Pray for the Dying by Quintin Jardine Page B

worked once, but now I’d just feel sorry for you, ’cos you’re an endangered species in Scotland.’ She raised an eyebrow, reached behind and underneath her and took his scrotum in her right hand, massaging him, gently. ‘You’re not, are you?’ she asked.
    ‘Absolutely not! Absolutely not!’
    ‘Just as well,’ she laughed, releasing him.
    ‘You don’t need to stop that, though.’
    ‘Yes, I do. I’m knackered.’ She pushed herself to her feet, bounced on the mattress as if it was a trampoline, and jumped sideways off the bed. ‘Besides, have you seen what time it is?’
    ‘No; a gentleman removes his Tory Rolex, remember.’
    ‘And this lady keeps on her nice socialist Citizen. For your information it’s gone half past twelve.’
    ‘Missed breakfast, then,’ he observed, with a cheerful grin. ‘Have we still got fairies at the bottom of the garden?’
    ‘My unwanted guardians, you mean?’ She crossed to the window and looked outside, taking hold of a curtain and drawing it across her body. ‘Yup. They’re parked across your driveway too; that’s a clear sign to anyone that there’s something going on here. I thought the protection people were supposed to be subtle. Here,’ she added, ‘do you ever have paparazzi hanging around?’
    ‘Yes,’ he exclaimed, sitting upright, suddenly alarmed, ‘so get your face away from the window.’
    She stayed where she was, looking back over her shoulder, and letting go of the curtain. ‘Why? Would I be bad for your image? Would your fans not approve of you with an older woman?’
    ‘I’m not worried about my image, Aileen,’ he protested. ‘I’m concerned about yours. You’re married to a bloody chief constable, remember, and you’re a top politician. You can’t afford scandal.’
    She left the window and winked at him. ‘Not to “a chief constable”, Joey; to “The Chief Constable”. Bob’s taking over the Strathclyde job; it’s an emergency appointment. There was nobody else there anyway.’
    Her reassurance was wasted on him. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said, ‘so these guys outside, they report to him?’
    She shrugged. ‘I suppose they do. But can you see them being brave enough to go to him and say, “By the way, sir, your wife’s shagging Joey Morocco”? Somehow I don’t. But even if they did, frankly I would not give the tiniest monkey’s. I wouldn’t lose my party job over this, for I’m divorcing Chief Constable Skinner just as fast as I can, or he’s divorcing me, if he gets in first.’ She read his concern. ‘Don’t worry, Joey. You won’t be caught in the middle. The split between Bob and me, it’s not about sex, it’s about ambitions that could not be further apart. You and me? We’re just a bit of fun, right?’
    He hesitated, then nodded.
    ‘That’s how it was when you were starting out on that soap on BBC Scotland, fun. Now you’re in big-budget movies, moved upmarket, and I’m free and soon to be single again, but it’s still just fun, convenient uncomplicated nookie, no more than that. You’re a sexy guy and I’m a crackin’ ride, as my coarser male constituents would say, so let’s just enjoy it without either of us worrying about the other. Deal?’
    His second nod was more convincing. ‘Deal.’
    ‘Good, now what do you do for Sunday lunch these days?’
    ‘Usually I go out for it. Today, maybe not; I’ll see what’s in the fridge.’
    ‘Do that, and I’ll get showered and dressed. No rush, though. I’d like to lie low here for the rest of the day, if I can.’
    ‘Of course. We might even manage breakfast tomorrow?’
    ‘Sounds like a plan. Thanks. You’re a sweetheart. It really is good to have somewhere to hide out just now. Actually, I’m a chancer,’ she admitted. ‘I brought enough clothes with me for two nights.’ She shuddered. ‘God, was I glad to get out of that dress, with the bloodstains. I felt like Jackie Kennedy.’
    He winced at the comparison as she went into his