The sun was going down when Lulu and Conrad arrived outside Jane’s house. She lived in Salford, a twenty-minute drive from where they had moored The Lark. This Uber driver’s name was Marcus and he was a student at Manchester University. ‘Have a fun night,’ he said as Lulu and Conrad climbed out of the car.
‘We intend to,’ said Lulu. As the Uber drove away, she looked up at the house. It was red-brick and detached with a garage at the side, and a neatly tended rose garden at the front. There was a white Audi sports car parked outside the garage. A curtain twitched in one of the upstairs windows. Lulu looked up. Was that Jane? The twitching stopped. Perhaps it had been the wind.
She walked up the driveway and rang the doorbell. Jane opened it almost immediately, so it couldn’t have been her at the upstairs window. ‘Lulu! You made it! And Conrad!’
Conrad meowed and jumped down off Lulu’s shoulders. He brushed against Jane’s legs, his tail straight up in the air.
‘Welcome to my humble abode,’ said Jane, ushering them into a hall and closing the front door. ‘Let me take your coat.’
Lulu slipped off her coat and Jane hung it on a Victorian coat stand. Conrad was already walking down the hall. There were stairs ahead of them and doors to the left and right. ‘Jeremy is in the kitchen,’ said Jane.
Conrad turned to look at Lulu. He had obviously had the same thought – if Jeremy was in the kitchen, who had been watching them from upstairs?
‘So you used an Uber?’ asked Jane.
‘It’s so easy,’ said Lulu. ‘We use them all the time. Is that your sports car outside?’
‘The Audi?’ Jane laughed. ‘No, that’s Jeremy’s. His boy toy, I call it.’ She took them through to the kitchen, a large room with marble worktops and stainless-steel appliances and a pine-cladded island with four stools around it. There were glass sliding doors that led to a conservatory, and beyond it a garden dotted with flower beds. ‘Oh, where’s he gone?’ asked Jane.
‘Sorry, darling, I just popped to the bathroom,’ said a voice behind them.
Lulu turned to find Jeremy standing in the doorway, and her first thought was that yes, he did very much have a George Clooney vibe, though he was several inches shorter and a few pounds heavier. He had gelled black hair, a carefully cultivated five o’clock shadow and eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He was wearing a pink linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, to reveal a Rolex watch on his left wrist and a thick gold bracelet on the other, and tight-fitting jeans that looked as if they might be Versace.
‘You must be Lulu,’ he said, his voice treacly smooth with just a hint of an Irish accent. ‘I’ve heard so much about you.’ He stepped forward, took her hands in his and kissed her softly on both cheeks. ‘It’s so lovely to finally meet you.’ He looked down at Conrad. ‘And this must be Conrad,’ he said. ‘The cat who goes everywhere with you.’
‘Yes, he does. My constant companion.’
‘Well, he’s a charming fellow,’ said Jeremy. ‘Though I have to say I’ve always been a dog person myself. You know where you are with a dog. If they’re happy they wag their tails, if they’re sad they look sad. Cats have such blank eyes, don’t they? You can never tell what a cat is thinking.’
‘Oh, I usually have a pretty good idea of what’s going through Conrad’s mind,’ said Lulu.
He finally let go of her hands and went over to the stove. ‘Well, I hope you like lamb,’ he said.
‘Love it,’ said Lulu.
Jeremy bent down to peer through the glass door of the oven. ‘We’re having lamb tagine,’ he said. ‘A friend of mine has a villa outside Marrakesh and we used to eat at a little place in the local village. I had to force the woman who cooked there to give up her recipe. The secret is to leave the lamb marinating overnight in cayenne, black pepper, paprika, ginger, turmeric and cinnamon. But it’s the saffron and honey that make it special. The great thing about it is that no matter the quality of the lamb, it comes out tasting delicious. I got ours from the local butcher so it’s tip-top, but you can use any old bit of scrag end and still get great results. Jane doesn’t have a real tagine but she has a cast-iron pot that does the job.’
‘Well, it smells absolutely delicious,’ said Lulu.
‘How about some wine?’ asked Jane.
‘Lovely,’ said Lulu.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Jeremy. ‘You girls make yourselves comfortable in the conservatory.’
Jane took Lulu through to the conservatory while Jeremy opened the large stainless-steel fridge. Conrad padded behind them, his tail in the air. ‘This is lovely,’ said Lulu. The conservatory had a terracotta floor and the furniture was white wood with colourful jungle-pattern cushions. There was a large wooden-bladed fan turning slowly overhead and huge ornate urns containing spreading green plants. Jane sat on a sofa and patted the cushion next to her. Lulu joined her and Conrad settled down at her feet.
‘You’ve been here before, right?’
‘Yes, years ago. But I don’t remember a conservatory.’
