by K. J. Frost
“Well, I think you’re wrong. I think we should give him a chance.”
“Who cares what you think?” The first man retorts, raising his voice just a little. “Why send him back here, after all the damage he did? That’s what I want to know. It was bound to cause ill-feeling and troub––”
“Hold your tongue!” Sergeant Tooley’s voice rings out, silencing everyone in the room, not just the two men having their earnest debate outside my door. Wisely, neither man says a word and I hear footsteps approaching. “You know nothing about the inspector,” Tooley says, his voice much closer to my office, and lower in tone now. “You also know nothing about the case, being as you didn’t work on it, so watch yourself, Harper.”
“Yes, sir.” The reply is deferential.
“Now, get on with your work.”
“Yes, sir.”
I sit back down at my desk. At the moment, I don’t really feel like going out into the office. I don’t feel like facing the men after that little episode. Regardless of what the Chief Constable might think, I’m not convinced that having me back here is going to do anything to raise the men’s morale. I think, if anything, I could make things an awful lot worse.
It’s nearly noon by the time Thompson comes back into my office and tells me he’s got six men lined up, and a list of the factories on the estate, together with the dates on which they’ll next be paying their staff, or at least the dates on which they collect the money from the bank, which is more important from our perspective.
It’s been a while since the unsettling incident outside my door, so I accompany Thompson back out into the main office, where six uniformed officers are waiting for us. Their instructions are simple and, once they’ve been allocated their relevant watching positions, I send them home to change into less obtrusive outfits.
“You can start right away,” Thompson tells them once I’ve finished talking. “And remember to stick together, work in pairs, and report anything out of the ordinary.”
“Are you familiar with a man named Harper?” I ask Thompson. We’re sitting together at the bar of the Dog and Duck, just around the corner from the police station at the end of what feels like quite an unproductive first day.
“Joe Harper?” he clarifies.
“I don’t know his first name. He was in the office this morning. Has an attitude problem.”
“That’s Joe.” He nods his head slowly. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, it’s nothing much. He just had a bit of a go earlier, about the Ellis case.”
“To your face?” He’s surprised.
“No. I could hear him talking to someone else through my open door. Sergeant Tooley put him in his place, which was a relief. It saved me the embarrassment of having to reprimand a man I completely agreed with.”
Harry lets out a long sigh. “I presume he was saying it was all your fault, was he?” I don’t reply, but then I don’t need to. He leans closer and lowers his voice. “It wasn’t,” he says firmly. “No-one who knows anything about the case and has an ounce of common sense thinks it was.”
“Are you suggesting I don’t have any common sense?”
He tilts his head slightly to one side, like that thought needs careful consideration, then says, “Look, Rufus, I know you feel responsible. Let’s face it, after that speech you made this morning, everyone who was in the room knows that. But that doesn’t make it true. I’d known Ellis in passing for years and worked fairly closely with him for six months, and I didn’t spot a single sign that he was the guilty party. The same goes for Bob Styles and Stan Tooley, and a couple of the other men as well… For heaven’s sake, even Harper knew him better than you did. Why should you have spotted something none of us could? He was a complete stranger to you.” He sighs. “And anyway, you don’t want to take anything Joe Harper says too seriously.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s got a chip on his shoulder, that’s why. He applied for a transfer into CID earlier in the year and was turned down.”
“Was there a reason for that?” I’m intrigued now.
“You mean, other than his inability to keep his mouth shut?” Harry jokes, looking at me.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Bob Styles thought he was too hotheaded. He’s a bit prone to acting first and asking questions later. Both Stan Tooley and Inspector Styles have had to warn him several times about his attitude, but Joe seems to see the uniform as a means to be a law unto himself. To be honest,” he says, taking a sip of his beer, “we were all surprised when he put in for the transfer in the first place.”
“And not at all surprised when he was turned down?” I suggest.
“No, but he seemed to be,” he replies. “I gather he’d been bragging about it as a dead certainty.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. So not only didn’t he get to become a detective, but he had egg on his face too. And just to make it worse, both Gilmore and Deakin were accepted just afterwards, even though they haven’t been on the force as long.” He finishes his pint and puts the glass down on the bar. “Give it a bit of time, Rufus,” he says. “I’m sure things will settle down.”
I nod my head. “At least Ellis’ pre-trial hearing is tomorrow. I think that will do us all good. I mean, I know it’s just the first stage, but once it’s over and done with, hopefully we can all start to put this sorry affair behind us.”
He gets to his feet and I follow, putting on my coat as we make our way to the door.
“How’s Miss Cooper?” he asks.
“Amelie’s fine,” I reply, perhaps a little evasively. I’ve never been very good at discussing my private life, even when Harry and I were friends before. But then that’s probably the reason he had no idea that the woman he was taking to bed that summer evening six years ago, was my fiancée. It dawns on me that I should, perhaps, try to be more open. “It’s nice to be living down here again.”
“You’ll certainly be able to see more of her,” he replies, grinning.
“That was the plan.”
