts the stereotype that older folks are incapable of change. Even after Danny sends a hit man to murder Jason in his home, Ron refuses to talk to the police. He and Jason don’t “grass.” In British slang, “grass” refers to the action of informing on someone to law enforcement. Jason even tells Chris that it’s part of their “culture,” by way of explaining just how important the principle is to them.

Ron’s decision to work with the police to get Danny’s confession and bring him to justice legally represents a shift from his previous penchant for vigilante justice. This, after all, is Ron’s first plan; he even tells Jason that they must “be smart” about how they deal with Danny. However, “It’s important to have principles, it really is, but, Ron reflects, as he sees Danny being led away, face contorted in anger, he knows he did the right thing [….]. There are worse crimes than grassing” (328). To Ron, Danny’s abuse of Suzi constitutes a far worse transgression of principle than Ron helping the police to catch him. Thus, Ron gives up his principles, which he considers “The greatest sacrifice of all,” to ensure the safety of his family (327). To Ron, the sacrifice of his principles—not his life—constitutes the ultimate sacrifice, and so this example demonstrates his dynamism in the text.

Connie, a secondary character, follows a dynamic arc that allows her to grapple with the consequences of her choices for others, not just herself. The prospect of disappointing Ibrahim, who genuinely cares for her, pierces her emotional armor and catalyzes growth. When Connie brings Tia to Ibrahim’s apartment, asking him to hide her from authorities and telling him the truth about her “mentorship,” Ibrahim’s sense of disillusionment makes Connie feel guilty for the first time in her life. Now, however, after Connie let down her friend and mentee, the narrator says, “Tia looks scared for some reason [….]. [Ibrahim] looks scared too. Why do they both look scared? Connie hears an unfamiliar noise and realizes she’s crying” (228). As Connie develops an awareness of the incongruence between the person she wants to be and the person she is, based on her actions and the way they affect others, her evolution begins, leading her toward deeper friendship and community.

Connie decides to help Ron catch his daughter’s abuser because she thinks that she “would like to do something good” (228). Although Ron helped to put her behind bars, Connie chooses camaraderie and forgiveness over revenge. Ron thinks, “Connie Johnson had delivered [Danny], just as she promised [….]. [Ron] and Connie had talked about it and talked about it. How to stop this man who had hit his wife” (328). Taking action to help others brings Connie into the fold of the Thursday Murder Club, allowing her to use her unique skillset to benefit others. Connie uses her contact with Danny, another known criminal, and the fact that she’s a client at the Compound to set up the meeting and help Ron gain access to the Bitcoin. For the first time, she uses her power for good.