The perfume smelled sweeter than usual as Wendy delicately sprayed the sides of her neck. But then again it had been a while since she'd worn perfume, hadn't it? At least six months? It must have been.
She turned to look at the four dresses which hung from the door of her wardrobe. A simple choice, but impossible to make. To the left, a long, white dress decorated with a rose pattern and a black horizontal band. Too flowery. Next to it, a short black number with a sequinned bust line. Too slutty. She eyed the grey linen one with the collar and chest pockets. Too frumpy. That left the tight green one with the plunging v-neck bust. Process of elimination. Good police work.
Selecting appropriate jewellery wasn't much easier, either. It occurred to Wendy that it had been far too long since she'd been on a date. Almost two years, in fact. Since she had been concentrating so hard on her career, she'd had no time for boyfriends.
All that matters is the police force and the rest of the world can go to hell.
Just as Wendy had selected the diamond-encrusted watch and matching earrings, the taxi honked its horn, perfectly on cue.
‘Well, here goes nothing,’ she said to herself as she descended the staircase.
Wendy arrived at Alessandro's to find Robert Ludford already seated at a table for two. The table was topped with a single red rose and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot was nestled in a bucket of ice.
Alessandro’s had been one of her favourite restaurants for years. It’d been in the town for over thirty of them already, and could certainly be considered for the “hidden gem” status which so many tourists sought. Not that Mildenheath was exactly a tourist destination.
‘Good evening, Wendy. You look beautiful.’
‘Thank you, Robert,’ she said gracefully as if getting ready had been no effort at all.
‘I took the liberty of ordering us some champagne. I hope you don't mind.’
‘No, of course not. That's lovely, thank you.’
Wendy felt distinctly out of place as she perused the menu at Alessandro's. She suddenly realised how long it had been since she’d been here, and what her life had become since. Chicken liver pate served with toasted bread and berry compote. King prawns sautéed in olive oil, garlic and chillies, served with fresh bread. King scallops and king prawns in a white wine and cream sauce infused with chilli. No microwave ready meals for one here, girl.
‘What will you have, Robert?’
“I'm thinking perhaps Il Risotto al Funghi Porcini.”
‘My favourite,’ Wendy said, innocently. ‘I’ll have the same.’
‘Marvellous. So, tell me about this investigation.’
‘Sorry?’
‘The serial killer case. I presume it’s the one you’re on. I've read about it in the papers. Terrible thing to happen.’
‘Yes, it is. I can't really speak about it though, I'm sure you understand.’
‘Of course,’ Robert said, smiling. ‘Do you have any suspects?’
Wendy smiled and exhaled in resignation.
‘Why are you so keen to know?’
‘No reason. It doesn't matter.’
‘Of course it does,’ Wendy replied, taking a sip of champagne.
‘But it sounds so silly.’
Wendy took his hand, sensing that he wanted to say something. ‘Tell me, Robert.’
‘Right, well, if you promise not to laugh.’
‘Promise.’
‘I like to write in my spare time. Novels, you know. I really enjoy writing crime novels about serial killers and murders. It’s stupid, I know. But now you know.’
A slight titter escaped Wendy's mouth, not unnoticed by her date.
‘Wendy, you promised you wouldn't laugh,’ he said, his pride clearly dented.
‘Oh Robert, I'm not laughing at that. I'm laughing at how you dressed it up as some big secret.’
‘You mean you don't find it weird or sad?’
‘Of course not. In fact, I find it kind of sexy.’
‘Sexy?’ Robert asked, smiling.
‘Well, someone who writes crime novels must have quite a creative imagination…’ Wendy glanced at the label on the back of the bottle of champagne. ‘Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so forward. I'm not usually like this, I promise.’
‘Well, I like to think it was my masculine charm rather than the alcohol,’ Robert said, noting where her eyes had darted to.
‘Of course. I'm sorry. I know I've only had one glass but I drink much faster when I'm nervous.’
‘What is there to be nervous about?’
‘Not nervous. Excited.’
Robert smiled.
A few minutes later, the waiter floated to the table carrying two plates of Il Risotto al Funghi Porcini which he placed in front of the two diners.
I hate mushrooms! And where's the bloody meat?!
‘Everything OK, Wendy?’
‘Yes! Looks delicious!’
Wendy tucked into her festering fungus and cheesy gloop, eager not to upset her companion for the evening.
‘So, Robert. Are you not married?’ It seemed a daft question to ask on a date, but Wendy had been caught out before.
‘Me? No. Well, I was. Separated, I guess you might say.’
‘Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,’ she replied, wanting to know more but not wanting to ask more.
‘Isn't everyone? Truth is it just wasn't working out between us. We tried to keep it together but in the end we'd drifted so far apart she ended up going off with someone else.’
Wendy sat in silence, safe in the knowledge that silence made people talk.
‘I suppose I'm just like any other guy, you know? No man is an island. I guess I just want to be happy and feel loved again.’
Wendy smiled and said no more.
At the end of the evening, Wendy and Robert left the restaurant and hailed a taxi. As the taxi pulled up outside Wendy's house, she felt an insatiable urge, leaning over and kissing Robert passionately before getting out of the taxi and heading into her house before saying another word.
Once inside, Wendy nursed a glass of red wine. A million thoughts flew through her head, but above all she realised she must stick to her promise to be completely open with Michael about everything. After all they’d been through, their sibling relationship had to be built on a foundation of trust. She’d decided. She’d tell him about her blossoming relationship with Robert.