‘I was hoping Kate and I could pair up for this job, Sir,’ Colin was saying.
‘Well, you can’t. You’re on with Selby. Miss Power, as everyone knows, is queen of the fucking keyboard. So she can stay put and work her way through this lot. If that suits you, Miss Power?’ Cope leaned his beer belly towards her.
Snapping to rigid attention, she said, ‘Anything you say, Sir. But I understood DCI Harvey might have other plans for me.’ The liaison work with Family Protection.
‘Well he might, Miss Power. But DCI Harvey isn’t here to favour us with his thoughts, is he? He’s on one of these nice high-powered – oh, dearie me, forgive the pun! – high-powered courses that our masters see fit to send us on from time to time. I bet you’ve been on a few yourself, a young high-flier like you? I’m sure we’re all gasping to hear about every single one of them, aren’t we, gents? No? So just cast your beadies over this lot and start tapping away. Selby, Roper – in my office, please.’
Kate switched on the computer. While it played its opening jingle, she stared unseeing at the pile of material Cope had dropped on her desk. Poor Colin. Though he’d never said anything, she had a suspicion she’d not voiced even to Harvey that Cope had his knife into him almost as deeply as into Kate herself. And she’d have liked to work with Colin: to renew her acquaintance with the streets of Brum. As it was – well, it looked horribly like more of the cross-referencing of databases she’d hoped she’d finished with. And it was: car theft from Newtown. Really vital stuff when there was a child molester out there. At least there might be something to report to Cope at the end of the day – that was the best she could hope for.
Meanwhile, she wondered what had happened to Graham. Deep down, somewhere she didn’t like to think about, she was hurt he hadn’t mentioned this course. Not told her all about it. Just mentioned it, in that comradely way of his. But he hadn’t, any more than he’d told her about his sick wife. She pulled a face, and started on the first database.
It was terribly hard to have a row with a man who was cutting your front hedge without even being asked. There he was, Paul Taylor, clipping away with a pair of shears so rusty they must have come out of Cassie’s shed.
He beamed when he saw her: ‘I was a bit edgy yesterday – bad day at work. So this is a sort of sorry present. You did want it cut back, didn’t you?’
‘Want it cut back! Absolutely!’
He stepped back to consider his handiwork: the privet was so old and so overgrown that now he had trimmed back the top, all she had left was a collection of skeletal twigs.
‘Perhaps it’ll bush out in the spring,’ she said, as if to cheer up a child. Her voice lacked conviction, largely because she’d hoped to root the whole lot out.
‘And perhaps it won’t. Oh dear, I did so want it to look nice for you.’
‘Come on: the light’s almost gone now. Let’s have a coffee. I can guarantee milk this time.’ She shook her Sainsbury’s carrier. ‘And chocolate biscuits.’
‘I’ll just get this lot swept up and into the skip. No! Not in those clothes you don’t! Too smart for gardening. You go and get that coffee started.’
She unlocked the door, but turned to gather her bags of shopping. Paul was tidying up the cuttings, sure, but he was taking his time about it. Exasperated, she shoved the shopping into the vestibule, ready to help despite her suit, but he was working with a will by the time she’d straightened. A white cat oozed between the railings the far side of the playground. Paul speeded up again.
‘You’ll be staying here tonight?’ Paul asked.
She shook her head. ‘Tomorrow, maybe. I don’t want to outstay my welcome at the Manse but I can’t insult your sister by saying I’d rather stay in this pigsty. Still, it can’t be long now. The kitchen seems to have arrived.’
He looked puzzled.
‘All those flat-packs and boxes in the front room. There’s certainly a sink there. But alas, no working surface that I can see. And until the working surface comes, they can’t fix the sink.’
‘Cheer up. It’s getting better.’ He put an arm round her shoulder, squeezing minutely, then distancing himself as quickly as he could. ‘How’s the upstairs?’
After a hug as perfunctory as that, she couldn’t suspect him of wanting to get her into bed! ‘Let’s look.’ Cupping her mug of coffee, she led the way. And was so pleased she could have hugged him. The two main bedrooms were carpeted, and the fitter had actually replaced the furniture. He’d come back to do other rooms as and when they were ready.
‘Looks good.’ Paul followed her into the middle room. ‘Do you want to make up the bed?’
‘I’ll leave it to air one more night. And I’d want to dust and vac everywhere. All these rolls of fluff. I wonder –’ I wonder what Robin will say. She made it to the bathroom, retching till there was nothing except bile. Hell. When would her body understand that there was no more Robin, and none of its protests could bring him back again? She slapped cold water on her face. But the towel was too filthy from workmen’s inadequately washed hands to put anywhere near her face. At least they’d left some loo roll. Not much. Good job she’d bought a megapack tonight. As for the towel, it had better join the others in the bulging black sack she’d take to the laundrette. One evening.
Paul was calling.
‘It’s OK. I must have eaten something.’ She rejoined him.
‘Which bedroom will you have?’
‘This, no traffic noise. And this suite just fits.’
‘Georgian, isn’t it? Must be worth a bomb.’ He stroked the mahogany and the lighter wood of the inlay.
