《False Reality》


 Volume 1 Chapter 1: The Cracked Sky

    1. The Cracked Sky


    The bungalow sat at the end of Walnut Close, a short cul-de-sac on the outskirts of Wildbridge. Inside, the rocking chair creaked as it rocked gently back and forth in the darkened room. Desiree sat quietly in the chair, studiously reading the book in her hand: The Psychology Of The Serial Killer by B.H. Warner. An unusual subject, she had to admit, but it was something that interested her greatly. She reached out for the steaming mug of freshly-made tea that sat on the nearby coffee table.


    She sighed as she took a sip of tea, and looked around the room. A haze of sunlight filtered through the heavy curtain that covered the window. She hated having to sit and read in the dark, but if she didn''t pull the curtain across during the day, the bright sunlight would shine directly into the room, bleaching all the furniture. She glanced down at the surface of the coffee table as she put her mug down. The far corner was considerably paler than the rest, from where it had previously sat in the direct sunlight.


    Having the curtain closed also allowed her to sit facing the window, without the sunlight shining directly into her eyes as she read. She had positioned the rocking chair next to the coffee table, opposite the dark blue couch that lay against the wall to her right. The wall to her left contained a simple fireplace with a plain oak surround, within which stood an old, disused electric fire. These days, the fire was little more than a decoration. It had been a long time since she had last needed to use it. She wasn''t even certain that it would still work if she switched it on. A collection of photographs hung above the fireplace, featuring several generations of her family. In truth, she wasn''t entirely certain who some of the people were.


    A plain sideboard covered in birch veneer sat against the wall behind her chair, next to the small, similarly clad bookcase from which she had retrieved the book she was now reading. She was content, in the peace and quiet of the late afternoon. Outside, the air was still and silent. No birds sang in the sky. No people toiled in their gardens. No sounds of housework or other labours emanated from within any of the neighbouring bungalows. No vehicles sped along the main road at the far end of the cul-de-sac.


    The quiet peacefulness was suddenly shattered by a loud splintering sound emanating from outside. It sounded like the smashing of a million panes of glass overhead. The sound seemed to reverberate around the room for several seconds. Startled, Desiree looked up from her book, worried that something calamitous had happened. She cocked her head to one side, and listened intently for a few seconds. But there were no further loud noises, only the gentle creaking of the rocking chair. She frowned, suddenly unsure whether there had actually been a loud noise. Had she just imagined it?


    She glanced over to the photographs above the fireplace, wondering whether there had been an earthquake, or an explosion of some sort. Although infrequent, earthquakes were not uncommon in the area. She had always attributed them to the mining works on the outskirts of the city, aftershocks from the detonation of explosive charges. Sometimes, she could even feel the bungalow shake in response to a detonation, even if she couldn''t hear the explosion.


    She hadn''t felt anything this time, though. Mind you, the bungalow was solidly built, and these earthquakes were often too small to shake it. But even the smallest earthquake seemed to be enough to set the photographs moving, swaying gently from side to side on the wall. Sometimes even the gentle rumbling sound of a cargo cruiser''s engines as it passed overhead was enough to set them off.


    The pictures hung motionless, however. She frowned. Whatever it was that had caused the loud splintering noise, it hadn''t been an earthquake. The bungalow had not been shaken at all. She stood up with a groan, and placed the book on the coffee table, next to her mug of tea. She staggered over to the window, rubbing her temples. She suddenly had a major headache. She wasn''t sure whether it had been brought on by the sudden loud splintering noise, or if it was just the strain on her eyes from reading.


    She pulled back the curtain covering the window, and bright sunlight flooded into the room. She blinked furiously. As she had been sat in the darkness for the last couple of hours, it took a moment or two for her eyes to become used to the light. Once they had adjusted sufficiently, she peered nervously out of the window.


    Her eyes widened. She raised a hand to her mouth and gasped, suddenly overcome by a combination of shock and horror. She recoiled from the window, stumbling backwards into the coffee table. The collision sent the book flying across the room, and nearly knocked over her mug, which was still half full of tea. She flailed her arms around in a futile attempt to regain her balance, but couldn''t prevent herself from tumbling to the floor. Somehow, she managed to twist her body as she fell, and narrowly avoided collapsing directly on top of the coffee table. Instead, she hit the floor between the coffee table and the couch with a loud thud.


    She lay still for a moment, her heavy landing having knocked the wind out of her. After a few moments, she let out a low moan and clambered slowly to her feet, gasping for air. On the wall, the photographs swayed gently from side to side in unison. She glared at them angrily as she dusted herself down, as if accusing them of making an adverse comment on her weight.


    She placed her hands on her lower back, and attempted to stretch herself out. A sharp, stabbing pain emanated from the base of her spine, causing her to almost double up in agony. She furiously rubbed her back to try to make the pain go away. It didn''t work. She let out a loud moan. Now her back hurt almost as much as her head.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Still moaning from the dull pain that coursed through her body, she staggered towards the door leading out into the hallway. She paused at the door, considering whether to turn left and head into the kitchen at the rear of the bungalow to fetch some painkillers. She decided that she had better take a look outside first. She reached uncertainly for the front door. She wasn''t sure whether to believe what she had seen out of the window. If it were true, then clearly something was terribly wrong with the world.


    Desiree opened the front door. Outside, the sunlight was even brighter. As she made her way down the path from her front door, she covered her eyes with her hand and blinked several times. Once her eyes stopped hurting from the light, she looked up into the sky. Her heart sank, and a horrified expression settled on her face. She hadn''t been imagining things when she looked out of the window. The sky was cracked. Or at least, there appeared to be several large cracks in the sky.


    They seemed to jag across the sky in all directions. It was almost like she was looking at the world through a cracked pane of glass. Her eyes followed the course of one of the larger cracks. It extended all they way to the ground, like a lightning strike frozen in time. As it carved its way through the sky and the landscape, the crack cut through clouds, trees, even buildings in the distance.


    As she stared in wonder and horror at the cracks in the sky, she heard the low rumbling sound of a number of small engines. Suddenly, a small group of Federation craft swept past, conducting one of their usual patrols. She stood still, as if frozen in place, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She hoped they hadn''t spotted her. Loitering outside during the day was a serious violation of the city''s ordinances. People could be locked up for merely stepping outside their house at the wrong time.


    Her eyes followed the craft as they moved across the sky. As they approached what appeared to be the largest of the cracks, she found herself wondering whether any of the pilots had noticed. Surely one of them would have seen the cracks and raised the alarm by now?


    As each craft moved directly across the line of the crack, it seemed to warp and disappear for a fraction of a second, as if it were actually passing behind the crack. She gasped, and looked around in panic. She was beginning to wonder whether she was seeing things. She rubbed her eyes and blinked furiously, trying to banish these apparent delusions from her mind. But when she looked back into the sky, the cracks were still there.


    She looked along the road at the other bungalows that lined Walnut Close. She wondered why none of her neighbours had rushed out of their house to investigate. Surely they must all have heard the loud splintering noise? Had none of them looked out of a window and noticed the cracks that had appeared in the sky?


    But the cul-de-sac was deserted. Not one of her neighbours had emerged from their bungalow to investigate the loud noise. Not one of them was staring in wonder at the cracks in the sky. She began to wonder if this was all a dream. She pinched herself firmly on the arm. No, that definitely hurt. So this probably wasn''t a dream, and was actually happening. Or was she going mad?


    She groaned and rubbed her forehead. Her headache wasn''t helping matters. At least it was nice and quiet. She suddenly frowned, realising that it was nice and quiet. Too quiet, in fact. She could no longer hear the engines of the Federation craft. Thinking back, she couldn''t remember if she had still been able to hear the engines after the craft had crossed the path of the largest crack. She scanned the sky for any sign of craft, but they had long since departed, continuing their patrol in another quadrant of the city.


    She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, partly with relief and partly in an attempt to clear her head. She shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the ridiculous notion that the sky had somehow become cracked. When she opened her eyes, and pulled her hair back from in front of her face, she sighed with disappointment. The cracks in the sky were still there. Either they were real, or she was genuinely going mad.


    She glared angrily at the sky, summoning up all her willpower to order the cracks to disappear. It didn''t help. If anything, it seemed to make matters worse. There appeared to be even more cracks in the sky now. And her headache was getting worse. She rubbed her forehead again, wondering if whatever it was that had caused all these cracks to appear in the sky was also responsible for her headache. Or were the cracks simply delusions caused by her headache?


    Still rubbing her forehead to try to ease her headache, Desiree turned and headed back into her bungalow for some painkillers. As she strode unsteadily along the path leading to her front door, she froze. She had clearly heard another splintering sound, somewhat quieter than the first but no less worrying. It had seemed to emanate from directly above her. Suddenly forgetting all about her headache, she looked upwards fearfully.


    Almost directly above her head, there appeared to be a large collection of cracks in the sky. Considerably more than in other parts, she noted as her eyes frantically darted across the sky. These cracks seemed to almost be arranged in a grid pattern, with large cracks running across the sky and smaller cracks bridging the gaps between the larger ones. As she stared in a mixture of wonder and horror, there was another splintering sound. This was followed by a barely audible plink, as one small rectangular patch of sky detached itself from its surroundings and began falling towards her.


    She screamed in horror and stumbled backwards into the road, her eyes fixed on the falling piece of sky. It rotated as it fell, becoming almost arrow-like as it gained velocity. As it fell ever closer towards her, she realised that it was going to crash directly into her bungalow. Panic-stricken, she cowered in fear and covered her head with her hands. Her entire body shaking in fear, she closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable collision.


    As her eyes were closed, she did not see that two additional cracks formed in the falling piece of sky. Nor did she observe that the piece then separated into three separate shards as it neared the ground. However, she did hear the crashing, crunching sound as the three shards smashed through the flat roof of her bungalow.


    The noise of the impact reverberated around Walnut Close for a few moments, echoing off the walls of the other bungalows. Small chunks of masonry flew through the air, bouncing off the hard tarmac of the road. For a moment, it sounded like heavy rain, or even hailstones, striking the ground.


    As the noise died down and the rain of masonry ceased, Desiree felt a small chunk of something bounce off her leg. She flinched in pain, and opened her eyes. Small pieces of brick, tile, plaster, glass, and other parts of the fabric of her bungalow littered the ground. Fearful that her bungalow may have been completely destroyed by the impact, she stood up and looked around.

 Volume 1 Chapter 2: The Uncracked Sky

    2. The Uncracked Sky


    Desiree gasped, and raised a hand to her mouth in shock. Where her bungalow had previously stood, there was now a large half-timbered building. She frowned in confusion. Was she going mad? Her home had been a simple one-storey bungalow with plain, whitewashed walls, identical to the other buildings in Walnut Close. But what stood before her was a large, three-storey building, with a black timber frame surrounding a pale plaster infill. As she gazed upon this new structure, she wondered where it had come from, and what had happened to her bungalow.


    She looked around. There still did not seem to have been any reaction at all from any of her neighbours. Surely they must all have heard the impact as the falling piece of sky crashed into her bungalow? Had not one of them even looked out of a window to see what was going on?


    But the cul-de-sac was still deserted. Not one of her neighbours had emerged from their own modern semi-detached house to investigate the loud crash. Not one of them was staring in horror at the debris that now littered the road. Not one of them had rushed out to check that she was alright.


    She frowned angrily, annoyed by the implication that none of her neighbours cared about her well-being. What if the falling piece of sky had destroyed their home? She would certainly have rushed out of her home to check that they were alright, and to offer any assistance she could. She sighed. Perhaps they were all too worried about what would happen if they were seen outside during the day. But surely the authorities would be understanding, given the circumstances?


    She shook her head. Confusing thoughts were hurtling around her head. The bungalow had been destroyed. Her bungalow! The sky was falling in. The sky! Her head was pounding, and things were not making any sense, so she closed her eyes and tried to think rationally.


    How could the sky crack? It was the sky, not a glass bowl! How could a piece fall from the sky and destroy her home? That was clearly a ridiculous notion. Even if the sky were actually a glass bowl that had cracked, a small piece of glass would not be enough to completely destroy her home. And where had this large timber-framed building come from?


    She felt a sudden gust of wind, and heard the soft rustling sound of the leaves in the trees. It sounded like they were whispering furtively among themselves. Her head pounded. Was this all a delusion brought on by her headache?


    Desiree opened her eyes, and looked around once more. There was a nagging thought in the back of her mind. She couldn''t quite put her finger on it, but there seemed to be something different about the world. She looked upwards, confused. There were no cracks in the sky. How could there be? How could she have imagined that there were? Now she was absolutely certain that she was going mad.


    She sighed in resignation, and looked around at the fragments of debris that were scattered across the road. Clearly, something bad had happened. Had something crashed into her home? Or was she imagining the debris as well?


    She rubber her temples. Her headache was still pounding away. She tried to concentrate, and focussed on the large timber-framed building that stood before her. As she cast her eyes over the structure, taking in every structural and ornamental detail, a wave of relief washed over her. The slate roof was still intact, and the timber frames did not appear to have suffered any structural damage. None of the windows appeared to have been broken. There was some minor damage to the plaster infill, but that could easily be fixed. Whatever it was that had fallen from the sky, it didn''t appear to have caused any serious damage to her home.


