by Celina Grace
Kate smiled dutifully. Silence fell once more.
“Well, I’ll get us some menus,” Anderton said eventually.
They ordered and ate and spoke about work and the upcoming European referendum and about the bestselling book that Kate had finally managed to read on the flight home from New York (she had a thought as she spoke about it that the book would always be tainted by the memory of how she’d felt whilst reading it. She decided there and then it would be going to the charity shop at the earliest opportunity). They talked about Olbeck and whether he and Jeff would be successful in their hopes for adoption. “Can’t think of anyone who’d make a better father,” Anderton said, and Kate agreed wholeheartedly. For a moment, she had a mad impulse to talk about her own experience with adoption, way back in her teens. It wasn’t as if Anderton didn’t know her history. He hadn’t judged her. Or if he had, he’d hidden it very well. Kate realised, with an unpleasant jolt, that she’d never once told Tin of that little piece of her history. Not once, not even when Tin had confessed to her about his own little girl, Celeste, his daughter with a previous partner. Kate had never even met her. She stared down at her gravy-smeared plate, wondering why that was and why she hadn’t thought fit to share with Tin that seminal event in her teens that had partly shaped her life. Was it because she had been afraid she would lose him over that particular revelation? Surely not? Or was it because, deep down, she hadn’t been able to trust him?
Kate was so deep in thought that it took a moment for her to realise that Anderton was speaking to her.
“Sorry – I didn’t hear you?”
“I said, I assume that you’re not now going to be leaving us for New York?”
Startled, Kate jerked her head up. “What?”
Anderton regarded her over the rim of his pint glass. “You’re not going to leave us and move to New York?”
“Oh.” Kate let her head drop forward again. “No, I’m not.” She hoped her tone was neutral, but wasn’t quite sure she’d been able to pull it off.
Anderton put down his pint glass. “Good,” was all he said.
Kate began pulling the damp beer mat apart. “I’m not sure I ever thought I would,” she said, almost to herself.
“I know.”
That made her look up again. “You did?”
Anderton smiled. “Kate, you’re an exceptional officer. You have some great friends here. Your family is here. What did New York actually have to offer you – apart from Tin?”
They stared at one another. Kate was the first to look away. “I’m sure you’re right,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“Hmm.”
Anderton put his empty glass on the table. “I’m not sorry you’re staying. My God, I would miss you. We would miss you,” he added, hastily.
Kate looked him in the eye. Something in her was tired of playing games. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel guilty or conflicted or worried about the situation here. Perhaps that was selfish of her. Perhaps it was just the wisdom that came with age. Perhaps if she’d listened to her heart when Tin had first told her he was leaving the country, she’d have broken it off with him there and then, avoiding months of uncertainty and misery.
For the first time in my life, I really know what I want, and I don’t care whether I should have it or not. I just want it.
“I would miss you,” she said, emphasising the last word.
They held each other’s gaze over the table. There was a moment of hush, audible even over the noisy hubbub of the crowded pub. Kate held her breath. Your move, Anderton.
“Fancy a nightcap at my place?” he asked eventually, in quite a casual tone.
“Yes,” said Kate, steadily, looking him in the eye. “Yes, I would.”
Chapter Twenty
Kate had a moment of confusion when she woke the next morning. Her first thought, after she’d worked out where she was, was Merlin. He’d be hungry by now. She waited for the guilt to come flooding in – not just about Merlin, about the fact she’d slept with her boss again – but after a moment, she realised she wasn’t feeling guilty. Not in the slightest. Instead she felt filled with exhilaration. She wasn’t even embarrassed about being naked under Anderton’s duvet.
She got up and found her way to the bathroom, where she located the towels in the airing cupboard and had a hot but brief shower. Wrapped in a navy blue bath sheet, she made her way back to the bedroom, where Anderton was still a buried shape beneath the bedclothes. He surfaced just as she quietly closed the bedroom door.
