TWENTY-TWO MILES AWAY, Kate Daniels parked her car in the fishing village of Low Newton-by-the-Sea, one of her favourite places along the North Northumberland coast. Taking a bottle of red from the passenger seat, she climbed out, feeling a rush of pleasure as she scanned her surroundings.
Breathing in the fresh salty air, she admired the starry sky, the moonlight dancing on water, the waves crashing on to the shore. Jo’s rented cottage was situated a spit off the beach. Picture perfect, it sat at one end of a single-storey whitewashed terrace with a small porch out front. No wonder she’d chosen to live here.
Jo was a little unkempt when she answered the door, as if she wasn’t expecting company and had just pulled her grey knitted dress over her head and hadn’t bothered to comb her hair afterwards. She was barefoot, her slim legs wrapped in footless tights, toenails painted a deep shade of plum that matched her lipstick perfectly. The neck of her dress was pulled a touch too low at one side revealing a hint of pale lacy underwear.
‘Come in quick before you’re blown away.’ She straightened her dress, wriggling her body into it, hopping on one foot to adjust one leg of her tights. ‘As you can see I’m running a little late, sorry.’
‘No need to apologize.’ Kate stepped inside.
‘Emily phoned. She had a visit from one of your lot. I think it gave her a bit of a fright.’
‘Problem?’ Kate took off her coat.
‘You could say that. She left the prison with the bloody keys!’
‘Oh dear.’
The smell of burning candles and the crackling of logs hit Kate’s senses as she walked into the living room. Handing Jo the wine, she kicked off her shoes, the warm glow of the fire making her feel right at home. Her eyes scanned the tiny space her ex had made her own in the short time she’d lived there. It was really cosy and she told Jo so.
‘It’s basic but comfortable.’
‘It’s a whole lot more than that!’ Kate said.
There was an awkward moment between them, a beat of time as they abandoned the present in favour of the past. Getting a bolthole at the coast – somewhere they could escape the rigours of life in the fast lane – had been high on their agenda when they were living together. Low Newton-by-the-Sea was their place of choice and the small cottage fit the bill perfectly.
‘It wasn’t intentional, Kate.’ Jo looked away, embarrassed. ‘It was the only one-bedroomed cottage available this close to the beach, I promise you. I needed it for Nelson. I didn’t do it to hurt you. You know I’d never—’
‘Hey! Don’t worry about it. I’d have done the same in your shoes.’
‘Liar!’ Jo smiled nervously, relieved that Kate wasn’t about to make an issue of it. ‘Come on, I’ll show you the rest.’
The tour didn’t take long. This was not a family pad. You could fit the whole cottage into two rooms of Jo’s permanent home – a Jesmond town house not far from Newcastle. There was a double bedroom, a shower – no bath – and a galley kitchen at the rear with stunning views over the shoreline of Newton Haven. And then they were back in the living room where they began. It had enough space for a two-seater sofa, a flat-screen TV, a square dining table, two chairs and little else. To the right of the fire was Nelson’s bed. He was curled up in it fast asleep, next to a huge, empty, log basket.
Jo’s eyes fell on the very spot. ‘Shit! I forgot the logs. Supper’s on the stove. Can you give it a stir while I pop out a sec?’
Kate offered to go.
‘It’s fine,’ Jo said. ‘There are steps down to the log store. You’re liable to break your neck if you’re not used to it. Help yourself to a drink. There’s a bottle breathing on the kitchen bench or soft drinks in the fridge if you prefer. I know you don’t partake on a school night. Won’t be long.’
Kate took three steps into the kitchen.
The cast-iron pot on the stove had no ladle. She called out, ‘Where will I find the—?’
Too late: the front door slammed shut.
Her phone rang: Hank.
She didn’t answer. He was more than capable of holding the fort for a few hours without bothering her with trivia. Besides, he was the one hell-bent on getting her and Jo together. Now she was here, Kate had no intention of running out. If the matter was urgent he’d leave a message.
There was a selection of spices and herbs in the first drawer Kate tried. In the next one along, she found a wooden spoon. Dipping it into the sauce, she helped herself. Licking her lips, she smiled. Jo always forgot the pepper. Finding some in a wall cupboard, she added a little and was about to put it back when something struck her as odd: a small framed photograph laid face down on top of a row of tinned tomatoes. Hidden, she suspected, from her prying eyes.
Lifting it down, she saw why.
