sorry,’ she said sheepishly. ‘Mustn’t start thinking I’m a super-sleuth, must I? Your department.’
‘Well, your experience of murderers is a little specialised. It would be stupid to kill someone after you’ve threatened them, but actually, most murderers are stupid. Makes my life easier. Intelligent murderers are so much harder to catch. Anyway, I am pretty certain about this one. He disappeared from his bedsit some time over the weekend of the bank holiday. He must have put the device together somewhere else, there’s no trace of materials or equipment in the room. And he probably left town as soon as he’d delivered it. There’s nothing mysterious about it.’
‘But you said the other neighbours were barely polite about her. Maybe someone else did it, for some other reason.’
Andrew, intent on restoring an atmosphere of homecoming, was not going into the details of the police search for Brendan Twigg or anything else. ‘Sara. Sara, you’re the cellist. I’m the detective, remember?’
Sara sighed, nodding. ‘Sorry, Detective Chief Inspector. It’s lovely to be back,’ she said.
Andrew rose and topped up her glass, unnecessarily, and returned reluctantly to his chair. He tried to tease from her an indirect admission that she had missed him. ‘So, what did you miss most, away on your own all that time?’
She thought. What she had missed was him, desperately, but she had driven out the longing by trying to picture him thoughtless of her and re-ensconced with Valerie. She had schooled herself painfully into the belief that he was not hers to miss, and so was not now going to let him know it.
‘
The Archers,
’ she said.
She would not settle, not even in front of the fire with her glass of champagne; the fire that he had lit for her and the champagne that he had brought to welcome her home and (he had to admit the possibility) also to engineer a mellow, sensual setting for what he had wanted for so long. Now she was not even drinking, just dipping one finger in the glass and sucking it almost unwillingly. He thought of proposing some toast, to ‘Homecoming’ or even ‘Us,’ but it sounded so stupid. He was suddenly unsure of his ground. Perhaps in her absence he had been transforming their relationship in his mind until it was inevitable that the real thing should jar like this and he would feel as wrong-footed and disappointed as he did. And perhaps the reason for her corresponding awkwardness with him was that she had not thought of him once in all the time she was away.
She sighed. ‘This is lovely, Andrew.’
‘My pleasure.’
‘It’s really special.’
She drank thoughtfully from her glass. ‘Andrew?’ Her voice was very soft. ‘It’s really lovely, but there’s something I’d like instead. Something I’ve been looking forward to.’
She put her glass down on the floor. He rose at once from his chair and came to sit next to her on the sofa. She turned, uncurled her legs from under her and faced him cross-legged, serious-eyed, leaning towards him. He took her hands and kissed her on the lips, much more gently than he really wanted to.
‘Andrew?’
‘Sara, I’ve missed you so much.’
‘No, but Andrew, the thing is . . .’
‘What is it? You missed me, didn’t you?’
‘Andrew, I just meant, don’t be hurt, but it’s been such a long time . . .’
‘What, darling? You’re tired, I know, I know. We can wait.’
‘No, no, no, I didn’t mean that. Andrew . . .’
‘Oh, Sara, let’s not then. I want you so much.’
This time she returned the kiss, at length. His hands moved on to her thighs.
‘Andrew, no. I mean, I wanted to ask . . .’
‘What?’
‘Don’t be hurt. The thing is, there was lots of champagne on the plane. What I’d really like is a proper cup of tea.’
A FTER A NDREW had gone, Sara, guided by the light which beamed out across the grass from the back of the house, climbed the path to the hut at the top of the garden. She
‘Well, your experience of murderers is a little specialised. It would be stupid to kill someone after you’ve threatened them, but actually, most murderers are stupid. Makes my life easier. Intelligent murderers are so much harder to catch. Anyway, I am pretty certain about this one. He disappeared from his bedsit some time over the weekend of the bank holiday. He must have put the device together somewhere else, there’s no trace of materials or equipment in the room. And he probably left town as soon as he’d delivered it. There’s nothing mysterious about it.’
‘But you said the other neighbours were barely polite about her. Maybe someone else did it, for some other reason.’
Andrew, intent on restoring an atmosphere of homecoming, was not going into the details of the police search for Brendan Twigg or anything else. ‘Sara. Sara, you’re the cellist. I’m the detective, remember?’
Sara sighed, nodding. ‘Sorry, Detective Chief Inspector. It’s lovely to be back,’ she said.
Andrew rose and topped up her glass, unnecessarily, and returned reluctantly to his chair. He tried to tease from her an indirect admission that she had missed him. ‘So, what did you miss most, away on your own all that time?’
She thought. What she had missed was him, desperately, but she had driven out the longing by trying to picture him thoughtless of her and re-ensconced with Valerie. She had schooled herself painfully into the belief that he was not hers to miss, and so was not now going to let him know it.
‘
The Archers,
’ she said.
She would not settle, not even in front of the fire with her glass of champagne; the fire that he had lit for her and the champagne that he had brought to welcome her home and (he had to admit the possibility) also to engineer a mellow, sensual setting for what he had wanted for so long. Now she was not even drinking, just dipping one finger in the glass and sucking it almost unwillingly. He thought of proposing some toast, to ‘Homecoming’ or even ‘Us,’ but it sounded so stupid. He was suddenly unsure of his ground. Perhaps in her absence he had been transforming their relationship in his mind until it was inevitable that the real thing should jar like this and he would feel as wrong-footed and disappointed as he did. And perhaps the reason for her corresponding awkwardness with him was that she had not thought of him once in all the time she was away.
She sighed. ‘This is lovely, Andrew.’
‘My pleasure.’
‘It’s really special.’
She drank thoughtfully from her glass. ‘Andrew?’ Her voice was very soft. ‘It’s really lovely, but there’s something I’d like instead. Something I’ve been looking forward to.’
She put her glass down on the floor. He rose at once from his chair and came to sit next to her on the sofa. She turned, uncurled her legs from under her and faced him cross-legged, serious-eyed, leaning towards him. He took her hands and kissed her on the lips, much more gently than he really wanted to.
‘Andrew?’
‘Sara, I’ve missed you so much.’
‘No, but Andrew, the thing is . . .’
‘What is it? You missed me, didn’t you?’
‘Andrew, I just meant, don’t be hurt, but it’s been such a long time . . .’
‘What, darling? You’re tired, I know, I know. We can wait.’
‘No, no, no, I didn’t mean that. Andrew . . .’
‘Oh, Sara, let’s not then. I want you so much.’
This time she returned the kiss, at length. His hands moved on to her thighs.
‘Andrew, no. I mean, I wanted to ask . . .’
‘What?’
‘Don’t be hurt. The thing is, there was lots of champagne on the plane. What I’d really like is a proper cup of tea.’
A FTER A NDREW had gone, Sara, guided by the light which beamed out across the grass from the back of the house, climbed the path to the hut at the top of the garden. She
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