“No, not really. Derry’s arranged for me to have dinner with him and someone who can probably help me with the case I’m working on. But I wanted to check if it’s all right with you?”
Freya laughed.
“It sounds as if it’s already settled! What would you do if I said I’d planned to cook a three-course meal accompanied by fine wines and am now mortally offended?”
“God, you haven’t . . .”
“No, of course I haven’t. I was going to cook for you, but probably something quick picked up from Waitrose on the way home. As it is, you’ve given me enough warning to change my plans and go to a lecture that’s on at the V & A this evening instead.”
“Thanks. If you’re sure you don’t mind. Sounds a bit of a heavy way of ending a working day.”
“Not really. It’s about early twentieth century fashions. As you know, clothes interest me.”
“Well, I hope you enjoy it. And that you’ll have something to eat.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not like me to skip supper. I may buy something before it starts. I take it you’ll be coming home eventually – not spending the whole night out, are you?”
Freya’s question was studiedly casual.
“Of course not. I’ll probably be quite late, though. If you’re in bed, I’ll be quiet.”
“I should hope so. Don’t forget to call Katrin, will you? Have fun!”
“Thanks. I . . .”
Freya had already rung off. Without being able to put his finger on quite why, Tim knew that she didn’t believe him. She was right not to, but almost certainly for the wrong reason. Or was it the right reason? Tim felt both confused and guilty. He decided to call Katrin straight away.
He’d just placed the call when Derry Hacker came back. Tim put his hand over the phone.
“Give us a few minutes, Derry would you?”
“Sure,” said Derry, shrugging. “I just wanted to say that the table’s booked for 7.30. It’ll take us half an hour to get there, so you’ve got more than an hour before we need to leave. I keep spare shirts here if you want to freshen up.” He smiled knowingly.
Tim pretended not to notice the smile, but the offer was a tempting one. Although he’d managed not to vomit on his clothes, his shirt felt stale and sweaty. A quick wash and change would make him much more comfortable and in a better frame of mind for dinner. Although at first he’d been annoyed with Derry for inviting Patti, he’d come round to the idea. The relationship between them had been strained for too long. A relaxing evening with a few drinks would help them to clear the air, and Derry’s presence would act as a safeguard – not that Tim thought Patti remotely capable of becoming a siren.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’d appreciate it, if you don’t mind.”
“OK. I’ll come back in a few minutes.”
When Derry had gone, Tim realised that he was still holding the phone in his hand. He turned it round and looked at the screen. ‘Call dropped’, it said. Cursing, he pressed the speed-dial number again.
“What are you playing at, Tim?” said Katrin crossly when she answered. “You’ve just kept me on hold until I lost you.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I’d pressed the button when someone came in and disturbed me. I’m on my own again now. Did you have a good day?”
“Yes, thanks. We’ve just got in. Sophia’s very tired and she hasn’t eaten yet, so I won’t be able to talk for long. But she seems to like it at Mrs Sims’.”
“What about you? Good first day back? Anything interesting cropped up for you?”
“Mostly routine stuff. Helping Andy to settle a dispute between two farmers, and one or two other bits and pieces. But I’m going to have to go now. Can you call back in a couple of hours, after she’s had her bath and gone to bed?”
“Umm . . .”
“Well, if you can’t just say so,” Katrin continued snappishly. “Has Freya got something planned?”
“No, she’s going to a lecture at the V & A. I’m spending the evening with Derry and a colleague. He sends you his regards, by the way.”
“Really?” said Katrin. “You’d better say I send mine back, then. Is the colleague anyone I know?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Tim couldn’t think of anything else to add; he was appalled by the lie even as he said it. There was a long silence.
“OK, well, I hope you enjoy yourself. Perhaps we can talk some more tomorrow? On Skype, so that you can see Sophia?”
“Yes, that would be great. Sorry about this evening. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” said Katrin perfunctorily, before ending the call.