“God, you look indecently good in the mornings,” he said. “Come here.”
“I have to get going,” Kate said, not meaning a word of it. But it felt so good to be able to tease a little...
“You’re not going anywhere for at least – ooh, half an hour.”
“Only half an hour?” said Kate, in mock outrage, but she walked towards the bed as she said it, loosening the towel as she got closer.
Well over half an hour later, Kate pulled on the final piece of her clothing and zipped up her boots. Anderton came back into the bedroom, now himself wrapped in a towel around his waist. Kate, who hadn’t had so much sex in months, wondered briefly if she could pull him onto the bed for one last go before they left. Reluctantly, she dismissed the idea.
“Listen, I have to go straight to a meeting,” said Anderton. “But I can drop you back at your place before that. Okay?”
“Fine. Thanks.” Kate turned to her reflection in the mirror and attempted to smooth her bed-ravaged hair. Anderton came up behind her, nuzzled said hair to one side and kissed the back of her neck.
“Mm. Wish we didn’t have to go.”
“Well, we do,” said Kate, her tone belying her body’s reaction to his words.
“Yes, I suppose so.” Anderton let her go. “It’s probably best we don’t drive into the office together anyway.”
Kate immediately felt a drop in her stomach. “Why do you say that?”
Anderton caught her gaze in the mirror. “Oh, you know what they’re like, Kate. Total gossip-mongers. Let’s not give them the satisfaction.”
Kate stood up, feeling her heart start to thump. “Are you saying this was a mistake?”
“No.” Anderton’s emphatic tone brought her a little comfort. “Not at all. My God, if it were up to me, I’d keep you here all day. No, all week. No, I just want – well – let’s just see how things go, shall we? Without anyone else sticking their oar in.”
Kate swung around to look at him properly. Half of her wanted to leap on the defensive, berate him for not giving her a straight answer or a declaration of undying love. The new, adult part of her turned over what he’d just said and decided he was right. “Okay.”
Anderton looked relieved. He came closer, tipped her chin up with one hand and kissed her. “You really don’t know how glad I am that you came back here last night,” was all he said, but there was something heartfelt in his voice that at once both soothed and excited her.
“I’m glad too,” was what she said. “But can you drop me back at the station car park anyway, because I need my car?” She thought for a moment and then said, with a grin “I’ll wear some dark glasses if you think it’ll help.”
Anderton gave her a look which said quite a few things. “Come on,” he said and slapped her bottom gently as she passed him in the doorway.
They talked about inconsequential things on the car journey. Kate was conscious of the fact of the police station drawing nearer and nearer and whether she would have the nerve to ask if they were going to see each other again. Obviously, they were going to see each other in work, but that wasn’t the point... At length, Anderton drew in to the curb two streets away from the station and left the engine running. Kate was impressed to see he didn’t even glance around to see if anyone was looking.
His goodbye kiss was long enough and passionate enough to soothe Kate’s paranoia that this had just been another one-off. So
did his parting words.
“I’m very much looking forward to when we can continue this,” he said, after finally coming up for air.
Kate was so drenched in lust she found it difficult to speak. “Me too,” she gasped, eventually.
Anderton gave her one final kiss. “See you later, then. I’ll call you.”
“Bye.”
Kate knew she must have driven home because somehow she found herself outside her house, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember doing it, occupied as her mind had been with memories of what had just happened. She almost floated into the hallway and immediately tripped over Merlin, who was yowling as if he were being tortured. If the noise hadn’t been much of a passion-killer, the scent of his unemptied litter box in the kitchen definitely was.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Kate hastened to feed and water the frantic animal. “I’m really sorry for abandoning you.”
She watched him eat his food without really seeing him, occupied as she was in replaying the night’s events in her head. She and Anderton hadn’t had a nightcap, of course. They’d barely got through the front door of his cottage before they’d started kissing. They hadn’t even made it to the bed but had made love on the sofa in the living room, barely undressing. Kate shivered with remembered delight and then shrieked as Merlin leapt heavily onto her lap, obviously having forgiven her now his appetite was satiated.
