Rhona took a breath, then let her body sink. Relaxing her muscles sent her arms floating of their own accord, her breasts swaying gently with the water. She thought of her pregnancy, almost two decades before. How she’d loved lying in a warm bath, the mound that was her unborn son a small island in the water. Almost twenty years ago.
I was a child, who bore a child and gave it away, to be raised by strangers.
As her brain repeated the mantra she periodically rebuked herself with, her muscles began tensing again. Rhona breathed in and this time dipped her head below the water. Despite her efforts, small bubbles of air immediately escaped through her mouth and nose.
How long before I breathe in water? Not long and even less if I panic.
She was counting now. Counting down the seconds before she would have to give up and rise to the surface. The water enveloped her and she had the sensation of being pulled deeper, reminding her of an incident when she was a child. Paddling at the edge of a loch, her feet had gone from under her and she’d dropped like a stone into the freezing water. The shock had made her gasp and she’d breathed in water. It might have been over in seconds had her father not pulled her out unceremoniously by the hair.
‘Rhona?’ The voice floated towards her from what seemed like an immense distance.
She opened her eyes just as a hand reached in and yanked her to the surface.
‘Christ, Rhona, what the hell are you doing?’
She finally opened her mouth and sucked in air, with all the desperation of a smoker taking a nicotine hit.
Sean’s expression was so furious, Rhona almost laughed.
‘A scientific experiment,’ she said.
‘Like fuck it was.’
He hauled her upright.
‘Here.’ He thrust a towel at her. ‘You’re freezing. How long have you been in there?’
Rhona ignored the proffered towel, stepped out of the bath and took her robe from behind the door. ‘A while. I was thinking about drowning.’
‘What?’
‘About the science of drowning. Anyway, how did you get in?’
‘I still have keys, remember?’ He flourished them at her.
Rhona tied her robe, suddenly conscious of her nakedness beneath, and headed for the kitchen, Sean following.
‘Chrissy said you were coming to the jazz club.’
‘I decided on a bath and an early night.’
‘So you weren’t avoiding me?’
‘No,’ she lied.
He didn’t look convinced. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘Not yet.’
He opened the fridge door and took a look inside. ‘I could make us an omelette?’
‘I’m having a takeaway.’
‘What did you order? Chinese or pizza?’
By the sceptical look on his face, it was time for the truth.
‘I haven’t ordered, yet.’
Sean extracted the eggs and some Edam cheese she’d bought days ago and started breaking the eggs into a bowl.
‘I brought chilled white wine. A nice Italian. Two bottles.’
‘I’ll get dressed,’ Rhona said.
‘Don’t bother. Relax. Pour the wine.’ He gestured to a bag. ‘There’s olives and bread.’
She poured them both a glass, put the olives in a bowl and cut up the bread. Already the barriers were breaking down. This is what they did well. Eating, drinking and talking, although the talking usually led to sex.
‘How’s McNab doing?’ Sean said as he whisked the eggs.
‘Okay,’ Rhona conceded.
‘He’s a one-off. Like you. A free spirit. That’s why he’s good at what he does.’
Rhona struggled to respond to that. ‘He was demoted,’ she reminded Sean.
‘Who the fuck cares? McNab will never fit the mould, but he understands how people tick. Good or bad.’
It was a fair assessment. ‘I thought you didn’t like him?’ she said.
‘You don’t know men, although you think you do.’ Sean flipped an omelette onto a plate and handed it to her. ‘I like him.’
They ate together in silence. It always amazed Rhona that Sean could conjure a meal from nothing and make it taste good. It was a skill she didn’t possess. She also killed plants despite strenuous attempts to keep them alive. Why was that? Did she possess a life force that destroyed? Both plants and food, and men?
Sean, on the other hand, was a creator. Of both music and food. She merely grazed on the fallout of life. The good and the bad. But mostly the bad. Analysing and reporting it. Not a pretty thought.
Christ, she even studied drowning while in the bath.
‘Music?’ he suggested when she’d cleared her plate.
‘How’s the new singer?’ she countered, suddenly remembering the woman in his office who had looked less than impressed by her arrival.
‘Good, although she’s only here for a month,’ Sean said as he stacked the dishes in the dishwasher.
‘Why’s that?’
‘Her boyfriend’s a musician. When he tours, she goes with him.’
Sean’s mention of touring made her think of Leila’s brother.
‘Have you heard of a band called the Spikes?’
Sean looked surprised at the question. ‘Yes, why?’
‘The police are trying to get in touch with a band member, Daniel Hardy. He’s the dead girl’s brother. They think he’s touring in Germany.’
Sean shook his head. ‘No. He’s in Glasgow. I saw him a couple of days ago.’
‘Are you sure?’ Rhona said, surprised.
‘Pretty sure.’
‘If he’s here, he must know about his sister. It’s been all over the news. Why didn’t he contact the police?’
Sean looked thoughtful. ‘Maybe he has and McNab hasn’t mentioned it yet.’
It was possible, but unlikely. ‘I think I should tell him.’ Rhona rose and went in search of her mobile. Contacting McNab was an ideal way of terminating the cosy wine-drinking session in the sitting room before it progressed to other things. McNab’s phone rang out a couple of times then went to voicemail. Rhona left a message relating Sean’s sighting of Daniel Hardy, then rang off.
As she made her way back to the sitting room, she met Sean in the hall.
‘I’m heading back to the club, if that’s okay?’
She covered her surprise. ‘Of course. Thanks for the meal.’
‘My pleasure.’
In that moment, Rhona wished he wasn’t going. This was always the way of it. If she felt Sean was manipulating her, she rejected him. If he appeared to reject her, she wanted him.
Sean dropped his set of keys on the hall table.
‘You don’t have to . . .’ she began.
‘Yes, I do.’ He smiled. ‘Call me.’
Rhona stood at the open door, listening to Sean’s footsteps descend the stairs. Well, she’d got what she wanted. So why didn’t it feel good?