was ready, spread on the little table which he’d brought into the living room out of the squalor that was now the kitchen.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll clear up afterwards. Not a dish shall you wash tonight,’ he said. ‘I’m going to spoil you.’
He was as good as his word. The dinner was perfect, ending with a
crème brÛlée
that first he swore he’d made himself and then admitted he’d brought from one of the restaurants he’d inherited from his father, and which he still ran in tandem with his police job, with great skill and considerable financial flair. (‘And don’t it taste unbelievably home-made? I tell you, we’re the best restaurants in the whole bleedin’ East End!’) Afterwards he cleaned up, whistling tunelessly through his teeth throughout, the way he did when he was particularly contented, leaving her stretched on the sofa in a pleasant post-prandial doze, refusing to think about Sheila, or her confusion over Zack. All was well. Gus was home and what more could she want?
Now, sitting at her desk in the path. lab office, leaning back with her hands linked behind her head, her lips curved a little reminiscently. When Gus was in the happy mood he hadbeen in last night, lovemaking was something else. And his mood had been particularly happy.
Afterwards, as she half dozed, curled up in the crook of his arm, he had told her why he was so pleased with himself. ‘Special new job, sweetheart. You remember Bumble Bee? The all-out effort to prevent burglary? Well, we’re doing something similar on our patch to pre-empt some of these buggers who come in with fancy ideas about uniting to make families to run things on the villains’ side. They get their ideas from watching cruddy American movies about Godfathers and they’ve got to be stopped. You remember how it was with the last case.’
She remembered. She’d had to work very hard indeed to sort out the mess he had got himself into and she opened her mouth to say as much. But he rode over her, and she let herself slide back into sleepiness.
‘Well, it seems they’re trying again. We’re getting a bit of a whisper from here and there, so we’re going in with all the airy grace of Saddam Hussein with a boil on his bottom to clobber them before they so much as get a packet of paperclips ready for their first meeting.’ He tightened his arm around her. ‘I might be out and about a bit more than I usually am. Can you put up with that?’
She had snorted softly, her sleepiness banished suddenly. ‘Do I have a choice?’
He was silent for a moment and then said uncomfortably, ‘Well, I guess not, doll. But I’ll tell you what. I’m going to book us a holiday before I buckle down to all this. Just a week, maybe, in France or Spain? We’ll just get in the car, pip through the Tunnel, and then take the route south. How about that? Would you like a bit of French nosh and scenery?’
‘Before you start the new project?’ George said, rousing herself. ‘But I’m not sure I can get the time off that easily.’
‘Well, tell ’em you’ve got to. You haven’t had a holiday for ages.’
‘That’s true, but —’
‘So it’s high time. Tell ’em we’re off — oh — next week.’ He began to sing growlingly into her ear an old-fashioned version of ‘The Vagabond’s Song’, which burbled about ‘bed in the bush with stars to see, bread I dip in the river — there’s the life for a man like me, there’s the life for e-e-e-ever’, and she’d fallen asleep to it as to a lullaby.
Now she sighed, straightening in her chair as she tried to concentrate again. Life was just a little more complicated than it ought to be … She had to think of work and coping somehow until Sheila was back, and dealing with Zack next time she saw him, and … ‘Oh, hell!’ she said aloud.
By lunchtime when she’d finished her post-mortem and reported death from natural causes to the coroner’s officer, and had showered (scrubbing herself extra hard
‘Don’t worry, I’ll clear up afterwards. Not a dish shall you wash tonight,’ he said. ‘I’m going to spoil you.’
He was as good as his word. The dinner was perfect, ending with a
crème brÛlée
that first he swore he’d made himself and then admitted he’d brought from one of the restaurants he’d inherited from his father, and which he still ran in tandem with his police job, with great skill and considerable financial flair. (‘And don’t it taste unbelievably home-made? I tell you, we’re the best restaurants in the whole bleedin’ East End!’) Afterwards he cleaned up, whistling tunelessly through his teeth throughout, the way he did when he was particularly contented, leaving her stretched on the sofa in a pleasant post-prandial doze, refusing to think about Sheila, or her confusion over Zack. All was well. Gus was home and what more could she want?
Now, sitting at her desk in the path. lab office, leaning back with her hands linked behind her head, her lips curved a little reminiscently. When Gus was in the happy mood he hadbeen in last night, lovemaking was something else. And his mood had been particularly happy.
Afterwards, as she half dozed, curled up in the crook of his arm, he had told her why he was so pleased with himself. ‘Special new job, sweetheart. You remember Bumble Bee? The all-out effort to prevent burglary? Well, we’re doing something similar on our patch to pre-empt some of these buggers who come in with fancy ideas about uniting to make families to run things on the villains’ side. They get their ideas from watching cruddy American movies about Godfathers and they’ve got to be stopped. You remember how it was with the last case.’
She remembered. She’d had to work very hard indeed to sort out the mess he had got himself into and she opened her mouth to say as much. But he rode over her, and she let herself slide back into sleepiness.
‘Well, it seems they’re trying again. We’re getting a bit of a whisper from here and there, so we’re going in with all the airy grace of Saddam Hussein with a boil on his bottom to clobber them before they so much as get a packet of paperclips ready for their first meeting.’ He tightened his arm around her. ‘I might be out and about a bit more than I usually am. Can you put up with that?’
She had snorted softly, her sleepiness banished suddenly. ‘Do I have a choice?’
He was silent for a moment and then said uncomfortably, ‘Well, I guess not, doll. But I’ll tell you what. I’m going to book us a holiday before I buckle down to all this. Just a week, maybe, in France or Spain? We’ll just get in the car, pip through the Tunnel, and then take the route south. How about that? Would you like a bit of French nosh and scenery?’
‘Before you start the new project?’ George said, rousing herself. ‘But I’m not sure I can get the time off that easily.’
‘Well, tell ’em you’ve got to. You haven’t had a holiday for ages.’
‘That’s true, but —’
‘So it’s high time. Tell ’em we’re off — oh — next week.’ He began to sing growlingly into her ear an old-fashioned version of ‘The Vagabond’s Song’, which burbled about ‘bed in the bush with stars to see, bread I dip in the river — there’s the life for a man like me, there’s the life for e-e-e-ever’, and she’d fallen asleep to it as to a lullaby.
Now she sighed, straightening in her chair as she tried to concentrate again. Life was just a little more complicated than it ought to be … She had to think of work and coping somehow until Sheila was back, and dealing with Zack next time she saw him, and … ‘Oh, hell!’ she said aloud.
By lunchtime when she’d finished her post-mortem and reported death from natural causes to the coroner’s officer, and had showered (scrubbing herself extra hard
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