    Rubbing her forehead once more, she stumbled wearily along the path leading to the front door of her house. She stepped absent-mindedly over the small pieces of debris that were scattered across the path. As she opened the door and stepped inside, these small fragments of brick, tile, plaster, and glass all seemed to melt into the ground, as if they were cubes of ice left outside on a hot summer day.


    Desiree closed the door and leant wearily against it. Her head was still throbbing. She wasn''t certain that she knew what was going on any more, or even if she believed what she had seen with her own eyes. She sank to the floor in despair, and placed her head in her hands. Was this what going mad felt like?


    Inhaling deeply, she attempted to pull together all the disparate thoughts that were running around in her head, to try to make sense of everything that had happened. Had she seen cracks form in the sky, or had she imagined it? If the cracks had been real, what had happened to them? Did a piece of the sky fall to the ground, or had she imagined that as well? And why was there still that nagging thought in the back of her mind that something had somehow changed?


    She clambered unsteadily to her feet, using the door handle as a support, and staggered into the front room. She carefully made her way around the coffee table, worried that she might collapse at any moment, and slumped into her rocking chair. Still breathing deeply, she reached forward and picked up her mug. She took a sip of the tea. It was stone cold. She sighed with disappointment, and struggled to her feet.


    She noticed that the book she had been reading was lying on the floor next to the fireplace. She groaned as she bent down to pick it up. Her back still hurt from her earlier fall.


    As she stood back up, still groaning, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the small mirror above the fireplace. She frowned. Something wasn''t right. She stared at her reflection for a moment, puzzled. Certainly it was her. 45 years old. Dark skin. brown eyes. Long black hair. And yet, there was something not quite right. Weren''t there pictures above the fireplace?


    She looked around the room. Everything seemed to be in order. Her rocking chair sat next to the coffee table, opposite the brown leather couch that lay against the wall to her left. The wall to her right contained the sooty, blackened fireplace with its ornate mahogany surround. Within the fireplace sat a small mound of chopped wood, ready should she ever need to light the fire for warmth. Directly in front of her, against the back wall, sat the ornately carved oak sideboard and the solid oak bookcase stuffed with tomes on a variety of different subjects.


    She frowned. There was definitely something not quite right about the room, but she couldn''t work out what it was. She glanced down at the book in her hand, and smiled ruefully. Sighing deeply, she tossed the book on to her rocking chair and headed out of the room, along the hallway, and into the kitchen.


    She tipped the contents of her mug into the kitchen sink. As the cold tea swirled down the plug-hole with a soft gurgling sound, she shuffled wearily over to the worktop behind the door, where the kettle stood waiting to be used. She placed her mug on the worktop, and retrieved a fresh tea bag from the nearby caddy. She dropped this into the empty mug, and inspected the kettle. There was clearly not enough water left to make a mug of tea.


    She picked up the kettle with a mournful sigh, and shuffled back over to the sink. Holding the kettle under the cold water tap, she filled it with just enough water for a fresh mug of tea. A thought suddenly occurred to her as she shuffled back across the kitchen. Why do kitchen sinks have separate hot and cold taps? Surely having a single tap would be better? That way, you could easily mix hot and cold water to get the temperature you wanted.


    She placed the kettle back on the worktop and switched it on. Suddenly frowning again, she looked back at the sink. She could have sworn that her kitchen did have a mixer tap. But the evidence was there before her eyes. She shook her head sorrowfully. She must still be imagining things. Like the cracks in the sky earlier. Had it all been brought on by her headache?This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    She looked around, frowning once more. She was beginning to get the same feeling in the kitchen as in the front room. Something was not quite right. For one thing, she couldn''t remember where she had put the painkillers. She pulled open the nearest drawer, and peered inside. There were a variety of items within the drawer; batteries, food bags, even a torch. But no painkillers. She rooted through the other drawers in the kitchen, her search becoming ever more frantic. Was she losing her mind? It seemed that she was losing her memory, at least.


    Soon she had searched through all the drawers in the kitchen, without locating any painkillers. She was certain that she had some left, that she hadn''t already used the last ones. In desperation, she flung open the door of the cupboard containing the glassware and other drinking vessels. Ah! There they were! Nestling behind one of the spare mugs. She shook her head, a mix of relief and confusion etched on her face. What on earth had possessed her to hide the painkillers there?


    As she retrieved the small box of pills from their hiding place, she sighed in resignation. Perhaps this was just another side-effect of her headache. Or perhaps she was going mad. Either way, there wasn''t much she could do apart from take some painkillers and wait for her headache to subside. She opened the box and tipped two small white pills out on to the worktop, before placing the box back in its hiding place among the tumblers and mugs.


    While she waited for the kettle to boil, she leaned wearily against the worktop and looked around the kitchen. Perhaps if she worked out what was wrong in here, she would be able to work out what was wrong in the front room as well.


    It was a reasonably well-appointed kitchen, with a free-standing gas cooker and large fridge-freezer. The sink sat in the corner by the window, separated from the cooker by a small draining board. Jars of herbs and spices lined the worktops that ran along two of the walls. Various culinary implements hung from hooks on the wall. Some of them she had rarely used. Others she barely recognised. She sighed again. She still couldn''t work out exactly what it was that was wrong. She turned and glared at the kettle. It seemed to be taking a long time to boil.


    Sighing impatiently, she looked out of the kitchen window. The garden outside was in need of some attention. She screwed her face up and tried to remember when Martin, the gardener, was next due to come round. It must be in the next couple of days, judging by the length of the grass, but she couldn''t remember exactly when. She sighed again, and looked back at the kettle. It still hadn''t boiled. Why was it taking so long?


    Suddenly, she froze. She was sure there had been another splintering sound, similar to the previous ones only much quieter. It had seemed to come from one of the rooms upstairs. A puzzled expression crossed her face. But her home was a bungalow, wasn''t it?


    She moaned in anguish and shook her head violently from side to side, to try to banish the confusing thoughts that were flooding her mind. Of course her home wasn''t a bungalow. Her home was a large three-storey house. Why was she imagining that it was a bungalow?


    She sighed and rubbed her temples again. If only this blasted headache would go away, she would be able to concentrate properly. She thought she had better go and investigate this latest noise. In any case, the kettle still hadn''t boiled yet.


    She strode purposefully out of the kitchen, heading along the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. As she passed the line of family photographs that hung on the wall, they started to sway gently in the light breeze generated by her passage. In the front room, the rocking chair started to move slowly back and forth, creaking softly with each change in direction.


    She tilted her head to one side as she climbed the stairs, listening for any further noises. But it was still deathly quiet. She stopped at the top of the stairs, and looked out of the window. The branches of the nearby trees were swaying gently in the breeze, but she could not hear any birds singing, or any sounds of traffic on the nearby main road.


    She groaned. Maybe the pounding of her headache was drowning out all other sounds in her head. She rubbed her forehead, and pushed open the door to the bathroom. She glanced inside. Everything appeared to be in good order. Nothing was broken. She pulled the door shut behind her, and moved along the landing towards her daughter''s bedroom. She could now hear a soft, fluttering sound, like a piece of loose fabric flapping in the wind.


    She pushed open the door, and looked inside. The bedroom had lain empty for the past few months, as her daughter was away at university. She looked around the room. There was a thin layer of dust on every surface, but nothing appeared to be broken, or even out-of-place. She frowned as she looked at the large mirror on the side wall. Behind the mirror, the paint was flaking off the wall, in places revealing the bare brickwork. She had intended to repaint the entire wall at some point, but had never quite got around to it.


    She turned and walked out of her daughter''s bedroom, closing the door behind her. She pushed open the door of her own bedroom, and peered inside. The room was dark. She was briefly overcome with panic, as she wondered why the room was dark, and what terrors were waiting for her in the darkness.


    She took a step backwards, and the feeling of panic subsided as quickly as it had arrived. She shook her head and tutted, chastising herself for her gullibility. Get a grip, Desiree! She had simply forgotten to open the curtain that morning. She strode purposefully over to the window and pulled the curtain back.


    Light flooded into the room. She looked around, and sighed with relief. Nothing appeared to have been broken. The mirror on the wall was crooked, so she straightened it. The ornamental owl on the bedside table was facing the wrong way, so she turned it around. Nothing else seemed to be out-of-place, so she turned and headed out of the room.


    As she moved along the landing and approached the door to her mother''s bedroom, the fluttering sound became louder. Nervously, she gently pushed at the door, suddenly worried that a window had broken and a bird had flown into the room.


    The door swung gently open, and she hesitantly looked into the room. There didn''t appear to be any birds flying about, or any loose pieces of fabric flapping in the breeze. But the fluttering sound definitely seemed to be coming from within the room.


    She cautiously entered her mother''s bedroom, and looked around. The window was thankfully not broken. She couldn''t see anything else that could have caused the earlier splintering sound, nor anything that could be causing the fluttering sound that seemed to echo around the room.


    She shivered, although there was no breeze in the room. Just standing in her mother''s bedroom made her uneasy. As she turned to leave, she caught a glimpse of herself in the large mirror on the wall. She stopped, as if frozen in place. The fluttering sound seemed to be emanating from the mirror itself. As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, it seemed to move and shimmer, like a piece of fabric caught in a stiff breeze.


    She blinked, and the image reflected in the mirror suddenly changed. She was no longer staring at her own reflection, but an image of her mother. She frowned uncertainly. For some reason, that seemed to make sense. She was in her mother''s bedroom, after all. But how could that make sense? Mirrors reflect what is there, in the room. She sighed with despair. Maybe she was going mad after all.


    She glared suspiciously at the reflected image of her mother. Her mother seemed to smile back at her. Nervously, she approached the mirror and placed her hand lightly on its surface. Her mother did the same. The mirror seemed to vibrate in response to her touch, or to her mother''s touch. One or the other.


    Ripples began to form on the surface of the mirror, radiating outwards from her hand. She frowned. She knew that these ripples were no more than an illusion, the light playing tricks on her mind. Like the reflection of her mother. She was seeing things that clearly were not there. She could feel the mirror beneath her hand, a simple sheet of crystalline glass, solid and unyielding.


    As the ripples moved back and forth across the surface of the mirror, they began to merge together, forming a regular, rhythmic oscillation. The reflected image of her mother warped under this oscillation, changing shape like a reflection in one of those distorting mirrors often found at funfairs. She thought she could hear her mother''s voice, chiding her. ¡°Be a good girl,¡± the voice seemed to whisper.


    She lifted her hand away from the mirror in shock. Almost instantly, the ripples faded from view, along with the reflection of her mother. In its place was an image of a sturdily-built man in his late forties, with dark brown skin, brown eyes, and tightly-cropped black hair. He was standing before a mirror in the hallway of his home, adjusting his tie.


    Desiree smiled, and nodded in understanding. She knew what needed to be done.

 Volume 1 Chapter 3: The Postman

    3. The Postman


    Winston Staples, a sturdily-built man in his late forties, with dark brown skin, brown eyes, and black hair, stood in the hall of his house, and looked critically at his reflection in the mirror. He ran his fingers through his tightly-cropped hair and around his newly-smooth chin. On the whole, he thought he preferred how he looked with a beard, but it had just got so itchy recently that it had to go.


    He glanced at the clock in the hall, and sighed with frustration. It was nearly five past six, and he would have liked to have been out of the house before six. But he''d managed to spill some sauce on his shirt during breakfast, and had to go back upstairs and put a clean one on. Fortunately, the depot was only a few hundred metres down the road from his house. That was one of the main reasons he had decided to move his family here from the other side of Wildbridge.


    His wife Rochelle had objected, of course. He knew she would. All her friends lived on that side of town, and she had wanted their children to go to the posh school over there. But this house was closer to his job, and there was a park just around the corner, which the children loved. Also, the nearby school was just as good as the posh one. After all, it was the school that he had attended.


    He smiled to himself, remembering his school days. Good times. He couldn''t understand why Rochelle had developed such an irrational dislike of Church Hill School. Sure, it could be a little rough at times, but that only served to toughen you up. He wanted his children to grow up to be tough, strong men, rather than a couple of pansies.


    He sighed again as he retrieved his cap from the coat-hook near the door, placing it firmly on his head. Most of his colleagues at the post office, including many of those who delivered the mail, had chosen to forego the dark blue cap. He shook his head despairingly. He preferred to uphold that particular tradition. He felt that a postman without his cap didn''t garner the same kind of respect and appreciation.


    He checked in the mirror one more time that his cap and uniform, most particularly his tie, were straight. Confirming that all was in order, he glanced around the hall in search of his keys. Unable to locate them, he stepped back into the front room to check whether he had left them in there. Frowning, he looked around. Still no sign of them.


    His two children, five-year-old Reginald and four-year-old Rudy, were still sitting at the table, finishing their breakfast. He smiled at them. He doubted they would know where his keys were. They weren''t allowed to tough his things without permission.


    Winston turned back towards the hallway, trying to remember where he had last seen his keys. No luck. He sighed with annoyance. He could hear his wife in the kitchen, washing up the dishes and plates from breakfast. Perhaps she knew where they were.


    ¡°Rochelle, have you seen my keys?¡± he bellowed.