Tim sighed. He’d now managed to lie to both Freya and Katrin, convincing neither, when he had no intention of doing anything that would upset either of them. All he was trying to do was to avoid giving either of them cause for concern – or disapproval, he was forced to admit. He’d been unwise to allow himself to be pushed into this situation by Derry. Perhaps he should back out of it now, go back to Freya’s and have a quiet evening and an early night. He’d probably feel the better for it. He could call Katrin again then, too.
Derry returned, bearing a crisp blue shirt swathed in a polythene laundry cover.
“Here you are, old son. Collar size is probably a bit big for you, but presumably you’ll leave it open.”
“Derry, I’m not sure I can make it. I haven’t been feeling too good, and . . .”
“Sure you can make it. You’ve stuck it here all day, haven’t you? If you’ve got a touch of something, a couple of drinks’ll do you the world of good. What’s the matter? Has your sister been getting at you?”
“No. Actually, she’s quite pleased, because there’s something she wants to do this evening.”
“Well, there you are. If you go back to hers on your own, you’ll have to fend for yourself. Much better to have a decent meal with me and Patti. Besides, Patti will be really disappointed if you cry off now.”
“That’s what worries me. I was very fond of Patti at one time – still am, in a sort of way – but the real relationship between us has been over for years. I don’t want her to think that I’m trying to kindle that spark again, because I’ve got no intention of doing so and I don’t want to hurt her. I’d like you to take note of that, as well.”
“Relax, Tim. You flatter yourself. It’s just a dinner between three old friends. Nothing more. You seem to think I have some kind of ulterior motive, but I assure you I don’t. Not where you’re concerned, anyway. I admit that at the back of my mind there’s a faint glimmer of hope that she might take more of an interest in me. You’d be helping me out in that respect. She probably won’t agree to come if she finds out it’s just the two of us.”
Tim hesitated. He’d gone right off the idea of the dinner and wasn’t convinced that Derry was telling the truth. And even if he was, Tim wasn’t sure that he wanted to play the pander on Derry’s behalf. Much as he liked his old colleague, he had no doubts about his fickleness where women were concerned. If Patti succumbed to his charms, she’d be bound to come to grief.
“Be careful with Patti, Derry. She doesn’t deserve to get hurt.”
Derry whistled.
“Look who’s talking!” he said with a smile, though Tim didn’t miss the hard edge that had crept into his voice. “Butter wouldn’t melt! I suppose you’ve never done anything to hurt her. Anyway, if you’re so worried about her feelings, you’d better come along as chaperone.”
Tim returned the smile uncertainly. He didn’t want to fall out with Derry: he was grateful to him for the trouble he’d taken to help with the Verma case. Eventually, though, he gave in because he couldn’t summon the energy to resist further. His head was beginning to throb and he knew Derry’s assertive nature could turn nasty if crossed. He stood up and took the shirt.
“OK, you win. I agree that it’s unreas
onable of me to back out now. But you know it’s true that I’m not feeling well. I want to get back to Surbiton quite early – before Freya comes home, if possible. So just the restaurant, not a pub crawl afterwards. We can go out drinking on another evening, when I’m feeling better.”
“Right you are,” said Derry chirpily. “I can’t say I’m much into pub crawls myself these days, not during the week, anyway. We’re both getting old! If I were you, I’d barricade myself into the gents pretty swiftly,” he added. “Once the cleaners get in there, they won’t let you in. It’s worse than trying to enter a nuclear exclusion zone.”
“Thanks for the tip,” said Tim. “And for the shirt. I’ll try to make myself look presentable.”
