by K. J. Frost
Once we’d finished eating, I made my excuses and went upstairs to wash and change, and then told Aunt Dotty I was going out for a drink. I didn’t explain who I was going with – or even that I was going with anyone at all, and she didn’t ask. I don’t really want to tell her about Amelie yet, just in case it all comes to nothing. There’ll be time enough to explain later, assuming I don’t make a mess of things, that is.
Luckily, there’s a good moon tonight, so I’m able to see that Amelie is waiting for me on the doorstep.
“Why are you out here?” I ask her as she comes down the steps to meet me.
“Because I wasn’t sure how Uncle Gordon would react to me going out with you,” she replies, looking up at me. I can’t help feeling a bit put out by that. “He’s finding things hard enough as it is,” she adds, and I realise I’m being childish. She is, after all, just being mindful of his feelings at what’s been a very difficult time for both of them.
“That’s very considerate of you.” I take her hand and link it through my bent arm, then lead her down the driveway and out onto the footpath. “Mind your step,” I warn.
“It’s very hard to see, isn’t it?” she replies.
“I’m starting to get used to it, and at least there’s a moon tonight.”
She stops, forcing me to do the same, and looks up at the sky. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” she murmurs.
“Yes.” I’m not looking at the sky, though. I’m looking at her, and as she lowers her face, she smiles at me.
“What’s wrong?” She tilts her head to one side.
“Absolutely nothing.” I cough through my embarrassment. “Shall we go to The Swan?” I suggest, to distract her from the fact that I was so obviously gazing at her just then.
“That would be nice,” she says and we start walking again. We turn to the right, go past Aunt Dotty’s house on the other side of the road, and at the end, turn left, knowing that The Swan is just around the corner on the left.
“How’s work?” I ask her, as we’re walking.
“It’s probably better than being at home,” she replies, “although I miss my lunches with Beth… and the ride to and from the office, of course.” I hear the hitch in her throat and regret that my question has raked up her memories.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reminded you.”
She looks up at me. “No,” she whispers. “I need to talk about her. I find it much harder when I don’t. All I do then is think, and feel guilty.”
“What do you have to feel guilty about?”
“Leaving her in the pub that night. If I’d stayed…” Her voice cracks and I pull her to a stop, taking her hands in mine and holding them between us.
“Don’t,” I say softly. “You mustn’t feel like that. It’s not your responsibility.”
“But…”
“No ‘buts’, Amelie. You were ill. But even if you hadn’t been, you’re not to blame for what happened to Beth. The fault lies with her murderer and no-one else.”
She stares into my eyes for a moment. “Do you really believe that?”
“Yes.” Her close attention, her scrutiny of my face, might be unnerving, if it wasn’t for the fact that I know that all she’ll be able to see in my eyes is the absolute truth behind my words. She is not to blame for this. “Forgive yourself,” I whisper, moving my head a little nearer to hers.
She pauses, her eyes glistening in the moonlight. “I’ll try,” she says eventually, giving me a perfect smile, before we turn to face forward again.
When we get to the pub, I open the porch door to allow Amelie to pass through, but she holds back. “You go ahead of me,” she says. “I hate going into pubs first.”
I smile down at her, then step across the threshold, moving to one side, to let Amelie follow, before opening the inner door. I’m immediately assailed by the smell of cigarette smoke. I can’t say I’ve ever noticed it in a pub before, but it seems overwhelming, and a little nauseating. Amelie follows me, glancing around, clearly nervous, and I instinctively take her hand. “Come with me,” I whisper, placing my mouth close to her ear, so she’ll hear me above the noise of people talking and laughing, and I lead her towards the rear of the pub where it’s quieter and the smoke is less dense. There are two free tables and I take the one in the corner. “Let’s sit here,” I say and pull back the chair for her to sit down. “Will you be alright while I get us some drinks?”
She nods. “Sorry. I’m being pathetic.”