    There was the briefest of pauses before his wife replied. ¡°Aren''t they on the shelf by the door?¡±


    He stepped back into the hall, and peered at the collection of items gathering dust on the shelf. A small pot of varnish, some stickers for some charity or other, a small notepad and a few pens, but no keys.


    ¡°No,¡± he shouted back in irritation.


    Suddenly, Rochelle appeared beside him, a slim, demure woman in her early forties, with light brown skin, green eyes, and loosely-cut shoulder-length dark brown hair. She was still drying her hands on a towel. She looked around the hall and rolled her eyes in frustration at her husband, before retrieving his keys from the shelf on the other side of the door and handing them to him.


    ¡°Oh, that shelf!¡± Winston exclaimed with relief, as he snatched the keys from her hand. ¡°Why didn''t you say?¡± he added angrily, glaring at her.


    Rochelle smiled demurely in response, before giving her husband a gentle peck on the cheek. ¡°Goodbye, darling,¡± she said as she opened the door. ¡°Have a good morning.¡±


    Winston smiled and patted his wife on the backside. ¡°Good girl,¡± he whispered as he stepped outside. Rochelle shivered. He smiled.


    ¡°Oh, and don''t forget to pick the boys up from nursery after your round,¡± Rochelle reminded him. He stopped, turned towards his wife, and growled in irritation.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°Yes, I hadn''t forgotten,¡± he replied exasperatedly, ¡°the nursery closes at twelve today.¡± He glanced at the sky. The weather forecast had suggested that it was going to be a pleasant, sunny day, if a little cold for that time of year. He peered back into the house.


    ¡°Kids,¡± Winston shouted, ¡°if you behave yourselves, I''ll take you to the park in the afternoon.¡±


    Both children cheered with joy at this possibility, and climbed down off their chairs, intent on rushing towards the front door and promising to their father that they would be good. Winston smiled and chuckled. He liked being a father to two well-behaved boys.


    ¡°Ah ah ah!¡± Rochelle exclaimed as the children ran towards the door, ¡°go back and finish your breakfast, or you''ll be late.¡±


    ¡°Aww, mum,¡± the children exclaimed disappointedly as they came to a stop by the hall door.


    ¡°Listen to your mother, boys,¡± Winston remarked gravely. ¡°Remember, I said if you behave yourselves.¡±


    The boys nodded in unison, and trudged back to the breakfast table.


    Winston watched the children as they sat back down to finish their breakfasts, before looking back at his wife. ¡°You better behave yourself as well,¡± he intoned menacingly, before turning and marching down the road.


    Rochelle watched him leave, the smile frozen on her face, her hand grasping the door handle so tightly her knuckles were turning white. As he disappeared down the road, she firmly closed and locked the door, before heading back over to her children, who were still sitting excitedly at the table.


    She tried to stop her hands from shaking as she cleared away the last empty plates and bowls from the table, and sent the children upstairs to finish getting ready. She slid the crockery into the soapy water in the basin, and tightly grasped the edge of the worktop, listening to the sound of the children''s footsteps as they climbed the stairs.


    Once she was certain they were out of earshot, she lifted her shaking hands to her face and started to sob. She grabbed the towel again, and buried her face in it, trying not to make too much noise. She didn''t want the children to see her like this. It would only upset them. They were too young to understand, in any case.


    Suddenly, she heard the sound of their footsteps descending the stairs. She wiped her eyes with the towel, and finished the washing up. She was emptying the basin as Reggie bounded into the kitchen. She cast a critical eye over his appearance, then reached forward to straighten his collar.


    ¡°That''s better,¡± she smiled. ¡°Now go and put your shoes and coat on.¡±


    Reggie nodded, and rushed into the hallway. Rochelle stepped out of the kitchen and looked around for Rudy. He was sitting on the couch, looking out of the window.


    ¡°Come here Rudy.¡± she snapped, rather more sharply that she had intended.


    Rudy jumped out of his seat, worried that he was in some kind of trouble, and nervously approached his mother. Rochelle smiled at him, trying to reassure him that he wasn''t in any trouble, as she inspected his appearance.


    ¡°Pull your socks up, child,¡± she chided him, ¡°then go and put your shoes and coat on. Reggie will help you with your laces.¡±


    Rudy nodded dolefully, then turned and headed into the hallway. Rochelle looked around the front room with a sorrowful sigh. She reached down and picked Rudy''s toy train up off the floor, placing it on the low table in front of the couch. There were a couple of magazines lying on the couch, which she retrieved and placed back in the paper rack. She glanced around once more, and nodded to herself with satisfaction.


    She headed into the hallway, where the children were waiting for her, their shoes and coats having been donned. She checked their shoelaces, making sure they were tied correctly, then retrieved her own coat from its hook on the wall. She slid her arms into the sleeves, then looked around for her handbag.


    ¡°Kids, have you seen my bag anywhere?¡± she asked.


    Immediately, Reggie and Rudy both rushed back into the front room to retrieve her bag. She smiled to herself, and slid her feet into her shoes. They were a little uncomfortable, but Winston wouldn''t let her buy a new pair.


    She could hear the children arguing behind her. She turned and glared at them. They had found her handbag, and were fighting over which of them would hand it to her.


    ¡°What did your father say about behaving?¡± she admonished them. ¡°Now stop fighting and give me my bag.¡±


    Immediately, the children stopped pushing each other and arguing. But each refused to let go of her handbag. Rochelle glared at them for a few seconds, until Reggie sheepishly let go and allowed Rudy to pass the handbag to his mother.


    ¡°That''s better.¡± Rochelle told them sternly as she slung her back over her arm. ¡°Now let''s go.¡±


    She opened the front door and stepped outside. A chill gust of wind made her shiver. The children squeezed past her and rushed excitedly down the path. They stopped by the road and waited as she checked that her keys were in her bag before closing the door.


    As she waked down the path, she looked up at the sky. It looked as though the weather forecast had been correct, and it was going to be a nice sunny day. She smiled, and held out her hands for the children to hold. With Reggie to her right and Rudy to her left, both grasping her hand tightly, she led them up the road to the nursery.

 Volume 1 Chapter 4: The Old Woman

    4. The Old Woman


    Winston left the postal depot just after eleven thirty. He was annoyed. The delivery round had taken longer than usual, as there had been a couple of larger parcels among the usual collection of letters and advertising flyers. And of course, the people weren''t in when he tried to deliver the parcels, so he had to leave them a ''missed delivery'' card, and then carry the parcels all the way back to the depot.


    He sighed. Well, at least he still had enough time to walk round to the nursery and collect his children. It was a nice day, at least. As he walked along Florentine Road, past the gates leading into Wildbridge Park, he glanced over towards the children''s play area. It was currently deserted. He smiled to himself. The boys loved going to the park and playing on the swings, the slides, and the climbing frame. They weren''t as keen on the roundabout, though; it tended to make them sick.


    His smile turned into a frown. Rochelle had suggested that they should get the children looked at by a specialist, to see if they have any inner ear problems. He had told her not to worry, and that the children would grow out of it, but she kept nagging him about it. He tried his best to ignore her, though. He remembered when he was a child, he used to get sick on the dodgems at the funfair, and nobody had needed to check to see if he had any ''inner ear'' problems.


    As he crossed the road next to Church Hill Primary School, he looked at the old school building. It wouldn''t be long before Reginald was attending the school, rather than going to the nursery next door. He worried how Rudy would cope without his big brother for company. Of the two, Reginald was the more outgoing, the more willing to make friends. Perhaps a little too outgoing. However, Rudy was just too quiet, even for his liking. He didn''t seem to have made any friends at the nursery. Even Mrs Lavire, who ran the Church Hill Nursery, had noticed how quiet Rudy was. He stopped outside the entrance to the nursery and frowned. He had just realised that he didn''t even know Mrs Lavire''s first name, and his children had been attending her nursery for two years or more.


    He checked his watch. It was nearly five minutes to twelve. He was a few minutes early. He looked around. None of the other parents had arrived yet. They won''t be long, he thought to himself as he leaned carefully on the low wooden fence that surrounded the nursery and waited patiently next to the entrance. Soon, he noticed several cars pulling up nearby. Other parents arriving to collect their children, no doubt. He looked suspiciously at each car, checking that it was one belonging to a parent, and not some pervert trying to snatch one of the children.


    There was Mrs Carpenter, here to pick up little Julian. And there was Miss Harrigan, the Bartholomews'' nanny. Or was she an au pair? he wondered. He wasn''t entirely sure he understood the difference.


    He sighed and looked around. His eyes picked up a flash of colour approaching from the other side of the road. He regarded the figure suspiciously. It was one of the Green-Johnsons, in a bright red suit, here to collect the twins. Winston frowned. What was it they were called? Something Shakespearean, wasn''t it? He racked his brains. Ah, that was it ¨C Ophelia and Laertes. Strange names, even for a pair of... He paused, unsure what he should call those people these days. He looked at the waiting father. Should he still call him that? He wasn''t sure if it was Alan or Philip. They looked so alike, and always seemed to dress the same. Almost like twins themselves.


    He looked around again at the gathering crowd of parents, nannies, au pairs, and whatnot that were now surrounding him. Fortunately, he recognised all the people who had turned up at the nursery. All parents here to collect their children. Not a pervert among them. Although he wasn''t sure about the Green-Johnsons. He sighed with relief, and glanced at his watch again. Any moment now...


    The doors of the nursery were suddenly flung open, and a dozen or more small children rushed out. There was Reginald at the front, a few inches taller than the other children, and easily the quickest runner. As Reginald hurtled down the path and flung his arms around his father''s waist, Winston looked around, trying to locate Rudy. Ah, there he was, at the back as usual. He waved and shouted to his younger son, who looked up at his father and meekly waved back. Winston waited with Reginald as Rudy slowly made his way over to them.


    Once Rudy had joined them, Winston pulled Reginald''s arms from around his waist, and took both of his children by the hand. He looked back towards the nursery, and nodded cordially at Mrs Lavire, who was standing by the door and waving goodbye to all the children.


    ¡°Right, kids,¡± Winston told his two sons, ¡°let''s go back home and get something to eat. Then we can go to the park.¡± Both boys cheered and hugged their father. He smiled warmly at them, before leading them across the road, heading back towards their house.


    Once they arrived home, Winston sent the two boys upstairs to get changed, while he prepared lunch. Jam and peanut butter sandwiches for the children, and a simple salad for himself. They sat down at the table together to eat their lunches. They boys were excitable, anticipating an afternoon of fun in the park. Several times, Winston had to sternly tell them to calm down and finish their lunch.


    Once Winston had finished his own lunch, he went upstairs to get changed out of his work uniform while children finished eating. When he returned, he saw that Reginald had finished his lunch and had started to clear the table of crockery and cutlery.


    ¡°No, no, no,¡± Winston smiled as he shook his head. ¡°Leave that for your mother. You know she doesn''t like it when you break stuff,¡± he added gravely.


    Reginald looked disappointed as he placed the plates he was carrying back on the table. Winston sighed. He had noticed that Reginald had started trying to help his mother around the house. He disapproved of that kind of behaviour, and had tried to put a stop to it. But Rochelle seemed to encourage it. This annoyed him. Reginald needed to learn that clearing the table after lunch and dinner was a woman''s job, like tidying up and hoovering, washing up, ironing, and other such trivial domestic tasks. Otherwise he might grow up to be a pansy, like those Green-Johnsons.


    ¡°Right, kids. Go and put your park shoes on,¡± Winston ordered.


    The boys both rushed out into the hall, pushing and shoving each other in their excitement and desire to be the first to get ready.


    ¡°No fighting,¡± Winston shouted at them angrily, ¡°or you can stay in your rooms all afternoon.¡±


    The children suddenly fell silent, and quietly went about the business of putting their park shoes on. Each boy had two pairs of shoes; a smart pair for the nursery or when they went into town with their mother, and a rougher, dirtier pair for playing in the park or in the garden.


    Winston strode over to stand in the doorway leading from the front room into the hallway. Reginald was ready, but Rudy was still struggling with his laces. Winston sighed, and bent down to tie them properly.


    ¡°You should teach your brother how to do this,¡± Winston told Reginald.Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°I''ve been trying, dad,¡± Reginald pleaded, ¡°Rudy just can''t do them up tight enough.¡±


    Winston sighed with dissatisfaction, and regarded Rudy critically. Sometimes, he was just too dependent on his brother. He needed to learn to look after himself. Starting with being able to tie his own laces. Winston shook his head despondently, and retrieved his coat from its hook.


    ¡°Come on then,¡± he told the boys as he opened the front door.


    Immediately, Reginald raced out of the house and down the path. He stopped at the road, and waited for his brother and father to join him. Winston closed the door, then led the children round to Wildbridge Park.


    When they arrived, Winston noticed that a few of the other parents had also brought their children to the park for the afternoon. As the boys raced over to the swings and the slides, and started playing with the other children, Winston wandered over to where Mrs Carpenter and Miss Harrigan were standing. He chatted to them for a short while, all the time keeping a close eye on his two sons.


    As Reginald ascended to the top of the largest slide for the tenth time or more, Winston glanced around the park. A sudden chill gripped his body, like a gust of freezing wind had blown right through him. There was an elderly woman, sitting on a bench not far from the children''s play area. She appeared to be watching the children play. He had never seen her before. And something about her demeanour made him nervous.