Shouldn’t you be thinking about Tin? The little guilt gremlin in Kate’s mind was having a damn good try at being noticed again. Kate mentally pictured herself grabbing hold of it and hurling it out the window. I am not going to feel guilty. I’m single, Anderton’s single (Is he? asked the gremlin, and Kate hastily swatted that thought) and nobody’s getting hurt. She brushed aside the trifling fact that he was her boss and that she was still emotionally very vulnerable after a painful break-up. I don’t care.
She tried to shake herself back into work mode. What was she supposed to be doing today? For a moment, her mind was a complete blank. Case? What case? Get a hold of yourself, woman.
Kate grabbed her phone and scrolled through her work emails, taking a quick look to see if she’d put anything in her calendar. Not interviewing Dorothy Smelton, she’d done that yesterday. Oh, yes, Ewan Askell, of course. She had an appointment with him at eleven thirty that morning. Kate took a look at the clock and gulped. She had approximately twenty minutes to drive to the Porthos offices which, for a journey of fifteen or so miles, really was pushing it a bit.
It was a beautiful spring day, warm, sunny and with the fresh new leaves on the trees beginning to deepen in colour. The hedgerows were foamy with the delicate white flowers of cow parsley, and the wheat fields were already filled with row upon row of sage green stalks. Kate hummed to herself as she drove along the country roads. Despite the ticking clock, she simply couldn’t get worked up about being late. So what if she was? Did it really matter?
Her good mood saw her into the reception area of the Porthos building, where Ewan Askell was waiting for her. Breezy as she felt, Kate couldn’t help but apologise for being ten minutes late, but her apology was brushed aside by Askell, who continued to smile anxiously as he showed her up to his office.
“Thank you for seeing me, Mr Askell.” Kate seated herself opposite his desk, just as she had before. “I know you must be busy, particularly now you’re holding the reins of the company.”
“Well, yes—” Askell broke off, looking somewhat embarrassed. Kate found herself curious. What would happen to the company now that its founder and CEO had died? She asked the question as tactfully as she could.
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll muddle on through.” Askell had seated himself by this time and was fiddling with a pen, clicking the nib in and out. “We’re having a meeting of the board of directors next week, and we’ll no doubt plan out what’s going to happen, both in the short term and the long term.”
“Mrs Farraday will be attending that meeting, no doubt?” Kate asked, less because she was interested in the answer, more because she wanted to introduce the subject of Mia Farraday into the conversation.
“Yes, she should be there.”
“It must be very hard for Mrs Farraday right now,” Kate said, watching Askell’s face closely. “She mentioned that you’d been to see her a week ago or so.”
“Well I thought I had better pay my condolences,” Askell said stiffly. “I wanted to see if she was all right, you know, given the circumstances.”
“Yes, I can see that. I’m sure she appreciates the support of her friends.” Kate paused, allowing the other man to interrupt her if he wanted to, with denials or agreement, but he said nothing. Kate wondered whether it was too early to ask what she wanted to ask but decided to go ahead. “I understand you and Mrs Farraday share something of an interest?”
Ewan Askell stared. “What do you mean?”
“You’re both interested in history? Local history, perhaps?”
Askell continued to stare. “We are? I mean, I am, of course. I’m chair of my local history society. But as for it being one of Mia’s hobbies, I’m not sure.”
“You know Mrs Farraday studied History at university?”
“Did she?” Askell sounded only politely interested. “I didn’t know that.”
“She did. She also said that we could speak to you when we had questions about the Farradays’ town house.” Kate was still speaking when she felt again that jab of unease she’d felt just after interviewing Dorothy Smelton. Something had jarred, then, and it was jarring now. But what?
Askell was beginning to look a little alarmed. “Sorry, I don’t understand. What is it that you wanted to know about the townhouse?”