‘Oh, that’s right. We had it built five years ago. It was all done to Clive’s design but he never really had the chance to enjoy it.’
‘Life can be like that sometimes,’ said Lulu. ‘You keep putting things off and then one day it’s too late.’
‘That’s exactly what Jeremy says. Carpe diem. Seize the day, because you never know when it could be your last.’
‘Your last what?’ said Jeremy, appearing at the door carrying a tray with a bottle and three glasses.
‘Last day,’ said Jane. ‘You have to enjoy life when you can. Treat every day as if it was your last.’
‘Exactly!’ said Jeremy, putting the tray down on a table in front of them. ‘It’s like John Lennon said: life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.’
He sat down on a chair and used a stainless-steel corkscrew to open the bottle. ‘So, where do you stand on corks, Lulu?’ he asked.
Lulu frowned. ‘Corks?’
He held up the bottle. ‘Corks or screw-top. I can’t abide screw-tops.’
‘I always think it depends on the wine,’ said Lulu. ‘I must admit I do love to hear a cork pop on a bottle of champagne or Prosecco, but as long as the wine tastes good, I don’t think the stopper matters much.’
‘I can see why you and Jane are best friends,’ he said. ‘That’s exactly what she says. But for me, it has to be a cork. It’s the tradition. There’s something almost sexual about the uncorking; it’s all tactile, about touch and pressure. Then the cork slides out ever so slowly and you smell the bouquet for the first time.’
‘You make it sound like foreplay,’ said Jane.
‘Exactly!’ said Jeremy. ‘That’s what it is, it’s the foreplay before the partaking of pleasure. And where’s the foreplay in twisting off a cap and pouring? Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. I mean, you might as well drink wine from a can.’
‘I have done,’ said Lulu. ‘And it was actually okay. Better than okay, Simon and I had canned rosé on a picnic once. It was delicious.’
Jeremy shuddered theatrically. ‘If I had known you were such a heathen I would have brought in a Marks and Spencer ready meal and forgone three hours in the kitchen.’
Lulu laughed. ‘I am a huge fan of M&S ready meals. I live on a narrowboat, remember? Very small kitchen.’
‘And Simon was your husband?’
Lulu nodded.
‘Jane said he passed away a year after she lost her husband. She says you were the merry widows.’
‘I don’t remember much merriment, I have to say. Not at the time.’
‘But we do okay now,’ said Jane. ‘Don’t we?’
‘Of course we do,’ said Lulu.
‘Time is a great healer,’ said Jeremy. ‘That’s what they say.’
‘What about you, Jeremy? Have you ever been married?’ Jane had said that he had never married, but Lulu wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.
He shook his head. ‘I came close a few times, but the sticking point was always that I never wanted children. I never had the time, or the inclination, I suppose.’ Jeremy poured wine into a glass and handed it to her, then gave another glass to Jane. He raised his own glass in salute. ‘Great to finally meet you, Lulu. Jane talks about you all the time, so it’s wonderful to finally be able to put a face to the stories.’
They all tasted their wine. Lulu nodded her approval. It was good, and perfectly chilled. ‘You know, Jane has told me almost nothing about you,’ said Lulu.
‘I think she wants to keep me for herself,’ said Jeremy. He looked over at Jane and winked.
‘You’re from Ireland?’
‘I live in Ireland. And my business is based there. Irish corporation tax is almost half what it is in the UK.’
‘And what sort of business is it?’
‘Well, I say business. It’s a company, but all it does is hold assets. Investments that I have acquired over the years. All I do is take the dividends, really. Jane says you were a police officer. That must have been challenging, especially in London.’
‘It had its moments.’
‘You were a superintendent?’
‘When I retired, yes. I was a super for almost five years.’
‘So no glass ceiling?’
‘Plenty of women were being promoted by the time I left.’
‘Was Cressida Dick commissioner when you were there?’
‘She got the top job after I retired. But she was very much around when I was there. She was the first woman assistant commissioner in 2009 when she was put in charge of the Specialist Crime Directorate. And of course she was in charge of security for the 2012 London Olympics. Things were different when I joined, but by the time I left there were plenty of women in top jobs.’
‘As it should be,’ said Jane.
‘No question,’ said Jeremy. He took a drink. ‘What sort of policing were you involved in?’
‘Everything, really. I started walking a beat, I worked serious crimes and homicide. I had spells in New Scotland Yard.’
‘You never wanted to be commissioner?’
‘Me? No. I enjoyed police work, but I couldn’t be bothered with the politics.’
‘You just wanted to catch villains?’
‘I did, yes.’
Jeremy laughed. ‘Get your trousers on, you’re nicked. The Sweeney was a great show.’
‘It was, but nothing like the real thing,’ said Lulu.