Chapter 14
Tim’s call has upset me and made me very angry. I don’t know what’s got into him recently. I know he’s worried about the case he’s working on – though his attitude to it seems odd. It’s as if he’s hell-bent on going to India, whatever the evidence indicates. Juliet’s not the only one who’s sceptical. I’d like to talk more to her and Superintendent Thornton about it, but I don’t want to be disloyal. I suppose this is just a blip: Tim’s always been impulsive and I’m certain those malaria pills he’s taking are having an effect on his mind. But he doesn’t seem to understand that I need his support now, just as I’m starting work again. He was so helpful with Sophia at first, sharing the chores as much as he could. Usually I can cope with him going off at a tangent occasionally, but this time it’s going to be difficult. At the back of my mind I can’t help wondering if he sees the trip to India as a way of escaping for a while. And I really don’t know why he had to stay with Freya. It would have been much more convenient for him to check into a hotel in London. The force would have paid. I didn’t protest at the time because I thought Derry Hacker might suggest Tim stayed with him, but it looks as if they’re socialising together anyway. Derry’s very bad news – how bad, I can’t tell Tim without causing a row.
I’ve fed Sophia and am about to take her for her bath when the doorbell rings. Holding Sophia in my arms, I look out of the living room window to see who it is. I’m surprised to find that it’s Margie standing there. She turns to look at me and gives a half-smile. Sophie waves both arms excitedly. It’s clear that Margie’s scored a hit with her.
I go to open the door, still holding Sophia, who stretches out her arms to Margie and plants a kiss on her cheek. I laugh. Margie seems pleased.
“Margie!” I say. “This is a surprise.”
She stands in the doorway uncertainly. She’s wearing a tight black T-shirt that clings to her rib cage and three-quarter length black leggings. She’s painfully thin.
“I hope I’m not being a nuisance,” she says. “I can come back.”
“No, it’s OK. I was just going to take Sophia for her bath. You can come with us if you like.”
“I’ll give her her bath if you’d like a rest, Mrs Yates.”
I look at her again. Her face is thin and hollow, her skin almost transparent.
“Have you eaten?”
She looks down at her feet.
“I had lunch at Mrs Sims’,” she says defensively.
“Would you like to bath Sophia while I make some supper for us both? Then we can talk in peace, after we’ve got her settled.”
She nods, still hesitant.
“I’d like to give Sophia her bath. I don’t eat much in the evenings.”
“It’ll just be a snack. Nothing fancy. And thank you for bathing her. I’ll show you where everything is.”
I head for the bathroom and Margie follows a few steps behind.
Chapter 15
Juliet Armstrong, just home from work, sighed as she caught sight of her reflection in the hall mirror of her small flat. There were lines on her forehead and the beginnings of crinkly skin around her eyes. She’d chosen the new hairstyle to boost her confidence, while knowing deep down that nothing so trivial could have a lasting effect on her mood.
She’d be thirty-four next birthday and had been doing the same job for seven years, living in the same flat and working with the same colleagues. Despite two serious attempts to share her life with a ‘significant other’, she was still alone, and, if she was completely honest with herself, still uncertain about her sexuality. She had no close family: she’d been born in New Zealand and her few distant relatives, most of whom she’d never met, still lived there.
Entranced by Spalding and the magical fens and farmlands surrounding it when she’d first arrived, she was beginning to wonder if this was really the place where she wanted to spend the rest of her life. If there were any prospect of promotion, she might feel more upbeat, but she and Andy Carstairs and Ricky MacFadyen were all treated as exact equals by DI Yates and Superintendent Thornton. The South Lincolnshire CID Division needed a Detective Sergeant, but Juliet had overheard a conversation between Tim and Thornton that suggested that they’d be choosing someone from outside with the express purpose of preserving the equilibrium between these three colleagues. Juliet had raged inwardly at the knowledge that her two seniors believed they could manipulate the appointment so glibly, but knew there was nothing she could do about it. If she and Andy and Ricky all applied for the job, she knew they’d all be interviewed. Neither Tim nor Thornton would be stupid enough to do otherwise, even if they had no intention of appointing any of them. It was short-sighted of them, even so. Did they expect all the DCs to be content with staying in the same job forever?