“No, you’re not.” I smile at her again, and she manages a smile back. “What would you like?”
“A gin and tonic, please?”
I think about how much Aunt Dotty would love Amelie… a woman after her own heart. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her, and make my way across to the bar.
There are only a couple of people ahead of me and, while I’m waiting, I glance around. It’s very busy in here tonight, not that I’ve been in here for years, but most of the tables are occupied and there are several people seated at the bar. I’ve just stepped forward to give my order to the woman who’s serving, when I notice Sergeant Ellis, seated at the far end. I don’t think he’s spotted me though, and I turn my back slightly in the hope that he won’t. The last thing I need is for him to see that I’m here with Amelie and spread the word around the station. I wonder if I can make an excuse to Amelie and take her somewhere else, but I can’t. It would look ridiculous, and would probably make her think I’m ashamed to be seen with her, which I’m not. And what logical reason could I give her for leaving so abruptly?
“Can I help you, love?” The barmaid’s voice sounds a little impatient and I realise she’s still waiting for me. She’s what I’d describe as a rather ‘brassy’ type, pretending to be younger than she is, but really fooling no-one, other than herself.
“Oh. Sorry… a gin and tonic and a pint of bitter, please.”
“Righty-ho.” She gives me a yellow-toothed smile and sets about pouring the beer, and measuring out the gin.
Once I’ve handed over the money, and while she’s fetching the change, I risk a glance back at Ellis, but he’s disappeared. Hopefully he’s gone home, although I suppose he might be answering the call of nature. Either way, he’s not there to watch me walk away from the bar, which is a good thing. I pocket my change and pick up the glasses, and am just turning around when the door opens and Mr Johnson walks in. I know he said he sometimes drinks in The Swan, but why tonight, of all nights? He’s by himself and looks around the pub for a moment before his eyes settle on me and he gives me a very brief nod of his head. For a moment, I wonder if he’s going to leave, but then he hesitates and walks towards the bar. I’m in no mood to talk to him, so I nod back and make my way over to Amelie.
“Sorry I was so long,” I say as I sit down opposite her, facing the pub.
“Don’t worry.”
She’s taken off her coat, putting it over the back of her chair, and she’s wearing a very pretty red long-sleeved dress, which even when she’s sitting down, shows off her figure to perfection.
I raise my glass to her and she clinks hers against mine.
“Cheers,” I say.
“Thank you for inviting me,” she replies.
I take a sip of beer. “It’s my pleasure.”
She smiles and puts her glass to her lips. I watch as she takes a drink, swallowing it down, and wish there wasn’t a table between us, and I could be closer to her…
“So, I know you like your job, but what made you decide to become a policeman?” There’s a beautiful, enquiring expression on her face as she puts her glass down and looks up at me.
“I was following in my father’s footsteps,” I reply honestly.
“Your father’s a policeman too?”
“He was. He worked at Kingston for his whole career. He was a sergeant, in uniform, and my hero.” I’ve never said that out loud before and am grateful the lighting is dimmed in here, so she can’t see my blush. At least, I hope she can’t.
<
br /> “Was a sergeant?” she queries. “What does he do now?”
“He… He died about five years ago.”
“Oh God… I’m so sorry.” She reaches across the table, touching my arm, and I decide to make the most of her gesture and lay my hand over hers, holding it there.
“It’s okay,” I reply, soothingly. I don’t want her to feel bad about this.
“I didn’t realise.” It’s as though I haven’t spoken. “I feel so stupid. I thought you meant he’d retired, or was doing something else now… not that he’d…” She allows her voice to fade, unable to complete her sentence.
“Amelie,” I say, waiting for her to raise her face to mine. “It really is okay. It was a long time ago.”
“Five years isn’t that long.”
“Well, maybe it isn’t. But I’m used to him not being here.” For the best part, I am. I’m not just saying that to make her feel better.