Kate made an effort to dismiss whatever it was that was making her uneasy. “Oh, nothing much. You know, of course, about the secret entrance?” She half laughed. “That makes it sound very mysterious, doesn’t it? I meant, about the tunnel from the cellar that leads out from the house.”
Askell’s face cleared. “Oh, that. Yes, yes I did know about that. Fascinating, isn’t it? I remember Simon asking me about it once, what it really was, you know. I thought it might have been something to do with the Reformation – the age of the house makes it likely – but it’s really impossible to say for certain.”
Kate, whilst listening politely, was aware of the total openness of his manner, the way he talked about the tunnel with no trace of self-consciousness or awareness of what his knowledge might mean in the context of the crime. Either he was an absolutely magnificent actor or he really was innocent of using the tunnel as a means of escape without detection from a murder.
Kate let him talk on a little more about the tunnel and then made an effort to steer the conversation back to the Farradays. “So, you’ve known the Farradays for some years, I understand. Do you think they were happily married?”
Askell, who’d relaxed considerably while talking about the tunnel in the townhouse, now stiffened again. “I’m sorry?”
“Do you think the Farradays were happily married?” As she repeated herself, Kate wondered whether she’d actually asked him that question before, in their previous interview.
His next words confirmed that she had. “You’ve asked me that, before, Detective Sergeant. My answer remains the same. They seemed happy enough to me.”
Kate met his eye. “Really?” she asked, and she let her natural cynicism infuse the word.
Askell looked away. “Look, it’s not my business to gossip. I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want the truth, Mr Askell. I’m sure you realise that the character of the victim can sometimes shed some illumination on the motive behind their murder. Don’t you think that might be the case with Simon Farraday?”
She kept holding his gaze, wondering whether what she had just said was sinking in. After a moment, Askell sighed and sagged a little in his chair. “Look, Simon – Simon wasn’t the easiest person to like,” he said. He reached up and took off his silver spectacles, rubbing
at the pink dent they had left either side of his nose. “He was brilliant, he was extremely driven, but he wasn’t the easiest person to get on with.”
“I gathered that,” Kate said, drily but without too much emphasis. She wanted Askell to go on talking.
He did so, seeming to gain a little confidence as he went on. “Simon was also – oh, how shall I put it? He – he was a man of very large appetites.”
“You mean women?”
Askell was too old to blush properly, but he looked uncomfortable. “Well, yes. That sort of thing.”
“We know he had a lot of affairs, Mr Askell, if that’s what you’re talking about.” For a moment, Kate wondered whether he was referring to some other sort of vice – drugs, perhaps. His next words reassured her.
“He had many affairs, that’s true. He wasn’t even particularly discreet about it, not once he knew I knew.” Askell’s face tightened. “I think he actually enjoyed me knowing. I don’t think he minded anyone knowing, as long as they wouldn’t take him up on it and make a fuss.”
“Like his wife?”
Askell smiled unhappily. “Well, Mia’s not stupid. I suppose she turned a blind eye for the sake of her family. It’s not as if she had to run up against his lovers very often.”
“Very often?”
Askell blinked at her emphatic tone. “Well, no. He mostly kept his – his affairs – to people he met through work, and Mia had very little to do with that side of his life, from what I could gather.”
Through work or online. Kate found herself thinking about Sarah Collins, the Farradays’ nanny, and the hesitation in her voice as she’d mentioned her male boss. She’d bet good money that Simon Farraday had slept with her too, walking male appendage that he’d been. Disgusting old goat. She found herself hoping quite fervently for a second that Mia Farraday would divorce him and take him to the proverbial cleaners, before coming back to reality and reminding herself that the randy old sod was already dead.
As if he’d read her mind, Askell mentioned something about it being easier for Mia now. “Of course, it’s terrible for the children, and for her too, but I hope at least Simon’s left all his affairs in order financially. He always kept a tight hold of the purse-strings.”