    Winston gestured towards the elderly woman, drawing the attention of both Mrs Carpenter and Miss Harrigan to her.


    ¡°Have you seen her around before?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No, never.¡± Mrs Carpenter replied, while Miss Harrigan simply shook her head.


    Winston nodded cautiously. ¡°No, me neither,¡± he noted.


    Both Mrs Carpenter and Miss Harrigan cast worried glances towards their young charges. It was clear to Winston that they were also nervous about the elderly woman. He nodded thoughtfully, and glanced back towards his own children. They were still happily playing, having both moved on to the swings.


    ¡°Could you keep an eye on Reginald and Rudy for a moment?¡± he asked Mrs Carpenter. ¡°I''ll go and have a chat with her,¡± he added by was of explanation, as he gestured towards the elderly woman.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Mrs Carpenter replied, a wave of relief crossing her face.


    Winston glanced towards Miss Harrigan. She nodded cautiously, a faint smile developing on her lips.


    Winston smiled to himself as he strode over to where the elderly woman was sitting. He liked playing the knight in shining armour, the good citizen. It always impressed the ladies. Well, apart from Rochelle...


    As Winston approached the elderly woman, she turned her head stiffly to look at him, and clasped her bag tightly in both hands. Worried that she might think him a threat, Winston smiled at the woman as he neared the bench. Relieved that he appeared friendly, the woman smiled back at him, and placed her bag by her side.


    ¡°Hello, my lady,¡± Winston greeted the woman. ¡°I don''t believe I have seen you here before.¡±


    The woman continued smiling at him, and nodded towards the children. ¡°Maybe not,¡± she replied. ¡°I do come here occasionally, to get some fresh air and watch the children play.¡±


    Winston nodded uncertainly. Perhaps she had been there on other days when he had been in the park with Reginald and Rudy, and he simply had not seen her. In any case, the elderly woman did not seem a threat of any kind.


    He relaxed, and introduced himself. ¡°I''m Winston, Winston Staples,¡± he said. ¡°The two boys on the swings, they are my sons, Reginald and Rudy. Reginald is the taller one.¡±


    The old woman nodded, casting her gaze over Winston''s children. ¡°You can call me Jackie,¡± she replied, before holding her hand out to point towards Reginald. ¡°Your son is going to grow up to be a fine athlete,¡± she told Winston.


    ¡°Hopefully,¡± he smiled in return. ¡°At the moment, he wants to be a gymnast.¡±


    Jackie noticed the sadness in Winston''s voice. ¡°You''d rather he did something else?¡± she inquired.


    Winston sighed, and sat down wearily on the bench.


    ¡°Well,¡± he began, casting a critical gaze towards Reginald, ¡°I was kind of hoping he''d take up football.¡± He turned to look at Jackie. ¡°You know, so he could take care of me and his mother in our old age,¡± he laughed.


    Jackie smiled at Winston. ¡°Yes, I had high hopes for my daughter as well,¡± she replied despondently.


    ¡°Oh?¡± said Winston, willing Jackie to elaborate.


    ¡°Well, she did have a good job, I suppose,¡± Jackie continued, ¡°A solicitor. And a nice husband and a big house.¡± The sadness hung heavy in her voice as she stared into the distance. ¡°All gone now,¡± she sighed. ¡°They got divorced, and he took everything.¡± She turned to look at Winston again. ¡°Don''t let that happen to you,¡± she told him earnestly.


    Winston laughed. ¡°Don''t worry, it won''t,¡± he assured her. ¡°I love my wife, and Rochelle loves me.¡± He regarded Jackie with curiosity. Her daughter can''t have been a very good solicitor, if she let her husband take everything, he thought.


    Jackie smiled as if she knew what he was thinking, and turned her head to stare into the distance again. ¡°Oh well,¡± she sighed, ¡°at least she survived all the upheaval.¡±


    ¡°Where is she now?¡± Winston asked, with genuine curiosity.


    ¡°Oh, she lives with me at the moment,¡± Jackie replied with a smile. ¡°And her daughter ¨C my beautiful grand-daughter.¡± She turned back towards Winston, the sadness returning to her eyes. ¡°Although they are both away at the moment,¡± she added with resignation, ¡°leaving me all alone.¡± She pulled her coat around her shoulders, and shivered.


    Winston nodded and laughed. He could see what was happening here. Not that he minded. Another chance to play the part of the chivalrous knight.


    ¡°Well, my lady,¡± he asked, ¡°in that case, would you like me to escort you back to your home?¡±


    ¡°Oh, would you?¡± Jackie replied innocently. ¡°That would be so kind of you.¡±


    Winston nodded and stood up. ¡°Just let me check that the boys will be alright,¡± he told her.


    Jackie nodded, and watched Winston as he walked briskly back towards the children''s play area. He spoke to both Reginald and Rudy, to let them know where he was going, and then to Mrs Carpenter, confirming that she would be able to keep an eye on the boys while he was gone. He then returned to Jackie and helped her up from the bench.


    ¡°And where would my lady like to be taken?¡± he asked with a smile.


    ¡°Oh, just out of the gate and across the road,¡± she replied, clasping her bag in one hand and pointing in the vague direction of her house with the other.


    ¡°Very good, my lady,¡± he replied dryly, as he took her by the arm and accompanied her out of Wildbridge Park.


    Following her directions, Winston escorted Jackie out of Wildbridge Park. She led him to the end of Florentine Road, before turning right down Frobisher Avenue. After about a hundred yards, they crossed the road and headed down into a short cul-de-sac. As they walked down the cul-de-sac, Winston''s mouth dropped open in surprise. At the end of the cul-de-sac stood a large, foreboding half-timbered house.


    The black timber frames and pale plaster infill seemed incredibly out-of-place among the modern semi-detached and detached properties that lined the cul-de-sac. Winston had only seen houses like that in old photographs. He looked at Jackie, his mouth still hanging open, then back to the house.


    ¡°Wow!¡± he exclaimed eventually. ¡°That house must be really ancient. I didn''t know there were old houses like that still standing around here.¡±


    Jackie smiled knowingly. ¡°Been in my family for generations,¡± she told him. ¡°A good couple of hundred years old.¡±


    Winston looked at her in shock. ¡°You live here?¡± he asked incredulously.


    She nodded. ¡°It might be old, but it''s comfortable. Got central heating and hot water and all the modern stuff,¡± she replied. ¡°My daughter saw to that, before her divorce. Didn''t want me living in a cold and draughty house,¡± she added with a laugh.


    Stunned, Winston let go of her arm as he tried to comprehend the situation. Jackie took a couple of paces towards the house, then stopped. She opened her bag and fumbled around inside for her key. Once she had found it, she turned and looked at Winston, who was regarding her once more with curiosity.


    ¡°Would you like to come inside for a cup of tea?¡± she asked him.


    Winston hesitated. Much like Jackie when he first saw her, there was something about the house that made him nervous, and he almost felt like running away. ¡°No, no,¡± he replied, before remembering his manners. ¡°But thank you for the offer. I... er... have to get back to my children.¡± He gestured behind him, in the vague direction of Wildbridge Park.


    Jackie nodded sadly. ¡°Well, then,¡± she said, ¡°perhaps we will see each other again some time.¡± She turned and walked the few steps to the front door of the house. ¡°Maybe in the park, with your children,¡± she added, as she opened the door.


    Winston nodded and smiled at her, as she stepped inside her house. Once she was safely inside, he retreated out of the cul-de-sac, almost running back to Wildbridge Park to collect his two sons and take them home for tea.


    Jackie watched him go. ¡°Farewell for now, my young gentleman,¡± she whispered as she closed the door.

 Volume 1 Chapter 5: The Unexpected Delivery

    5. The Unexpected Delivery


    Winston stopped at the end of Florentine Road and checked the remaining contents of his delivery bag. There were only a couple of letters left to deliver. He checked the addresses. Both were for Mackenzie Drive. He sighed in annoyance. Why should he have to go all the way over there just to deliver a couple of stupid letters? It would take him almost as much time to go down there and come back as it did to do the rest of his delivery round.


    He glared down the length of Frobisher Avenue. Mackenzie Drive was right at the other end, almost into the centre of town. Honestly, it was closer to Pete''s round than to his. He sighed with exasperation. He knew that technically, it was still part of his round, like Frobisher Avenue and Gilbert Close. But most of the addresses that he delivered to on those two roads were at this end, near the junction with Florentine Road and Wildbridge Park. Why couldn''t the guys at the depot rearrange the delivery routes so that Pete did the deliveries on Mackenzie Drive?


    He sighed again, and climbed out of his delivery van. He tossed his delivery bag, with its two remaining letters, on to the passenger seat, and retrieved the bunch of flowers from the parcel shelf. He''d had to leave home early to go into town and buy the flowers. And of course, Rochelle had wanted to know why.


    It annoyed him, the way she always wanted to poke her nose into his business. Just because she was his wife. He''d told her to mind her own business, but that just seemed to upset her. Stupid woman! he muttered to himself as he closed and locked the door of the van. Honestly, if she was going to get all upset every time he told her off, what kind of example was she setting the boys? he growled as he arranged the flowers so that they looked as presentable as possible.


    She needs be more resilient, so that when the boys grow up, they would be able to cope with people being rude to them, he told himself as he walked around the van and checked that all the doors were locked. And she needs to mind her own business, he concluded with a final sigh of annoyance, as he bent down and checked his appearance in the wing mirror.


    Satisfied that he also looked as presentable as possible, Winston checked along Florentine Road for any oncoming traffic, before striding across the road and down Frobisher Avenue. He soon reached the end of the cul-de-sac where Jackie lived. At the far end stood the large, foreboding house that Jackie called home. He shook his head. He still couldn''t believe that such a house still existed in Wildbridge, or that such a frail old lady lived there.


    He looked around for the sign that indicated the name of the cul-de-sac. Some of the hedges that bordered the gardens around here were severely overgrown. He saw the sign, partially concealed by foliage, and walked over for a closer look. He lifted the branches away from the sign so that he could read the name. Walnut Close. He shrugged his shoulders. Although it ran off Frobisher Avenue, it wasn''t a road he was familiar with. He couldn''t remember ever having to make a delivery to Walnut Close. He let go of the branches, and they dropped down to cover the sign once more.


    He was about to head down into Walnut Close when he became aware that there was somebody watching him. He turned, and looked across the road. An elderly man was standing there, resting on a wooden cane. Winston smiled. He recognised the straggly hair and beard, the old and battered suit, and the general demeanour of the other man.


    His name was Xavier St John. He lived a short distance away, on Frobisher Avenue. Winston occasionally delivered parcels to him. Books, mainly. Apparently he used to be some kind of academic, a university lecturer or something. Since he had retired a few years ago, he had gained a reputation for being more than a little eccentric. Nothing wrong with that, Winston thought to himself as he raised his hand in greeting.


    ¡°Good morning, Mr St John,¡± he called out.


    Xavier raised his cane in response, but did not speak. At least, not that Winston could hear him. He then abruptly turned and walked off, heading in the direction of his house. Winston was surprised by the sprightly manner in which he propelled himself along the road, using his cane rather like a third leg.


    As he watched Xavier go, Winston remembered one of the guys at the depot mentioning that he was a bit of an expert on local history. He briefly considered crossing the road to catch up with him and ask him about Jackie''s house, but Xavier had already disappeared from view. Maybe another time, then, Winston sighed, and looked down at the bunch of flowers in his hand. He hoped Jackie like flowers.


    Bouquet in hand, Winston strolled into Walnut Close. He looked at the house in the cul-de-sac. Apart from the old house at the end, they were all modern two-storey properties. A couple of semi-detached buildings at the entrance to the cul-de-sac, then three detached houses on either side, leading to the old house.


    He stood outside the old house, nervously inspecting the architecture. It seemed to be in fairly good condition, considering its age. How old had Jackie said it was? Two hundred years or more, wasn''t it? He wasn''t sure he believed that. He peered at the dark timber frames. They didn''t seem to have started to rot away. Were they original, or modern replacements? He wasn''t an expert on old houses, but there again, who was these days? The timbers looked authentic enough, a little warped and knotted, not quite straight. Unlike modern materials, which were all machine cut and dead straight.


    He stepped back and inspected the roof. Again, the slates looked authentic enough, but there didn''t seem to be any weathering or damage. In fact, the only part of the fa?ade that was not completely perfect was the plaster infill between the timbers. There was some minor damage here and there, where small pieces of plaster had cracked and fallen away from the wall. Nothing too serious, though, he thought to himself. Something that could easily be fixed. He was sure he knew somebody who would be able to do that. Who was it? His brow furrowed as he tried to remember. Raj''s brother-in-law? No, that didn''t sound right.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    He sighed with frustration. He''d have to ask at the depot when he got back, if he didn''t remember before then. Maybe he could suggest it to Jackie. He strode over to the front door of the old house and looked around. He was slightly disappointed. He had half-expected there to be a chain he could pull that would summon the butler or something. But there wasn''t even a doorbell. He knocked loudly on the door, and waited.