Juliet sighed again and kicked off her shoes. She ought to cook something for supper – she’d had to skip lunch – but couldn’t find the energy. Instead she fixed herself a stiff Bloody Mary and sat down with it and a packet of crisps. She’d flinched from sorting out her thoughts for too long. It had taken all her resilience to keep on an even keel after the split with Louise Butler and she’d been reluctant to delve deeper below the surface than she had strength for. Now she knew it was time to stop this emotional drifting and put more purpose into her life.
At the heart of the problem was her relationship with Tim Yates. It wasn’t a sexual problem: she wasn’t one of those deluded doormat women who fell in love with her boss and turned her whole existence into becoming his willing slave. She didn’t remotely fancy Tim, for one thing, and she got on too well with his wife, for another. She had no intention of encroaching on their personal territory. But until recently she had believed that Tim held her in high esteem and appreciated her more than the others: that she was, in fact, a prima inter pares. Now she doubted it, which meant that she’d probably been wasting the past three years at least looking after Tim when she should have been focusing on developing her career. She smiled wryly. If this was true, then she had been deluded; just not in the usual way.
Nevertheless, she was worried about Tim. He’d always been a bit bumptious, thoughtless rather than uncaring, but ready to admit when he was at fault and usually deeply sorry if he wounded feelings. Now, however, he was ploughing a furrow that was not only lonely but decidedly strange. There’d never been any doubt that he was the team leader – that was his job, after all – but during this last case he’d hardly consulted the team. The quality of his work was slipping, too. The old Tim Yates would not have called her mobile and then forgotten what he’d wanted when she’d got back to him; would never have forgotten to send samples of Ayesha Verma’s hair to be tested.
He’d been so headstrong about how to tackle the Verma case that Juliet had more or less had to go behind his back when deciding to involve Katrin. Admittedly, Superintendent Thornton had encouraged Tim’s approach at first, but now he’d definitely got cold feet, though he hadn’t been honest enough to admit it. Perhaps Thornton was also part of the problem. Tim had been using him as a sparring partner for so long, allowing him just about enough deference not to get himself into trouble, that maybe it had warped his judgment. It was also possible that Tim was worried about h
is own career, his own future, though he was not much older than Juliet and had made much better progress. Like her, however, he’d been in the job for a long time.
Then there was this business about Peter Prance. Had Tim really spotted him twice in two days while he was in London? To Juliet it seemed unlikely, especially if it had been Prance on the first occasion and he’d noticed Tim: he’d have taken good care that Tim didn’t see him again. No, the supposed Prance sightings must be a red herring. Had Tim’s subconscious summoned them up as a cypher for all the crooks who’d got away? Did they indicate a profound lack of confidence in Tim in his ability to do his job?
Juliet’s glass was empty. As she rose to refill it – one more wouldn’t hurt – she realised that, once again, she’d allow her thoughts to be hijacked by Tim and his plans and problems. If she had another drink, she must take care to dedicate it to forging her own independence. Both methodical and introspective, Juliet had since childhood found it helpful to write things down. Taking an A4 pad from her briefcase and arming herself with a fresh drink, she settled down on her sofa again, this time intent upon an exhaustive SWOT analysis of her own career.
Chapter 16
As I heat up the remainder of the Bolognese sauce I made yesterday, I hear Margie singing to Sophia. She has a beautiful voice. She pauses, and there is laughter. Sophia is enjoying herself. It’s going to be easy to get her to sleep this evening.
I’ve just put the spaghetti into the boiling water when Margie appears.
“She’s sleepy now, Mrs Yates. I’ve laid her in her cot.”
“Thank you. I’ll go up and settle her. Help yourself to a Coke if you’d like one – there’s some in the fridge. And give this pasta a bit of a whirl, if you would.”
Sophia is almost asleep when I look into her cot. I lean over the side and smooth her curls, kiss her on the cheek and rearrange her sleeping bag to make her more comfortable. She barely stirs.
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