“And your mother?” she asks, with a certain amount of trepidation.
“She’s still with us,” I reply, with a smile. “She lives in Somerset, with her sister.” Amelie lets out a sigh, of relief, I think. “Please don’t be sad.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And don’t be sorry. My loss is nothing compared to yours.” She tilts her head to one side. “You lost both your parents… and now Beth.”
She swallows hard. “Well, as I said before, I don’t really remember my parents… but Beth.”
“It’s hard, isn’t it?”
She nods. “It’s the little things,” she whispers, and I lean closer so I can hear her, suddenly aware that I’m still holding her hand against my arm and that she doesn’t seem to mind. “It’s reading something funny in a magazine and not having anyone to share it with, or something silly happening at work, and not being able to laugh about it with her on the way home.”
“You will laugh again.” I’m surprised by how much feeling there is in my voice and she looks up at me, but doesn’t say anything in response. Judging from the tears brimming in her eyes, I’m not sure she can. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” I say quietly.
“You didn’t.” She shifts in her seat and moves a little closer too. “You really didn’t.”
“Tell me about your job.” I think we both need to change the subject, and it’s the best I can do on the spur of the moment.
She looks down at the table. “I enjoy it,” she murmurs.
“But?” I sense there’s a ‘but’.
“But it’s a little dull, I suppose. I think Beth’s promotion made me realise there’s more to life than typing and filing… or there ought to be.”
I’m suddenly filled with fear that she’s maybe thinking of joining up, which would eventually mean she’d move away and spend less time in the village. I mentally shake my head. I don’t even live here myself. What does it matter to me where Amelie is? And as that thought crosses my mind, I realise it matters more than anything. I also realise that, if she’s even remotely interested in me, I’ll move heaven and earth to stay here after this case has finished – which could take some doing, being as there’s currently no vacancy for a Detective Inspector at Kingston. Despite that, I’ll do whatever it takes, even if it means taking a temporary demotion… and working with Harry Thompson.
“What are you thinking of doing?” I try to keep the anxiety out of my voice, but I’m not sure I succeed and she raises her eyes to mine.
“Well…” she says, leaning forward, “I’ve heard a rumour that one of the private secretaries is getting married in a couple of months, which means she’ll be leaving. So, I was thinking about applying for her job.” She lifts the tone of her voice, almost like she’s asking my opinion.
“Sounds like a marvellous idea,” I say immediately.
“I couldn’t enlist in the forces,” she adds. “I couldn’t leave the area. I owe it to Uncle Gordon to stay here and help with Aunt Millicent. And I do feel that the work we do at the factory is important to the war.”
“It is,” I put in as she takes a breath and I struggle not to actually jump for joy that she won’t be leaving.
“Obviously, I could apply for the job Beth was supposed to take,” she continues a little more quietly. “But I don’t think I can, not after what’s happened. It wouldn’t feel right.”
“That’s understandable.”
“So, I’ll just have to wait a couple of months, and keep my fingers crossed – and hope the rumours are true.”
“Even if they’re not, I’m sure something else will come up soon enough.”
“Yes, there’s always someone getting married these days. Far more so than before the war.”
“I think war does that,” I reply. “It makes people do impetuous things.”
Her smile drops. “You think marriage is impetuous? But you said you were engaged. Surely you…” Her voice trails off.
“I didn’t say marriage was always impetuous, but in wars, people tend to rush into it – for obvious reasons. That’s all I meant, Amelie.” I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. Well, I hope it’s reassuring.
“Was your––”
“Stop that, gentlemen… please!” The barmaid’s shrill voice interrupts whatever Amelie was going to say next and she jumps back, pulling her hand away from mine and looking over towards the bar.
“What’s going on?” She glances back at me, a look of nervous fear crossing her face.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” I reply.
“I’m warning you…” I hear a male voice and then a loud thud and the sound of glass breaking.