    As he waited, he looked around, noting that the small garden didn''t appear to be lovingly maintained. The grass needed cutting, and there were several large weeds that needed removing. He shook his head and tutted. He guessed that Jackie was too old and frail to tend to her own garden, but couldn''t she get somebody else in to do it for her? What about that daughter she mentioned?


    He turned around as the door opened. To his surprise, a younger woman stood there.


    ¡°Oh!¡± Winston exclaimed, slightly taken aback.


    The woman stared at him, wide-eyed and wordless. Winston regarded her for a moment, as he regained his composure. She seemed to be of similar age to him, with chocolate-coloured skin, large brown eyes, and long black hair that cascaded loosely down her back. This must be the daughter that Jackie mentioned, he thought.


    ¡°Hello, my lady,¡± he smiled, as warmly and non-threateningly as he could.


    ¡°Hello,¡± the woman replied uncertainly, regarding Winston with a combination of fear and intrigue.


    Winston nodded and smiled to himself. He liked it when women showed him a decent amount of respect. Quite right, too. After all, he was a man. The superior sex. Rochelle could learn a lot from this woman about how to behave.


    ¡°Do you have a package for my mother?¡± the woman asked nervously.


    Winston frowned. Package? Then realisation dawned. Of course! He was wearing his postman''s uniform. She obviously thought he was delivering something to the house. Well, in a way, he was.


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± he replied, showing the bunch of flowers to the woman. ¡°I brought these for her.¡±


    The woman frowned, confused for a moment.


    ¡°I met your mother in the park yesterday,¡± he explained, ¡°and I thought I''d call round to make sure she was alright.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± the woman sighed with relief. ¡°You must be the kind gentleman who walked my mother back home.¡± She paused, and looked back into the house for a moment, as if either lost in thought or listening for a distant sound. She turned back to Winston and smiled warmly. ¡°She told me all about you,¡± she added.


    Winston smiled in return. ¡°Sh told me quite a bit about you, as well,¡± he said. ¡°Although I don''t recall her mentioning a name....¡±


    The woman giggled demurely. ¡°Oh, I''m Desiree,¡± she replied, extending her hand to shake Winston''s.


    Winston shook her hand gently, noting how soft and supple her skin was. Not like Rochelle''s. Her hands were rough and hard. She had said it was because of all the washing and cleaning she did. He didn''t believe her. If that were true, then why weren''t all women''s hands like that?


    Desiree withdrew her hand and sighed. ¡°I''m afraid my mother isn''t feeling too well this morning,¡± she told him. ¡°I think she may have picked up a slight chill yesterday.¡±


    Winston nodded gravely. ¡°Yes, it was a little cold yesterday, wasn''t it?¡± he replied. He looked down at the bunch of flowers in his hand, and sighed. He looked back at Desiree. Well, it hadn''t been an entirely wasted journey, he smiled to himself.


    He presented the flowers to Desiree. ¡°Would you give these to your mother?¡± he asked. ¡°I hope she will be feeling better soon.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Desiree nodded, accepting the flowers. ¡°I''m sure my mother will be alright. It''s just, at her age, she has to be a little more careful and wrap up warmly when she goes out.¡±


    Winston smiled and nodded. That was something he had noticed in Rochelle as well. She never seemed to wear the right clothes for the weather. She was always complaining about being too hot or too cold. He regarded Desiree, intrigued. She seemed to be rather more sensible than most women he had met. Why had he not encountered her before? he wondered. If only they had met six or seven years ago, he sighed to himself. Things would have been a lot different. And Rochelle would have had to find somebody else to marry and annoy.


    ¡°Won''t you come inside for a moment?¡± Desiree asked. ¡°I''ve just boiled the kettle.¡±


    The question jolted Winston out of his reverie. He was slightly taken aback. Could she read his mind? Was she trying to seduce him? He grinned to himself. Quite right, too. After all, what woman could resist such a fine figure of a man.


    He gathered himself, and considered the proposition. Certainly, he thought Desiree was rather attractive. And she seemed much more... respectful towards him than Rochelle had ever been. But there was still something ¨C the house, Jackie, perhaps even Desiree herself ¨C that made him nervous. ¡°Thank you, but no,¡± he replied, remembering his manners. ¡°I have to, er, finish my round...¡±


    Desiree smiled, the disappointment etched on her face. ¡°Oh well, perhaps another time, then,¡± she sighed. ¡°If you''re quite sure, that is,¡± she added, seductively playing with her hair.


    Winston took a step back, surprised by the sudden change in Desiree''s demeanour. So she was trying to seduce him. He nodded with satisfaction. Quite right, too. But he was married. And he did have to finish his delivery round. He sighed with disappointment.


    ¡°Maybe another time,¡± he told her.


    Desiree sighed. ¡°Well, goodbye, then,¡± she said, her voice tinged with disappointment.


    ¡°Goodbye, my lady,¡± Winston replied with a smile, before turning and walking back down the path.


    Desiree watched as Winston strode along the road, out of Walnut Close. As he turned right and headed along Frobisher Avenue, she closed the door with a heavy sigh. She looked down at the flowers in her hand, emitting a groan of frustration as she threw them irately into the nearby waste-basket.


    ¡°Next time,¡± she muttered angrily to herself, as she stormed into the kitchen.

 Volume 1 Chapter 6: The Mechanic

    6. The Mechanic


    Nathan Walker bounded down the stairs and grabbed a set of keys from the table in the hall. He was a tall, gangly man in his late twenties, with pale, oil-stained skin, grey eyes, and short, wavy light brown hair. As his hand reached out for the front door, preparing to fling it open and head out into the world beyond, he glanced towards the clock. It was about six minutes past seven. The tram was scheduled to arrive at sixteen minutes past, and the tram stop was only across the street from his mother''s house. So Nathan was in no rush. He stopped, and tilted his head to one side, listening for the sound of his mother busying herself in the kitchen. She was busy tidying up after breakfast.


    ¡°Bye, mum! I''m off to work!¡± he called out, as he leaned into the lounge and looked towards the kitchen door. The sounds of his mother''s industry ceased and, after a brief pause, her head appeared around the kitchen door.


    ¡°Have a good day, Nathan!¡± she replied with a smile.


    Nathan smiled back, but did not move. He knew what was coming next. His mother''s forehead creased briefly, as if she was struggling to pin down a thought that was travelling briskly across her mind. Her eyes widened as she caught up with the thought and remembered what else she needed to say.


    ¡°You haven''t forgotten that I''m being taken out to dinner tonight?¡± she asked, still frowning. ¡°I did tell you, didn''t I?¡±


    ¡°Yes, mum, you did tell me,¡± Nathan replied with a wry smile. ¡°And no, mum, I hadn''t forgotten.¡±


    Nathan sighed wearily. On the whole, he was happy that his mother was going out dating. She had spent too much time cooped up indoors since his father had... left them... and it would undoubtedly do her some good to get out now and again. But she was too old to be strutting around like a twenty-one year old.


    His mother frowned as she emerged fully from the kitchen, resting her hand on the door handle. She was a mature woman in her early fifties, considerably shorter than him and with skin a shade darker, but with the same grey eyes, and hair that had almost completely turned grey but was once the same colour as her son''s.


    ¡°You will be OK to sort out your own dinner, won''t you?¡± she asked, a concerned look on her face. ¡°I mean, I could get something out of the freezer for you and leave it in the oven...¡± she suggested helpfully.


    Nathan sighed. Since being left on her own, his mother had directed most of her energy towards looking after him, and she did dote on him rather a lot. At times, this made him more than a little uncomfortable. He could sense that this was going to be one of those times.


    ¡°Mum, I''m twenty-seven,¡± he replied indignantly. ¡°I can look after myself. You don''t have to worry about me.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    A warm smile returned to his mother''s face. ¡°I know,¡± she replied in a reassuring tone. ¡°I just don''t want you to starve.¡±


    Nathan shook his head wearily. There she goes again...


    ¡°I told you, don''t worry about me,¡± he admonished her playfully. ¡°I''m going out with the guys from work tonight. Didn''t I tell you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that''s right,¡± his mother replied, remembering their conversation from earlier in the week. ¡°You were going to try that new place on the edge of town, weren''t you?¡±


    ¡°That''s right,¡± Nathan replied with an enthusiastic nod. ¡°The Wolf and Dog. It''s only been open for a month or so, but everybody''s been saying how good it is.¡±


    ¡°Well, don''t wait up for me!¡± his mother exclaimed with a laugh as she turned to head back into the kitchen. ¡°This gentleman I''m meeting might be rich and ready to whisk me off somewhere exotic for the weekend!¡±


    Nathan rolled his eyes. ¡°Yeah, right, mum,¡± he replied sarcastically, but with a hint of trepidation. Although he''d never tell his mother, Nathan was a little apprehensive about her potentially bringing another man into their lives. He had got rather used to it being just the two of them.


    His mother paused and turned her head to stick her tongue out at him. ¡°You never know, it might happen one day,¡± she retorted with a giggle. Nathan sighed with exasperation, and looked down at the floor, not wanting to meet her gaze. He knew what was coming next.


    ¡°Tell you what, if you don''t wait up for me, I won''t wait up for you,¡± she continued conspiratorially. ¡°After all, you might meet someone nice and go somewhere romantic...¡±


    Nathan nodded gloomily. His mother was always going on about how he could meet a nice girl at work, down the shops, in the pub, anywhere. And in the past, he had. But since Juliana... well, he just hadn''t felt like actually going and meeting girls.


    He glanced up at his mother, who was still standing at the kitchen door, her hand poised on the door handle. ¡°Well, I''ll try to be quiet and not wake you when I get in,¡± he replied uneasily, before turning and heading back into the hall. He placed his hand on the door handle, ready to fling it open and stride purposefully out of the house when he stopped, sensing a subtle change in his mother''s demeanour. He sighed with a mix of exasperation and puzzlement, and stepped back into the lounge. The frown had returned to his mother''s face, as if she was struggling to remember some important detail. He glared at her and tilted his head meaningfully toward the clock. It was now twelve minutes past seven.


    ¡°Oh!¡± she exclaimed suddenly, making Nathan jump. ¡°Don''t forget to buy some flowers for your father.¡±


    Nathan sighed and nodded. A worried look crossed his mother''s face. ¡°You hadn''t forgotten we are going to visit him tomorrow, had you?¡± she asked.


    Nathan looked down at the floor again in frustration. ¡°No, mum, I hadn''t forgotten,¡± he replied, the exasperation creeping into his voice.


    His mother sighed, and Nathan could feel her eyes burrowing into the crown of his head. Almost embarrassed, he glanced back up at her and smiled wearily.


    ¡°I''ll sort some flowers out at lunchtime,¡± he assured her.


    ¡°Good,¡± his mother replied, nodding with satisfaction.


    Nathan grinned at her. ¡°Unless you do get whisked away somewhere exotic,¡± he added playfully.


    His mother stuck her tongue out at him again, and looked around for something to throw at him. Nathan quickly stepped back into the hall and opened the front door.


    ¡°Bye, mum!¡± he called out again, bounding out of the house and almost slamming the door shut behind him.


    ¡°Noisy sod!¡± his mother muttered to herself with a wry smile, as she turned and headed back into the kitchen to finish the washing up.

 Volume 1 Chapter 7: The Evening Meal

    7. The Evening Meal


    Nathan looked around as he entered the Wolf and Dog, the new public house on the outskirts of Wildbridge. It was the first time he had been in this establishment, and he was curious to see what it was actually like. Several of the customers at the garage had commented on how good it was, so his colleagues ¨C well, Dean and Mick, mainly ¨C had decided to check it out, and he had tagged along. Tony had joined them as well; only Barry had passed, saying that he had a hot date that night. Not that any of them believed him.


    Mick, the eldest and the unofficial leader of the group, stopped and looked around. He was a short, muscular Yorkshireman in his early fifties, with pale skin, pale blue eyes, and greying blond hair. ¡°Right, gentlemen,¡± he began, rubbing his hands together. ¡°Where shall we sit?¡±


    The others looked around. Surprisingly, given the rave reviews this establishment had been getting, it didn''t seem to be that full.


    ¡°Looks a bit empty,¡± Nathan noted.


    Mick nodded. ¡°Probably a bit early for the regulars,¡± he suggested.


    Dean, a tall, dark-haired man in his late forties, with brown eyes and a Mediterranean complexion, pointed towards an empty table nearby. ¡°How about there?¡± he asked. ¡°It''s not too far from the bar, and should be close enough to the bogs for Tony.¡± They all laughed in agreement. Tony''s lack of bladder control was legendary. Nathan followed the others over to the table. Dean and Mick immediately claimed the two seats facing the bar, so he sat down opposite them.


    Tony, a dark-skinned, stocky man of Nigerian descent, with dark brown eyes and a head that was almost devoid of hair, save for a few black strands around his ears, sat down next to Nathan, then immediately got up again.


    ¡°You know what,¡± he said, ¡°I think I''d better pay a visit before we start.¡± The others laughed as he turned and headed towards the bathrooms.


    Mick turned to Dean. ¡°Looks like it''s your round first, as Barry isn''t here,¡± he said.


    Dean sighed, and stood up. ¡°Right, the usual all round?¡± he asked. Nathan and Mick both nodded, and Dean headed over to the bar to order the first round of drinks.