‘Edwardian copy, Cassie says. Still worth a bit. Whereas the one that fits the front room is so naff I’d be surprised if even a charity shop will take it. Hey, do the Boys’ Brigade have a bonfire? They could pop the guy on top of that dressing table!’
Paul looked shocked. ‘Strip that down and put on a lighter varnish – it’d be fine.’
‘The colour, yes. But not the shape. I never did like thirties shapes. Would you like it? To be honest I’d rather have the tackiest MFI than that.’
‘You’re serious?’
‘Never more.’
‘Thanks! I’ll get some of the lads to help me collect it.’
‘Can I operate this one, then?’ Kate was in Tim’s bedroom, which was almost entirely filled by a train set. Paul, claiming such matters were over his head, had gone home to attack a mountain of marking.
Tim nodded, not taking his eyes from the model he was fitting on to the track. ‘This is my favourite,’ he said. ‘Flying Scotsman. Though I like King George, too. Can you see the bell on the front? That was from when he went to the States for a visit.’ He looked up. ‘Hey, those coaches are the wrong livery for King George. You need those over there. Great Western livery. See.’
So far as Kate was concerned they were just coaches. But she was spared an embarrassing confession by the arrival of Maz.
‘And what sort of time d’you call this, Tim? Half an hour after lights out, I’d call it.’
‘My fault,’ Kate suggested, not quite truthfully. ‘I love his layout.’
‘Would you like to come and play properly tomorrow?’ Tim asked. ‘I’ll show you which coaches to use and everything.’
Kate looked at Maz. ‘Would you mind?’
‘Mind! I should be delighted! Indeed, grateful. In fact, I was going to ask you the most enormous favour. Night-night, love. Dad’ll be up to say your prayers with you as soon as you’ve cleaned your teeth.’ She kissed him and patted his bottom affectionately.
Kate kissed him too. On the forehead. Like she’d kissed Robin’s children. She hadn’t realised how much she missed them. She could hardly contact Kathleen and ask to see them.
‘Are you all right?’ Maz came back up the stairs and laid a hand on her arm.
This time she wouldn’t even try to pretend. ‘Missing my sort-of-step-children. Dan’s about Tim’s age, Emma about Jenny’s. We used to have them some weekends.’ She straightened. ‘Now, what was the favour?’
‘The kids. Someone’s offered Giles and me tickets for Symphony Hall for tomorrow night. Scenes from the opera.’
‘And you’d like me to stay in with the kids? Fine.’
‘All three? They can be a real pain if they think they can get away with it. I could always get Paul to pop round, too.’
‘No. Honestly. Paul says he’s got a load of assignments to correct, so I’d hate to bother him. No, just give me a set of your ground rules and we’ll be fine. Now, I know you said not to bring any food in but they’d got this offer on smoked salmon, and I thought we could all have a treat. To celebrate Cassie’s diamonds, maybe. I’ve brought a bottle, too.’
‘Fresh bagels, cream cheese and smoked salmon, rounded off with a couple of glasses of white wine. Perfection.’ Giles sat back smoothing his stomach. ‘But you must have the last bagel, Kate. Paul tells me you were ill before you set out.’
‘It’s ever since Robin’s death,’ she said quietly. ‘My partner. In both senses. Police and private. We were on a job. It was all set up, supposedly. We were just going into this warehouse. But we didn’t know about the shooters. Until someone took out the windscreen of one of our cars. The driver lost control and slammed Robin and me into a wall. I was very lucky. Robin pushed me, so all I got was a dislocated knee. But he slipped sideways – trying to save me, I think – and was completely crushed. Except for his head.’
‘My dear.’ Maz took her hand.
‘And since then, sometimes – and I can’t even predict when – I think of something about him and I’m sick. Thought at first I might be pregnant,’ she said. ‘But I’m not. Anyway, tonight I was so pleased with the way my upstairs is looking, I wanted to show him. But I couldn’t.’
For a dreadful moment she was afraid Giles would come out with the terrible cliché that maybe Robin could see everything, but he simply shook his head and poured the last of the wine into her glass.
‘Don’t think I haven’t had support. The squad debriefing, the people in Welfare. Everyone’s given me so much support. They even organised my transfer when I found I couldn’t work with the guy who set up – or do I mean messed up – the operation without throwing up.’ She managed a grim smile. ‘Bit of a bummer, that. Literally sick of the sight of someone!’
‘Have you had much support up here?’ Maz asked.
‘My DCI’s very kind.’
‘To me, that implies not all the others are!’
‘They’re having difficulties with what they see as an undeserved promotion. Hell! Excuse me!’ She dug in her bag for her chirruping phone.
‘Kate?’ She could hardly hear his voice, it was so quiet. ‘It’s Colin here. Are you tied up?’
‘Nothing I can’t untie. What’s up?’
‘If I were you I’d get in here fast. Another missing kid. If anyone asks you saw it on TV. I’ll explain when I can.’ And the call was over.
‘Another missing child,’ she said briefly to Maz and Giles, who were looking at her with concern. ‘I’m sorry. God knows what time I shall be back. I’ll be as quiet as I can.’
Giles was on his feet. ‘I’m taking you in. And you must take a taxi back. No point in courting trouble.’