‘Television drama rarely is,’ said Jane.
‘And what about you, Jeremy?’ asked Lulu. ‘What was your job?’
‘Jack of all trades, and master of none,’ said Jeremy.
‘You must have done something,’ said Lulu.
‘Oh, I did. Lots of things.’
‘Did you go to university?’
‘The university of life,’ he said.
‘And he graduated with honours,’ said Jane, raising her glass to him.
Lulu smiled and drank with them. Jeremy wasn’t avoiding her questions, but his answers were nebulous at best. He was charming – no question – and he was good fun. But he was also being evasive, albeit with good humour. ‘But you must have had a job, before you retired,’ she said.
‘I did, lots of jobs. But none of them as interesting as yours.’ He savoured a mouthful of wine, but she held his look and didn’t say anything. Eventually he lowered his glass. ‘I bet you were a first-class interrogator,’ he said eventually.
‘I had my moments,’ said Lulu. ‘But usually people want to tell you the truth, they really do. Lying is bad for the soul.’
‘You believe in souls?’
He was very good at getting out of answering questions, Lulu realized, forever leading the conversation away from revealing personal details. ‘Of course,’ said Lulu.
‘What about animals?’ said Jeremy, waving his glass at Conrad. ‘Do they have souls?’
‘Oh, I think so,’ said Lulu. ‘So, let me guess. I think you have the look of an accountant about you.’
Jeremy clasped a hand to his heart. ‘Oh my God, kill me now,’ he said. ‘Really? A bean-counter? That’s what you think about me?’
‘Well, let’s be honest, you don’t have the look of a ditch-digger, do you? Your hands are soft, there’s a nice glow to your skin that suggests top-of-the-range toiletries and you definitely have the appearance of a man who enjoys the finer things in life.’
Jeremy laughed and slapped his thigh. ‘My goodness, you really do have a detective’s instincts, don’t you?’ He looked at Jane. ‘Lulu is delightful, she really is. I can see why you’d want her as a friend.’ He looked back at Lulu and grinned. ‘The thing is, you couldn’t be more wrong,’ he said. ‘I mean, yes, I definitely do enjoy the finer things of life now, but way back when I started . . .’ He shook his head. ‘I was a labourer, Lulu. Working on building sites. Sweating like a pig as I hauled bricks up a ladder in the summer, standing in freezing mud up to my knees in the winter. I left home when I was sixteen. My parents had died and my brother and sister and I were living with our grandparents. They never let us forget what an imposition we were and, as soon as they were old enough, my siblings ran away to Australia. My plan was to follow them, so a mate got me a job on a building site; the idea was to make a bit of cash before I left for Oz. It was hard work but I enjoyed it, and I began picking up skills. If a plasterer needed help he’d call me over; if a chippy needed a hand, then I’d be there. I never did an apprenticeship but I soaked up skills like a sponge. Plumbing, electrical, joinery, roofing, plastering; I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a jack of all trades.’
‘He is very good with his hands,’ said Jane, then blushed as she realized what she had said. ‘That’s not what I meant,’ she said to Lulu. ‘I mean he is really good around the house. My dishwasher was leaking and he fixed that. I had a couple of loose slates on the roof and before I could say anything, he’d taken out the ladder and was up there sorting it out. My dimmer switch broke and he replaced it. He really can do anything.’
‘Impressive,’ said Lulu.
‘Anyway, after a few years I gave up on the idea of moving to Australia and started my own building company. I was actually quite good at it, mainly because I worked so hard. All the hours that God sends. Evenings, weekends, public holidays. I took a couple of younger lads under my wing and the business grew. Then I moved into property development: buying old buildings, doing them up and then renting them out. I made some good contacts within a couple of banks and they started throwing money at me. I never looked back.’ He grinned. ‘And that, Lulu, is the story of my life. But an accountant, never. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know my way around a company report and accounts and I can read a profit and loss statement, but I’ve never been a number-cruncher.’ He held up his hands. ‘And you’re right, I do use lotions and I have manicures and I take care of my hands. But if you look closer you’ll see the scars and callouses from years working outside.’
‘I stand corrected,’ said Lulu. ‘And really, what a fascinating life you’ve led.’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ he said. He took a quick look at his watch. ‘Time to check on the tagine.’
He headed for the kitchen, taking his glass with him.
‘Isn’t he lovely?’ asked Jane.
‘He is, yes. Did he tell you about his building site days?’
Jane nodded. ‘He did, yes. Why?’
Lulu shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It just felt like a story that he was used to telling, that’s all. A well-polished anecdote.’
‘Well it’s his life story, Lulu. I’m sure he’s told lots of people over the years. We all polish our stories, don’t we?’
Lulu smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose we do.’