He stops and looks at me. “What do you mean? I know you and the Chief Constable are old friends, but surely he didn’t get you back here so quickly just to suit your love life.”
I chuckle. “No, of course he didn’t. He asked me to come back for the reasons stated – namely because Styles was retiring and there was a vacancy that needed filling. But…” I pause.
“But what?”
I cough, unaccustomed to sharing my personal feelings. “If he hadn’t asked me to come back, I was going to request a transfer anyway.”
A broad smile forms on his lips. “Because of Miss Cooper?”
“Naturally.”
He slaps me on the arm. “Good for you, Rufus. It’s about bloody time.”
I feel like I’ve done enough sharing for one evening. “How’s your wife?” I ask, changing the subject.
“She’d be a lot better if she wasn’t being sick every morning,” he says, still smiling.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to look quite so cheerful when you say that,” I remind him.
“I wouldn’t, if she were here, but she’s not. Besides, I like the idea of having another baby.”
“Yes… because you’ve done your part already. She has to do all the hard work.”
He laughs. “Well, there is that, yes.”
We say our goodbyes and he starts his short walk home, while I return to the station and get into my car, driving back to Molesey.
“I’m going to see Amelie,” I announce as soon as I’ve finished dinner. Aunt Dotty looks at me across the table, opens her mouth, and then closes it again. “What were you about to say?” I ask her.
She folds her serviette, putting it down on the table beside her plate. “Nothing,” she says wistfully.
“Even if I weren’t a detective, I’d find that very hard to believe.” She narrows her eyes at me, making me wonder if I’m supposed to feel afraid of that glare.
“I’m just not sur
e that you should,” she replies.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re so obviously in love with her, and it’s not really the done thing.”
“Aunt Dotty.” I get to my feet and go around to her. “You’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying to push Amelie and myself together. Now you’re saying it’s not accepted behaviour for us to be alone. You can’t have it both ways.”
“I don’t want people to talk,” she murmurs.
“You’ve never cared about people talking before.”
“Not about me, no. But this is a small village,” she says, looking up at me. “Everyone knows that Millicent Templeton never shows her face from one day to the next, so they would know that the two of you would be alone in the house, to all intents and purposes. It would only take one nosey parker to set the gossips off… And it’s Amelie’s reputation I’m thinking of, after all.”
“And you think I’m not?” I can’t help but feel a little affronted.
She takes my hand in hers and twists in her seat, so she’s facing me. “I know you are, dear boy,” she says softly. “But not everyone understands you as well as I do.”
I let out a sigh. “Okay. How about if I go and fetch her and bring her back here? You’d be with us then, wouldn’t you? Do you think that would keep the gossips and busybodies happy?”
She smiles up at me. “I imagine so, yes.”
“Fine.” I lean down and kiss her forehead, just to show her I’m not cross with her. I’m not. I’m annoyed that convention won’t allow me to be alone with the woman I love, but that’s hardly Aunt Dotty’s fault.
“I’m right though, aren’t I?” she says as I get to the door.
“About what?” I turn and look back at her. Her eyes are sparkling in that mischievous way again.
“Amelie. You are in love with her, aren’t you?”
“No comment.” I may have opened up a little to Harry Thompson, but if I admit my true feelings to Aunt Dotty, she’ll tell my mother, and all hell will break loose.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she says, chuckling.
I merely shake my head and beat a hasty retreat.
Amelie agrees quite readily to the plan, laughing about the perceived need to be chaperoned – again – and, having run upstairs to inform her Aunt Millicent that she’s going out, she puts on her coat and hat, and accompanies me back to Aunt Dotty’s, where we find that she has moved into the living room and is sitting, with a magazine on her lap.
“Good evening, my dear,” she says as soon as we walk in the door. “Ethel’s just brought the coffee in.” She indicates the tray in front of her.
“That sounds lovely,” Amelie replies, taking a seat opposite Aunt Dotty on the matching sofa. I sit beside her, defying my aunt to disapprove. She doesn’t. Instead she smiles benignly as I take Amelie’s hand in mine.
While Dotty pours the coffee, we discuss her progress with her back garden, which she’s in the process of attempting to convert to a vegetable allotment as part of the ‘Dig for Victory’ campaign which the government are promoting. She hasn’t got very far to date, but now I’m living here, I’ll find it much easier to get involved and we work out a plan to make a start at the weekend. Amelie’s keen to help if she can, and I’m not going to discourage her – anything that means I get to spend time with her is a bonus, as far as I’m concerned.
“Have you seen Amelie’s sketches?” Dotty asks, looking at me over the rim of her coffee cup. Amelie started drawing and sketching for the first time when she stayed with my mother and Aunt Issa. I know she’s not very confident about the end results, which are all of plants and wildlife, but I think they’re very good.
“Yes, I have. I like them.”
“So do I,” Dotty agrees. “I think she should get some of them framed.”
“And I could hang them in my room upstairs?” I suggest, turning to Amelie. “I could even put a couple in my office.”
“You’d want to?” She seems surprised.