    He returned with the drinks just as Tony got back from the bathroom. ¡°Must have been a long one,¡± Dean remarked.


    Tony laughed in response. ¡°Oh, man, you should see the facilities,¡± he told them, his voice full of awe. ¡°It''s all motion-sensitive, you don''t have to touch anything. It''s all just...¡± Tony moved his hands back over the table, mimicking the action of washing them under the taps. ¡°Whoosh, and then Brrrr,¡± he added, now moving his hands up and down to simulate drying them.


    ¡°Yeah, just like everywhere else, Tone,¡± Mick laughed. ¡°Now sit down and decide what you''re going to have to eat,¡± he added, tossing a menu in Tony''s direction.


    Nathan picked up a menu and looked through the dishes on offer. The food seemed fairly standard for this type of establishment, and the prices were reasonable enough. It was a tough choice, but eventually he plumped for the chicken pie with chips and peas. Mick placed the order, once everybody had made their choice, and they chatted together while they waited for the food to be brought to their table.


    After a few minutes, Tony looked around. ¡°Did you give them the right table number, Mick?¡± he asked.


    Mick rolled his eyes. ¡°Patience, Tone,¡± he chided. ¡°Give them chance to cook the food.¡±


    ¡°I''m just hungry,¡± replied Tony.


    Dean drained the last of his pint, and looked meaningfully at Nathan''s glass. Nathan took the hint and did the same, before they both slid his glass across the table towards Mick.


    ¡°What''s this?¡± Mick asked, looking down at the glasses that were collecting in his corner of the table.


    Realising he was a little behind the others, Tony guzzled the remainder of his pint, and slid the glass across to join the others. ¡°Must be your round, Mick,¡± he suggested.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Mick sighed, and stood up. ¡°Okay, same again?¡± he asked. The others nodded. Mick picked up the empty glasses and headed over to the bar to get the second round in.


    Tony stood up again. ¡°I think I might take the opportunity...¡± he began.


    Dean laughed. ¡°Actually, I think I might do likewise,¡± he said, nodding at Nathan. ¡°Hold the fort for us for a minute, youngster,¡± he added.


    Nathan nodded and sighed. He didn''t like it when the others referred to him as youngster or lad, even though this was clearly true. Tony was the youngest of the others, and even he was eight or nine years older than Nathan. They got on well enough, but sometimes Nathan wished there was somebody in the group who was a little closer to his own age.


    He looked around. A few more patrons had arrived and taken their seats. Most of them appeared to be closer in age to Mick or Dean than to him. There didn''t appear to be any children, either. He frowned. Perhaps it was too late? he wondered. He remembered some mention of children not being allowed in taverns after seven. But surely it wasn''t that late yet?


    He looked around for a clock. He hadn''t bothered wearing a watch for several years. There was really no need. There were clocks everywhere. Everywhere except here, he sighed to himself, having failed to locate a single timepiece in the entire establishment.


    Nathan slouched back in his chair and stared vacantly at the couples and groups sitting at the nearby tables. Suddenly, Mick was standing before him, clicking his fingers.


    Mick returned with the second round of drinks, and clicked his fingers at Nathan.


    ¡°Snap out of it, lad,¡± Mick chided him. ¡°You looked like you were off on another planet there.¡±


    ¡°Just waiting for the food to arrive,¡± Nathan replied with a smile, as Mick slid a fresh pint towards him.


    Mick nodded and sat down. ¡°What time is it?¡± Nathan asked him.


    Mick looked puzzled. ¡°Why? You got a hot date later?¡± he asked, more than a hint of amusement in his voice.


    Nathan shook his head. ¡°No, just wondering why there are no kids around,¡± he replied.


    Mick looked around. ¡°Don''t think couples with young children come here,¡± he mused. ¡°Probably put off by the previous place''s reputation.¡±


    Nathan nodded. He had heard stories about the previous tavern. ¡°What was it called? The Bear?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Something like that,¡± Mick replied. ¡°The cops shut it down after somebody got glassed.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, poor bugger almost died.¡± Dean''s voice heralded his return from the bathroom. Nathan looked up at him in surprise.


    ¡°Anybody we know?¡± Mick asked.


    Dean shook his head as he sat down. ¡°No. Other side of town, from what I heard,¡± he replied.


    ¡°Long way to come for a pint and a bite,¡± Mick noted.


    ¡°Talking of which,¡± Dean commented, nodding in the direction of the kitchen door.


    Mick looked up towards where Dean was indicating. His eyes lit up. ¡°Aye up!¡± he exclaimed in surprise.


    Nathan turned his head to see what the other two were looking at. A young blonde woman, around Nathan''s age, had emerged from the kitchen carrying two plates of food. Nathan noted that she had pale, slightly tanned skin, long blonde hair, and blue eyes. He smiled with quiet amusement. He knew the other guys well enough to be certain that they would not have noticed her facial features; their eyes would have almost certainly been focused elsewhere.


    Indeed, his own eyes were drawn, almost unconsciously, down to her impressively large chest, which was putting her blouse under considerable strain. As she approached the table, Nathan was able to read her name badge, which was attached to her blouse above her left breast. It told him that her name was Monica.


    ¡°Two steak and chips.¡± she announced, either oblivious to the attention she was getting or simply used to it.


    ¡°Here and here,¡± Mick replied, gesturing to himself and towards Tony''s vacant chair.


    Monica set one of the plates down on the table in front of Mick, then reached across the table to place the other in front of Tony''s chair. She then turned and headed back to the kitchen to collect Dean and Nathan''s orders, nearly bumping into Tony as he returned from his second extended bathroom visit of the night.


    Tony''s eyes widened as he stood and watched Monica walk towards the kitchen door. When she disappeared from view, he turned and looked at the other three, a look of happy surprise on his face. ¡°Better class of waitress here,¡± he declared as he sat down.


    Mick sighed and shook his head. ¡°If I were twenty years younger,¡± he remarked.


    Dean laughed. ¡°You''d still be ten years older than her,¡± he told Mick.


    Mick scowled at Dean, then busied himself with sorting out everybody''s cutlery.


    Monica soon returned with two more plates of food, these for Dean and Nathan.


    ¡°Gammon steak?¡± she asked. Dean raised his hand, and she placed the plate on the table in front of him.


    Monica then looked directly at Nathan. ¡°And a chicken pie,¡± she added with a smile.


    Nathan nodded. Rather than walk around the table to place Nathan''s plate in front of him, Monica leaned enticingly across it, giving him a close-up view of both her bra and her impressive d¨¦colletage. Nathan blushed, and looked away.


    As Monica departed, heading back to the kitchen to collect another table''s orders, Mick looked enviously at Nathan. ¡°I think she likes you, lad,¡± he remarked.


    Nathan blushed again, and looked down at his food. The others sniggered, and Tony held his hands up, simulating squeezing a pair of breasts. ¡°Honk honk,¡± he laughed.


    ¡°Don''t be coarse, Tone,¡± Dean chided, picking up his knife and fork. He gestured towards Tony''s plate with the latter. ¡°Food time.¡±


    Tony sighed, and picked up his own knife and fork. Soon, all four of them were busy devouring their meals.

 Volume 1 Chapter 8: The Blind Date

    8. The Blind Date


    Lydia checked her watch. It was nearly ten minutes past seven. She frowned. Shelly has said that her date ¨C what was his name again? - would be there at seven o''clock on the dot. She looked around again. There were still a few people milling around, mostly couples or small groups, but the majority had already gone into the cinema.


    She sighed. She was beginning to regret agreeing to go on this blind date. Shelly had been so insistent, though. It was strange. She hardly knew the woman. Yet as soon as Shelly had heard about Peter leaving her, she had taken it upon herself to set Lydia up with ¨C who was it again? Her brother-in-law?


    Lydia sighed heavily and gripped her handbag tightly with both hands. She wondered how Shelly had found out about Peter leaving. She guessed that Nathan must have mentioned it in conversation ¨C Shelly was his boss at the garage, after all. She frowned as she tried to remember how many times she had actually met Shelly.


    The first time, as far as Lydia could remember, was at the garage''s Christmas party. Of course, some of Nathan''s colleagues had made fun of the fact that he had brought his mother along, but all in all, they had seemed like decent people. Then there was the time a couple of months ago when she had taken Peter''s car in to be checked over before selling it. That was when Shelly had first suggested setting up this date.


    Lydia had resisted the idea at first. She hadn''t felt that she was ready to start dating again. But she kept bumping into Shelly in town ¨C it was almost as if Shelly was stalking her, the number of times they had just happened to meet.


    Lydia shook her head and smiled wryly. Maybe I''m just being paranoid about it, she thought. After all, there was no reason for her to suspect Shelly of anything nefarious. The woman was just trying to be nice and introduce Lydia to this relative of hers.


    In any case, she had finally relented and agreed to go on this blind date. Now here she was, waiting to meet this gentleman. She sighed again, and looked down at her outfit. She had picked this dress out especially. She hadn''t worn it for ages, and to be honest, she was a little surprised that it still fitted her.


    ¡°Ah, you must be Lydia?¡± a male voice inquired.


    Lydia jumped, and looked up. A tallish man, with pale skin, piercing green eyes, and grey hair that was brushed back as if to accentuate his high forehead, stood before her, dressed in a smart dark blue suit.


    ¡°Err... yes,¡± she replied hesitantly, her eyes quickly scanning the immediate vicinity. Where did you come from? she wondered.


    The man proffered his hand., and introduced himself. ¡°I''m Frank, Frank Wilson.¡±


    Lydia smiled, and shook Frank''s hand. ¡°Lydia Walker,¡± she replied. ¡°Nice to meet you, Frank.¡±


    Frank regarded Lydia with a critical eye. She fidgeted with embarrassment under his gaze.


    ¡°I must say, you''re even more beautiful than Shelly suggested,¡± he concluded with a smile.


    Lydia laughed with embarrassment. It was such a cheesy line, and almost certainly not true, but she still appreciated being flattered like that.


    ¡°Anyway, I''m sorry I''m a little late,¡± Frank sighed apologetically. ¡°I had a meeting with the Super that went on a bit longer that expected.¡±


    ¡°The Super?¡± Lydia asked, suddenly curious to know more about the gentleman that stood before her.


    ¡°Yes, Superintendent Pike,¡± Frank replied with a frown, seemingly surprised that Lydia didn''t know who the Super was. There was a brief awkward silence, before realisation dawned.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Oh, Shelly didn''t tell you, did she?¡± Frank exclaimed. ¡°Sorry, I assumed she had. I''m the DI ¨C the Detective Inspector ¨C at the station in town. The one on Cook Street.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see,¡± Lydia replied. ¡°No, Shelly didn''t really tell me that much about you, I''m afraid.¡±


    Frank smiled and nodded. ¡°Well, I''m sure I can tell you all about myself over dinner tonight,¡± he said. ¡°I hope you don''t mind, but I''ve booked a table at the Eastern Promise.¡±


    ¡°The Eastern Promise?¡± Lydia echoed. ¡°That''s the new restaurant on the High Street, isn''t it?¡±


    ¡°That''s the one,¡± Frank nodded. ¡°I hope you don''t think I''m being too forward. You know, booking a table before I''d even met you,¡± he added, nervously fidgeting.


    ¡°No, not at all,¡± Lydia laughed, surprised at Frank''s apparent timidity. ¡°I''ve heard it''s quite nice there. Isn''t it a bit expensive, though?¡±


    Frank laughed. ¡°Yes, I suppose it is,¡± he conceded. ¡°But I''m sure a DI''s salary can stretch to a nice meal with a beautiful lady.¡±


    Frank offered Lydia his arm, which she took graciously. Arms linked, they walked towards the entrance to the cinema.


    ¡°So tell me, what was your meeting about?¡± Lydia enquired. ¡°Nothing major, I hope.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no, nothing major,¡± Frank replied. ¡°One of my officers is in hospital, and we were discussing whether to bring somebody in as cover.¡±


    Lydia frowned. She thought she could detect a hint of sadness in his voice. She was about to inquire further, when Frank abruptly stopped. They had arrived at the entrance to the cinema. Frank reached out and pulled open one of the doors, before bowing chivalrously.


    ¡°After you, my lady,¡± he announced, unlinking their arms and gesturing for Lydia to enter the cinema first.


    ¡°Why, thank you, my good sir,¡± Lydia replied, stepping across the threshold as daintily as she could manage.


    Frank followed Lydia into the cinema, and they linked arms once more. ¡°In the end, we decided there wasn''t any need,¡± he continued with a sigh. ¡°There aren''t enough major crimes in Wildbridge these days.¡±


    ¡°You sound almost disappointed,¡± Lydia laughed.


    Frank smiled. ¡°Well, sometimes it does get a little boring,¡± he replied, ¡°and you end up wanting there to be a murder or something, just so that you can get out and investigate.¡±


    Lydia gasped in horror. Frank chuckled and shook his head. ¡°Don''t worry,¡± he told her, ¡°I am joking. I''m as relieved as anybody that there aren''t bodies piling up on street corners here.¡±


    Lydia smiled benevolently at Frank. ¡°So which film are you taking me to see?¡± she enquired politely.