It was a happy snap of the two of them, taken a couple of years earlier on a beach that was, quite literally, two paces beyond the kitchen wall.
She didn’t pack light then.
Hearing the front door opening, Kate quickly replaced it.
THEY ATE AS soon as supper was ready: linguine with a sauce Jo had conjured up from nothing, a few fresh ingredients she had in the fridge, some oregano and olives thrown in, a green leaf salad. To go with it, German sunflower bread steeped in extra virgin olive oil, rubbed with roasted garlic cloves.
Kate couldn’t remember enjoying a meal more.
Passing on the wine, she poured Jo a glass, watching her tuck into her pasta. It felt unsettling being in the same room with her when they hadn’t seen each other socially for months. Eating with her, especially in candlelight with soulful music filling the air, required a level of intimacy she’d missed since they’d split up.
‘I’m stuffed,’ Jo said, pushing her plate away.
‘Me too . . .’ Kate put a hand on her stomach to labour the point. ‘That was delicious, above and beyond considering I invited myself along at such short notice.’
‘You always were pushy.’
‘I never heard you complaining.’
Nelson snorted, making them both laugh, taking the heat out of the conversation. His body twitched. He opened one eye and then closed it again. Rolling over on to his back, he splayed his legs out giving them an eyeful of what Hank Gormley would refer to as his Gutiérrez.
‘God!’ Jo laughed. ‘He’s such a slut. You want dessert?’
Kate blew out her cheeks. ‘No room.’
‘Me neither.’
They cleared away the dishes together, replenished their glasses and returned to the living room where Jo stoked the fire and joined her guest on the sofa. Panic seized hold of Kate. This was the point of the evening when the small talk was over and they would turn their attention to her murder case, safer ground for both of them. But the photograph she’d found in the kitchen kept edging its way into her thoughts. She wanted to mention it, to ask Jo why she’d felt the need to conceal it. Instead, she said nothing – fearful of spoiling the moment she was hoping still might come.
They talked about the case. Then, to Kate’s surprise, the conversation drifted to more personal matters, the good fun they had enjoyed at home and at work in the preceding years. Relaxed and happy, Jo pulled up a footstool and turned off the standard lamp, plunging them into the past and the room into semi-darkness.
In flickering candlelight, Kate reached for her hand, began stroking it. When Jo didn’t pull away, she leaned across and kissed her gently on the lips. There was no resistance – no words exchanged – just an intense closeness between them. Caught up in the moment, Jo responded, tentatively at first, then with an urgency that surprised and excited her former lover.
Kate groaned as her mobile rang.
Jo pulled away, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.
Kate let the phone ring out, cursing Hank. She knew it would be him. Who else would it be? When it stopped, she kissed Jo again. This time her whole body responded. Altering her position, she straddled Kate, a mischievous grin spreading over her face, eyes on fire.
‘We’ve a lot to thank him for,’ she said.
Kate felt a pang of guilt.
Crossing her arms, Jo took hold of the hem of her dress, peeling it off in slow motion. Dumping it on the floor, she unclipped her bra, causing it to fall from her shoulders. The sight of her naked flesh took Kate’s breath away. Her pale breasts were full, her dark nipples enormous. She smelled wonderful. Her skin was soft, her back warm from the fire.
‘If you stay the night—’
‘If?’ Kate pulled a face. ‘Where else would I be staying?’
‘There’s no bacon and egg in my fridge.’
‘I’m not on Dukan. Give me toast.’
‘No bread, sorry.’
‘Stop talking.’
They kissed again.
A mobile rang. Jo’s this time.
‘Shit, shit shit!’ She grinned at Kate. ‘I’m ignoring that!’
‘You sure?’
‘Fuck’s sake! Course I’m sure . . .’ Easing herself forward, Jo whispered in Kate’s ear: ‘Don’t make me wait. I’ve missed you so much.’
‘You drive me mad,’ Kate said.
Jo’s desperation had always been appealing. If she was up for sex, she never held back. The woman was shameless and totally uninhibited. Kate ripped off her shirt as the mobile died, leaving only the sound of pounding waves outside, the odd crackle of firewood, her own heartbeat.
Two seconds later the house phone rang. They both tried to ignore it but the answer machine kicked in. Emily McCann’s voice pushed its way into the room. She was very distressed. ‘Jo, if you’re in, please pick up. It’s Rachel. She hasn’t come home!’
Grimacing, Jo shut her eyes.
Kate sighed.
The magic had gone.