“Oh, hell,” I whisper under my breath. “Stay right here,” I say to Amelie, getting to my feet. “Whatever happens… don’t move.” She nods, then grabs my arm.
“Please be careful,” she urges.
“Of course.” I smile down at her, and then she releases me and I head back to the bar, where two men are brawling in a rather drunken and disorganised fashion. There are arms flailing, but none are making contact with their target.
“Now, gentlemen,” I say fairly loudly and wade in between the two of them. I pull the man on the right to one side and only then notice that the man I’m holding off with my left arm is none other than Sergeant Ellis. I glare at him and he shrinks back towards the wall behind him, cowed and quietened, leaving me free to deal with the other fellow, who is still baying loudly about something or other. “That’s enough!” I shout at the top of my voice. “Let’s take this outside, shall we?”
“What’s it got to do with you?” he asks, only slurring every other word.
“Quite a lot, actually, but we’ll deal with it outside.”
I take hold of his collar and lead him unceremoniously from the pub. It’s chilly out here, and in taking a large gulp of air, the man seems to sober up a little – enough for me to allow him to stand unaided, anyway.
“I’ve got no idea what that was about,” I tell him, reaching into my jacket pocket and pulling out my warrant card, “but I think it’s probably best if you head off home now, don’t you?”
He squints at my card, and then at my face.
“In case you can’t read it, that says I’m a detective inspector from Scotland Yard… now, how about you scuttle off home?”
“What about the other fella?” he asks, pointing back towards the pub.
“I’ll deal with him.” I’d rather not admit that the ‘other fella’ is my sergeant, but I will deal with him.
The man in front of me hesitates for a moment, and then, seeing I’m not about to change my mind, he nods his head, clearly regretting the action, as he grabs hold of it with his hands and holds it still again.
“Make sure you do…” He lets one of his hands drop and wags a finger at me.
“I will,” I confirm and watch while he executes a complicated turn, that almost involves him falling over his own feet, before he starts to stumble down the road. I give him a few minutes, before going back inside the pub and straight over to Ellis.
“I’ve got no idea what you’re playing at,” I whisper, getting close enough that I know he’ll be able to hear me, “but you need to go home. Now. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
He nods his head, looking a little shamefaced, and I turn away to find Mr Johnson staring at me from his table near the front of the pub. He gives me a slight smile, which I return, just as I hear the sound of falling furniture from behind me, and I spin around to see Ellis pulling himself up on the bar, a stool lying on the floor beside him.
“How drunk are you?” I ask, going back over to him.
“I’m not. I just tripped.” He sounds more coherent than I’d expected.
“Of course you did.” I set the stool upright. “Sit on that and stay put. I’ll be back in a minute.” I don’t wait for a reply but go back over towards Amelie, ignoring Johnson, although I can feel his eyes on me the whole time.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I get to her. “That was a fight between one of my men and a customer.”
“One of your men?”
“Yes. A sergeant, from the station.”
“Oh dear.”
“Yes. I’m afraid I’m going to have to see him home. I think he’s had a little too much to drink.”
“I’ll help you,” she offers, smiling.
“I couldn’t ask that of you.”
“Well, I’m not going to stay here by myself, and I’m certainly not walking home alone…”
She has a point. “Well… if you’re sure you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind at all.” She stands and I take her coat from the back of her chair, holding it out so she can put it on again. “Thank you,” she says, turning to me. “Where is he?”
“Over by the bar. Follow me.”
We go back over, to find Ellis exactly where I left him, thank goodness.
“What do you want me to do?” she asks.
“Just open the door for me, can you?” I help Ellis to his feet. He manages to walk quite well and I guide him out of the pub, Amelie closing the door behind us. I make a point of not looking in Mr Johnson’s direction as we pass. I have no wish to see his judgemental gaze any more tonight, or the realisation on his face that I’m there with Amelie, although I doubt he’s any more aware of her than he was of Beth… Still, you never know.