    Frank smiled at her, and gestured towards the advertising displays near the door. Lydia turned to look at the variety of films on offer. In among the modern action blockbusters, horrors, and romantic comedies, there was an old black-and-white poster for a film that she hadn''t seen for many years. ¡°Gosh!¡± she exclaimed.


    Frank nodded and smiled. ¡°I heard that they were showing Brief Encounter again, for a few days,¡± he told her. ¡°I thought we could watch that again. Of course, if you''d rather see one of the others...¡±


    Lydia shook her head vigorously. ¡°No, no,¡± she replied with a broad smile. ¡°It''s been absolutely ages since I last saw Brief Encounter, and I always loved that film.¡±


    Satisfied that Lydia was happy with his choice of film, Frank turned and looked towards the counters. There were still a few people queueing for their tickets.


    ¡°Why don''t you wait here, while I collect the tickets?¡± he suggested, unlinking their arms again.


    Lydia nodded, and took a couple of steps backwards so that she would not be in the way of the other patrons. Frank headed over to the counter with the shortest queue, and waited in line.


    Lydia waited nervously, gripping her bag tightly in both hands. He seems like a very nice gentleman. But then again, don''t they all? she thought to herself, as she looked around her immediate vicinity, mentally noting the quickest route out of the cinema. Her mind had begun to wander, imagining all manner of foul deeds that Frank may have perpetrated. She shook her head in irritation. Her imagination had a tendency to run off with itself and expect the worst from people. But he''s a police officer, she chided herself. He''s unlikely to have done anything bad. She sighed as she looked down at her dress again. And he''s booked a table at a nice restaurant for later, she told herself, wondering if her outfit was suitable for such a posh establishment.


    She shook her head again. She was certain that Frank was nothing other than a nice gentleman, despite the many phantoms her imagination was conjuring up. So she took a deep breath, and tried to banish those macabre thoughts from her head.


    She glanced over towards the counters. Frank had reached the front of the queue, and was collecting their tickets. Soon, he was striding back over to where she was standing, a broad smile on his face. She smiled nervously back at him.


    ¡°Everything alright?¡± Frank asked, frowning.


    ¡°Yes, yes, everything''s fine,¡± Lydia replied. ¡°I just get nervous in places like this, with all the dark corners and strange people.¡±


    Frank nodded. ¡°Well then, my lady. Please allow me to protect you from whatever horrors are lurking in the darkness,¡± he told her with a reassuring smile. Lydia smiled back at him, less nervously this time. They linked arms again, and walked through the door leading to the screens.

 Volume 1 Chapter ?: Jinx

    Monday Morning


    ¡°Jinx!¡±


    Detective Sergeant Serina Jackson looked up from her desk with an irritated expression on her face. She had been in the middle of transcribing some of her old case notes into her personal notebook, and the interruption had served to derail her train of thought.


    She looked across the office, towards the source of her irritation. Detective Inspector Frank Wilson was standing in the doorway of his own private office, beckoning to her. He clearly wanted her to join him in his office immediately. ¡°Oh... what does he want now?¡± she muttered to herself.


    Sighing with irritation, she locked her workstation and stood up, before placing her notebook carefully on top of her keyboard. She glared at Frank as he stood there, dressed uncomfortably in the crumpled grey suit that he had bought the other week from the discount store in the centre of town. She was surprised that he would wear such shabby clothes. Surely a Detective Inspector would be able to afford a better suit than that?


    Serina brushed the creases out of her white blouse and her dark blue, knee-length skirt, before straightening the golden chain that hung around her neck. She glared at Frank again, and sighed. Sometimes, she wondered if it had been worth the hassle of training to become a detective. She was thirty-four years old, with dark brown skin, brown eyes, and long black hair that was gathered in a loose ponytail which dropped roughly halfway down her back. With a degree in business management, she could have walked into virtually any office and instantly been given a middle management role. But no, ever since she had seen those old films and television programmes, they only thing she had wanted to do was become a detective. It had all looked so glamorous and exciting. But the reality was rather more mundane and dull.


    She had joined the Wildbridge Serious Crime Investigation team a little over ten years ago, initially at the rank of Detective Constable. Fresh out of the Academy when she arrived, she had been promoted to her current rank nearly six years ago, a rise that would doubtless be viewed as unusually rapid in some parts of the country. But here in Wildbridge, it was about the norm. Or at least it had been the norm, she mused to herself. There had been a significant turnover of staff throughout the early part of her career, but things had quietened down somewhat in recent years.


    Indeed, the only departure during last eighteen months or so had been that of her most recent partner, Detective Constable Michele Young. Serina glanced at the desk opposite her own. It was vacant, devoid of the piles of paperwork and other detritus that indicated an occupied, virtually inhabited, desk. Michele had left only a few days ago, to take on a new role in the Counter Terrorism Unit in Pulwich, on the south coast. Serina was still waiting to be assigned a new partner.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    She looked down at her own desk, and sighed. She really ought to set some time aside to tidy up. Although, she noted as she looked around the office, her desk was far from being the untidiest. Most of the desks that were scattered almost haphazardly around the moderately-sized main office were home to an interesting combination of lo-tech and hi-tech. Hand-written and typed sheets of paper jostled for space among the advanced computer workstations, digital desk phones, small personal mobile phones of different makes and sizes, and a variety of larger multi-function devices and tablets.


    As Serina made her way between these desks laden with clutter, she noticed for the first time that there was somebody else in Frank''s office. She frowned. She hadn''t seen or heard any visitors arrive. There again, she had been somewhat engrossed in her work. It was unusual, though, for a visitor to arrive in the office without at least one of her fellow officers passing comment.


    In any case, there he was. A youngish, clean-shaven and smartly-dressed man. She thought that he looked reasonably attractive. He was sitting on one of the two chairs that had been positioned in front of Frank''s desk, a deliberate act that made her somewhat apprehensive. Clearly, the other chair was intended for her, and Frank had something important to tell her. What did he want with her today? Who was this other man? She sighed. She would find out soon enough.


    Frank nodded curtly at her as she approached. Then he turned, retreating into his office and letting the door swing shut behind him. She stopped at the closed door, and sighed with exasperation. ¡°Sexist pig!¡± she muttered, to nobody in particular.


    Suddenly worried that some of her colleagues may have heard her quiet outburst, she glanced around the office. Immediately, her eyes alighted on the figure of Detective Constable Colin Brownlee, who was sitting at the desk nearest to Frank''s office. He looked up at her, and shrugged his shoulders as if to say What can you do?


    She smiled to herself. She was quite fond of Colin. He was about ten years younger than her, with smooth, blemish-free pale skin and tightly-cropped blond hair. He was always so smartly dressed, his shirt and trousers ironed and pressed to perfection. He seemed to take good care in his appearance, too. Unlike some other members of the department, she thought to herself. Although on this occasion, she wasn''t entirely sure that his blue patterned tie really went that well with his dark grey trousers.


    She sighed as she glanced around at her other colleagues. Much to her relief, none of them appeared to be paying her any attention. Certainly, none gave the impression that they had heard her utterance. She sighed again, and focused her gaze back on the door to Frank''s office.


    ¡°Don''t just stand there, girl!¡±


    She turned to see who was shouting at her now. It was Detective Sergeant Ray Walker. A gruff Northerner in his fifties, with a ruddy complexion and thinning brown hair, he was sat at his desk next to the office printer, eyeing her suspiciously. His dark blue suit had clearly seen better days. Including those days when it fitted him, she thought to herself.


    She scowled at Ray for a moment, before gently pushing the door open and entering Frank''s office.

 Volume 1 Chapter ?: The New Partner

    Serina closed the door firmly behind her, and stood with her back to the door. She glanced at Frank. He was in his late fifties, with pale skin and short grey hair that was steadily receding from his thick eyebrows. He was standing next to his large desk, which took up nearly half of the office. It was home to the usual cluster of objects. Frank''s workstation had been positioned to one side, to minimise the glare from the sunlight coming in through the large window in the far wall.


    She noted that there was a short stack of case files on the desk, prominently positioned next to the screen and the desk phone. The top file lay open and empty, the loose papers that it previously contained having been scattered across the full width of the desk, almost entirely covering his keyboard and mouse. Clearly, whatever it was that Frank wanted to tell her, it had something to do with an old case.


    She frowned, and turned her attention to the younger man. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties. He had lightly-tanned white skin and blond hair, which looked to have been recently trimmed to just above his shoulders. He was wearing a smart black suit that appeared to be a size or two too large for him, with a pressed white shirt underneath and a neatly-knotted plain black tie. He was sitting motionless in his chair, looking intently at Frank. He didn''t appear to have noticed her.


    ¡°Yes, Frank?¡± she asked, her gaze fixed on the younger man.


    ¡°Come in. Sit down.¡± Frank replied brusquely.


    She glanced at him quizzically, but he just stood there impassively, waiting for her to comply with his order. Like a sergeant major waiting impatiently for his men to get in line and stand to attention, she thought to herself. She sighed, and sat down in the vacant chair, to the right of the younger man. She was getting increasingly concerned with Frank''s demeanour. Had she done something wrong? She wasn''t being investigated by Internal Affairs, was she?


    She looked at him, a worried expression on her face. ¡°What is it, Frank?¡± she asked uncertainly.


    Frank''s shoulders slumped, and his entire manner changed. Gone was the upright, businesslike stance of a senior officer, replaced by the friendly, relaxed posture of a kindly uncle. He leaned forward towards her, a look of concern on his face. ¡°You alright, Jinx?¡± he asked.


    She glanced at the younger man again. He was still sitting motionless in his chair, his gaze still fixed on Frank. He still did not appear to have noticed her. Her eyes flicked back to Frank. He suddenly appeared agitated. She nodded slowly. ¡°Yes, I''m fine.¡± she replied. ¡°Just wondering what this is all about.¡±


    He nodded. She could tell that he wasn''t entirely satisfied with her answer. ¡°I mean, you seem excited. Like you''ve got big news to share with me.¡± she continued. Her eyes narrowed, and she regarded him with suspicion. Did he have bad news for her? Or was he just worried about how she would react to whatever it was he was about to tell her?


    ¡°And you''re also a little nervous.¡± she frowned. ¡°Why? Worried about how I will react?¡±


    He laughed nervously. A faint smile crossed her lips. Clearly, whatever it was he wanted to tell her, it wasn''t that serious. She gestured towards the younger man. ¡°So, are you going to introduce me?¡± she asked.


    Frank smiled broadly, and nodded. There appeared to be something about her behaviour that he found mildly amusing. He gestured towards the younger man. ¡°This is Cahill.¡±


    She looked at Cahill with curiosity. He turned his head and looked intently, almost blankly at her for a few seconds. Then he turned back to look at Frank, almost expectantly.


    Frank nodded and gestured towards Serina. ¡°Cahill, this is Jinx.¡±


    Cahill looked back at Serina and smiled faintly. ¡°Hello, Jinx.¡± he said. His voice was a surprisingly flat monotone.


    ¡°Hello, Cahill.¡± she replied with a cautious, uncertain smile. At least he now had a name, although she was still unsure who or what he was. She frowned, and looked questioningly at Frank again. There was certainly something unsettling about Cahill, but she couldn''t quite put her finger on what it was exactly.


    ¡°Cahill is your new partner.¡± Frank stated flatly, as if that was the most obvious fact in the world and he was surprised that she hadn''t already realised it.


    She looked shocked. ¡°Partner?¡± she echoed. ¡°But you know I don''t do rookies, Frank.¡±


    She felt a slight movement to her left. Cahill had abruptly turned in his seat, and was now looking expectantly at Frank once more.


    Frank nodded, his manner suggesting that he had anticipated her reaction. ¡°Well, you''re doing this one.¡± he told her insistently.


    She scowled at him. Clearly, she didn''t have any say in this. ¡°He had better be good, then.¡± she told him, her voice containing more than a hint of a threat.


    Frank sighed wearily and picked up a paper cup from his desk. He glanced down at it to check that it was empty, then tossed it almost absent-mindedly in Cahill''s direction. The younger man remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the cup as it flew through the air towards him. At almost the last second, he reached up and plucked the cup out of the air just before it hit him directly in the face.


    Serina gasped in shock. She had never seen anybody react quite like that. He didn''t even flinch! She looked quizzically at Frank, who smiled faintly at her. ¡°Go fetch us some drinks, lad.¡± he told Cahill. The younger man nodded and stood up. ¡°She likes her coffee black, no sugar.¡± Frank added, gesturing towards Serina.


    Cahill nodded again, and strode towards the door. Serina turned in her seat to watch him as he walked out of the office. She noted that although he moved swiftly, his movements were unusually stiff, as though he was unable to bend his knees properly.


    Once Cahill had left the office, Frank slumped in his chair with a weary sigh. ¡°He''s a good lad. Just needs a steady hand to guide him.¡± he announced to nobody in particular.


    Serina looked at him, her eyebrow raised in a quizzical fashion. Yes, she had questions. But she wasn''t entirely sure which question needed to be asked first.


    ¡°I need you to look after him for a bit. Keep him out of trouble.¡± he told her.


    That resolved the question issue. ¡°Why me?¡± she asked.