“Yes. I would.”
“That’s settled then.” Dotty leans forward, full of enthusiasm. “I’ll help you, if you like?” She’s looking at Amelie.
“I suppose…” She still sounds uncertain.
“Oh, go on,” I urge her. “I’d like to have them. They’ll remind me of you.”
I realise that Aunt Dotty will have heard that, but I don’t care, not when Amelie’s smiling at me the way she is. She nods her head and turns to my aunt.
“Very well,” she says, with a little more confidence.
“We can talk about it tomorrow,” Dotty replies, then quickly finishes her coffee and makes a show of looking at the clock on the mantelpiece. “I’m feeling rather tired,” she says, stretching her arms above her head and yawning, somewhat ineffectually. “I think I’ll go up to bed.”
I get to my feet as she stands, although she urges me to stay where I am. “Take care of your guest,” she says and, kissing me on the cheek, and wishing goodnight to Amelie, she goes out through the door, closing it behind her.
I look down at Amelie, and we both burst out laughing.
“Why?” she murmurs, catching her breath. “Why did I have to come over here, if your aunt was only going to stay with us for ten minutes and then take herself off to bed anyway?”
I sit back down beside her, much closer than I was before. “Because as far as the neighbours are concerned, your reputation is safe,” I explain.
“But no-one will have seen me come in here. Not with the blackout,” she reasons.
“I know, and I agree with you, but Dotty’s just thinking about us and what’s best.”
Amelie falls silent for a moment. “She really is on our side then?”
“It looks like it.”
“Are you sure about that? I mean, she did insist on spending the whole of yesterday with us, not leaving us alone, even for a few minutes, didn’t she?”
“I think she was observing yesterday.” I’m choosing my words carefully. I don’t want to blurt out that I think Aunt Dotty spent yesterday ascertaining for certain that I really am in love with Amelie and that, now she knows for sure, she’s decided she’s going to be on our side – as Amelie so aptly put it.
“Observing?” Amelie asks.
“Yes. Us.”
“And as a result of what she observed, she’s decided to let us spend the evening alone?” she says, wide eyed.
“So it seems.”
“Does that mean she thinks we’re not interested in each other?” Her lips are twisting into a smile.
“No. I think it means the precise opposite.”
I move closer and Amelie does the same, so we’re touching, and she tilts her head up towards mine. The words ‘I love you’ are on the tip of my tongue, but before I can say them, she closes the gap between us and the moment is lost.
“I—I think we’d better find something to talk about,” I whisper, breathlessly as I reluctantly pull away from her, ending the most divine kiss.
“We had?” She looks into my eyes.
“Yes. Before I get carried away.” She lowers her head, but gazes up at me through her eyelashes. “I have to say, that’s a very alluring look, and not at all conducive to gentlemanly behaviour,” I remark.
“I do trust you, Rufus,” she whispers.
I smile and raise her face to mine. “I know. I’m just not sure that you should. Not right now.”
Her eyes sparkle and widen slightly, and her mouth opens, revealing the tip of her tongue. Dear God…
“Would it be easier if we talked about your first day at work?” she asks.
“Easier… probably. A lot less fun though,” I reply and she chuckles.
“So, how was it?” She settles back into the corner of the sofa and I start telling her about my day, about the gifts Styles left for me, and my arrangement with Thompson over what he’s going to call me. After a few minutes, I twist in the seat, then turn, leaning against her and, before long, I find I’m lying
down, my head in her lap as she gently strokes my hair, while I tell her about Harper and the things he said.
“You’re not to blame, Rufus,” she says softly. “I’ll keep telling you that every day of my life, if I have to, until you believe me.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever believe it,” I reply truthfully.
“Then I’ll just have to stay right here with you until you do,” she says, then blushes as she realises what she’s just said.
“I’m not going to say ‘no’ to that.” I smile up at her.
She pauses for a moment, then leans down and kisses the tip of my nose. “Neither am I,” she whispers. I reach up and place my hands either side of her face, pulling her down and kissing her very gently, determined not to let the moment run away with me.
“You’re the best kind of therapy there is,” I tell her between kisses. “I feel better already.”
“Good,” she says, smiling. “Then we’ll just have to keep doing this.”
“Hmm, I think we just might,” I reply and kiss her again.
Chapter Three
I must have fallen asleep in the churchyard, because the next thing I knew, it was daybreak and I was freezing. I dragged myself home and spent Sunday in bed, only getting up to make cups of tea and butter some stale toast.
Yesterday at work, I felt like I was in a daze and Mr Cole twice told me off for not paying attention. I wanted to tell him where to go, but I need this job, so I just said, “Yes, sir,” and got on with it, cursing him under my breath.
This morning, I don’t feel much better and I’m wondering if I’ve caught a cold, as the result of my night in the churchyard. The way my luck’s going at the moment, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Still, I manage to drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom. The one advantage to living alone is that I can wander around naked, and I do. There’s no-one to judge, or to ‘tut’ at me, and what does it matter? I can do as I please.