    Instantly, he replied. ¡°Because you''re good at that kind of thing.¡±


    She scowled and looked out of the window. This was true, of course. She had an exemplary record. She didn''t break the rules, or even bend them. No corners were cut, no short-cuts taken. She did everything by the book. She was generally considered to be a good example for all up-and-coming detectives. And yet...


    ¡°Oh come off it, Frank. I''m a detective, not a baby-sitter!¡± she snapped angrily.


    ¡°I''m not asking you to baby-sit him.¡± he replied tersely. ¡°Just keep him on the level.¡±


    She scowled again, and continued looking out of the window at nothing in particular. She could sense that Frank was starting to get more than a little irritated with her. She bit her lip, and waited.


    ¡°Come on, Jinx.¡± he sighed wearily, leaning forward in his chair. ¡°Think of all your previous partners.¡±


    She glared angrily at him, but said nothing. There were certain events in her past ¨C a certain event ¨C that she would prefer not to be reminded about.


    ¡°They have all...¡± he continued, his voice tailing off under the weight of her glare. He swallowed hard. Serina bit her lip again, and dropped her head to stare at the floor.


    Frank sighed sorrowfully. ¡°Well, most of them...¡±


    ¡°Apart from Louise.¡± Serina responded almost instantly, without looking up.


    Frank nodded slowly. ¡°Yes, well.¡± he continued, his voice tinged with sadness. ¡°Apart from Constable Godwin.¡± He sighed again, and made the sign of the cross. ¡°A sad state of affairs, that.¡± he concluded.


    He slumped back in his chair again, and stared out of the window. Serina''s gaze remained fixed to the patch of floor in front of her feet. After a moment''s silence spent in remembrance of their fallen colleague, she lifted her head and looked at him, forcing a smile to appear unwillingly on her face.


    ¡°But the rest of them...¡± she began, her voice tailing off in an attempt to encourage him to finish the sentence.


    Frank smiled weakly at her, perhaps relieved that she wasn''t too upset with him. ¡°Yes, the others.¡± he replied, his face brightening somewhat. ¡°They''ve all gone on to better things, haven''t they?¡±


    It was the turn of Serina''s face to brighten. It was probably best not to dwell on the past for too long. She nodded and smiled again, more naturally this time. ¡°Bigger, but not necessarily better.¡± she noted. ¡°Right, Frank?¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    He laughed sarcastically for a moment, before leaning forward across his desk towards her, a serious look on his face. ¡°Right.¡± he said soberly. ¡°And that''s all because of you. You brought out the best in them.¡±


    She turned away, almost embarrassed. She couldn''t really take all the credit. She had been fortunate enough to have been partnered with good officers. They''d all have been successful without her input. Well, probably.


    She smiled to herself. She tried to keep her ego in check. Kept reminding herself that she wasn''t a superhero, just a regular detective. But good things tended to happen to everybody who crossed her path. Well, except for Louise... She sighed mournfully. What had happened to Louise was a good corrective. Kept her grounded. Reminded her that she wasn''t infallible.


    She smiled weakly at Frank. She had been close to quitting after Louise''s death. Frank had somehow managed to convince her to stay. In truth, she had been rather glad he did. She wasn''t sure what she would have been if not a detective. It was all she had ever really wanted to do, despite the reality not measuring up to the way it had been portrayed on the television, or to her imagination.


    Frank nodded. It was as if he could read her mind as well as she seemed to be able to read his. ¡°And I want you to do the same with Cahill.¡± he told her.


    ¡°What''s so special about him?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Like I said, he''s a good lad.¡± he sighed. ¡°Just been led astray.¡±


    She frowned. ¡°What do you mean, led astray?¡±


    He sighed again, and returned to staring out of the window. After a few seconds of silence, he turned back to look at her. ¡°You remember Martin?¡± he asked. ¡°Sergeant Lawless?¡±


    She grimaced briefly. Sergeant Martin Lawless. It didn''t seem right to call him that. Not any more. She looked at Frank and nodded to confirm that yes, she remembered the name.


    He smiled wryly. ¡°Turned out he was well-named, didn''t it?¡±


    She glared at him again, but remained silent. There were some things that shouldn''t be joked about. Martin was one of them.


    ¡°Well, Cahill was one of his new lads.¡± he continued hesitantly. He seemed to have belatedly realised his error. ¡°Only been there for a couple of weeks when... well, you know.¡±


    He paused and looked uncertainly at her. She nodded to indicate that she was fully aware of the events he was alluding to. There was no need to go into any of the details. They both knew what the former Sergeant Lawless had done.


    He sighed. ¡°Anyway, the investigation didn''t turn up anything on Cahill.¡± he continued. ¡°So they didn''t charge him like the others. In fact, he was completely...¡±


    He stopped in mid-sentence and frowned. ¡°What''s the word... Exo-something?¡±


    ¡°Exonerated?¡± she suggested.


    ¡°That''s it.¡± he nodded. ¡°Completely exonerated. Along with a couple of the other lads.¡±


    She looked surprised. ¡°So he''s getting a second chance?¡± she asked. ¡°With me?¡±


    He nodded again. ¡°All three of them are getting a ''second chance'', as you put it.¡± he told her. ¡°But Cahill is the only one you need to worry about.¡±


    She frowned. ¡°How do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The other two have been sent away.¡± he replied. He paused, noticing the expression of confusion that had landed on her face. ¡°To other stations, I mean.¡± he smiled. ¡°They were reassigned.¡±


    He looked down, scanning his desk for a specific sheet of paper. Locating it, he held it up and peered at it for a moment. ¡°Hmm... That''s right.¡± he said, waving the sheet of paper in her direction. ¡°One''s gone to Middleford, the other to Eastbury.¡±


    He sighed, and tossed the sheet back on his desk. ¡°But Super Dave has decided that Cahill should stay with us, and that you should look after him.¡± he concluded, before leaning back in his chair and looking hopefully at her.


    Serina smiled. She was well aware that Frank didn''t have the best relationship with Chief Superintendent Pike. ¡°So the Super want me to mentor him?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yes, if you like.¡± he nodded. ¡°Mentor him. Look after him. Bring out the best in him.¡±


    He paused thoughtfully for a moment, then smiled at her. ¡°Like you always do.¡±


    She scowled at him again. She knew he was right. About her bringing out the best in her partners, at least. She wasn''t entirely sure she was cut out to be a mentor to a rookie, though. And there was one other small issue...


    ¡°You know I''ve never had a male partner before.¡± she noted tersely.


    ¡°Well, if it was up to me, I''d put him with Ray.¡± he sighed. ¡°But orders are orders. And Super Dave specifically said that he should go with you.¡±


    ¡°Well, Super Dave knows best.¡± she replied, smiling sarcastically.


    ¡°That he does, Jinx.¡± Frank chuckled. ¡°That he does.¡±


    She nodded slowly. Of course, if the Chief Superintendent had ordered it, then that was what she would do. A further thought suddenly entered her mind. She looked sharply at Frank. ¡°Are you sure he''s clean?¡± she asked, her brow creased in a worried frown.


    He sighed, and reached forward to pick up a couple of the other sheets of paper that were scattered across his desk. He glanced at them, then waved them vaguely in her direction. ¡°It says here that he is. And that''s good enough for me.¡±


    He tossed the papers back onto his desk. ¡°Unless you tell me otherwise.¡± he added, smiling faintly. He then leant back in his chair and regarded her expectantly.


    She nodded uncertainly. It was clear than Frank was not entirely sure Cahill was clean. Usually, this wouldn''t be a problem. She would usually be able to tell pretty quickly if somebody was corrupt, or being duplicitous. Usually...


    But Cahill... There was this nagging thought in the back of her mind, telling her that there was something different about him. Telling her that she wasn''t going to find him easy to read. This presented her with a strange, unfamiliar feeling. Why would she not be able to read Cahill? She could usually read anybody. At least, if she wasn''t drunk or tired. Well, apart from Karla...


    A further thought burrowed unexpectedly into her brain. And Martin... She sighed and scrunched up her face, trying to banish such thoughts and memories.


    Frank frowned at her. ¡°So, what''s your initial impression?¡± he asked.


    She shook her head. ¡°I... don''t know.¡± she replied hesitantly. She almost had to force the words out of her mouth. ¡°I... I can''t read him.¡±


    Frank looked shocked. ¡°What do you mean, you can''t read him?¡± he asked, incredulous.


    She shrugged her shoulders. ¡°I don''t know. He''s just...¡± she began. She paused, trying to work out the best way to explain it. She sighed. ¡°It''s like he doesn''t display any emotions at all.¡±


    This revelation seemed to surprise Frank. ¡°Oh come on Jinx, you''re usually better than that!¡± he told her. ¡°Don''t tell me your powers of intuition are deserting you?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°No, I don''t think so. It''s just...¡± She paused again, and frowned. ¡°For some reason, I can''t read him. Not sure why.¡±


    He frowned at her again. ¡°Are you sure there''s nothing wrong with you?¡± he asked, a worried look on his face.


    She shook her head again. ¡°Maybe it''s because I''ve only just met him?¡± she suggested. ¡°It can sometimes take a while to kick in.¡±


    Noticing the expression on Frank''s face, she grinned at him. ¡°I can still read you pretty well.¡±


    He smiled with relief, and gazed vacantly into the main office.


    ¡°Well, once you get a feel for him, let me know what you think.¡± he told her. ¡°You know, just in case...¡±


    She nodded slowly, and looked suspiciously at him. ¡°When you said he was clean, you didn''t sound entirely convinced.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°Ray thinks Super Dave is acting too hastily.¡± he told her. ¡°I... can sort of see his point.¡±


    She nodded in agreement. Perhaps it was too soon. The events surrounding Martin and his... activities... were still fairly recent.


    Frank leaned forward in his chair, and looked seriously at her. ¡°But what I don''t like is...¡± he added, his voice lowered to an almost conspiratorial whisper. ¡°If they were going to reassign Cahill, why not send him somewhere else?¡±


    Serina nodded again. She had been thinking the same thing.


    Frank shrugged. ¡°Like Pulwich, for instance.¡± he continued. ¡°They could have paired him with Michele. Did they have to bring him back here?¡±


    Serina looked out into the main office. Many of the people there ¨C good people ¨C knew Martin, and were shocked when they learned what he had been doing. Some of them would have been aware of Cahill, as well. Would they be able to accept him, one of Martin''s people, as one of their own?


    Frank gestured towards the main office. ¡°A lot of people here knew Martin, and now they know what he had been doing...¡±


    Serina nodded again. It was as if he was reading her mind. Well, two can play at that game. ¡°They might be suspicious of Cahill.¡± she finished his sentence for him. ¡°They might think that he is also a...¡± She paused and frowned. ¡°What was the term Ray used? ''Bent copper''?¡±


    Frank nodded. ¡°Just because they didn''t find any evidence against him, or the other two...¡± he began.


    At that moment, the door opened, and Cahill walked in carrying a small tray holding three cups of coffee. Frank stopped in mid-sentence and stood up. ¡°Ah, good lad.¡± he smiled.


    Cahill handed one of the cups to Frank. ¡°White. One sugar.¡± he stated. Frank nodded and sat back down.


    Cahill then turned to Serina and handed her a cup. ¡°Black. No sugar.¡± he told her.


    Serina took a sip of coffee. ¡°Perfect.¡± she nodded. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Cahill claimed the final cup, and placed the tray on the corner of Frank''s desk. As he sat down, he took a couple of large swigs from the cup. Curiosity got the better of Serina, and she leaned over to try to discern the contents of his cup.


    Cahill followed her gaze. ¡°Black. No sugar.¡± he nodded. ¡°Like yours.¡±


    She frowned. His voice was going to take some getting used to. It was flat, cold, emotionless. Almost mechanical. Also, that voice in her head had been correct. She was having trouble reading him. This worried her. She found herself hoping that Frank was correct, and Cahill was clean. She sighed, and took another sip of her coffee. Hope?! She preferred rather more certainty in her life.


    They sat in silence for a few moments, drinking their coffees. Frank sat back in his chair, his eyes flicking back and forth between Serina and Cahill. ¡°I''m sure you two will get along just fine.¡± he eventually suggested with a smile.


    Cahill nodded, and drained his cup. Serina looked down at her cup in surprise. There was still nearly half of her coffee left.


    ¡°Wow! Looks like you needed that.¡± she giggled, gesturing towards Cahill''s empty cup.


    He looked down at his empty cup. ¡°I like coffee.¡± he stated flatly.


    Serina sighed, and continued sipping at her own drink. She was still waiting for her powers of intuition to kick into gear, at least as far as Cahill was concerned. Well, she reasoned, as he was going to be her partner for the foreseeable future, she was going to be spending quite a lot of time with him. Sooner or later, she would be able to read him like a book. She just wished she could convince herself of that.


    Her train of thought was suddenly derailed, as Frank drained his cup and tossed it absent-mindedly into the nearby waste-basket. Almost immediately, he sighed with exasperation and looked up a the ceiling. She looked at him, puzzled.


    He groaned as he got up out of his chair and reached into the waste-basket to retrieve the cup. He placed it on top of the tray on the corner of his desk and sat back down with a grunt. ¡°Needs recycling.¡± he said, gesturing towards the cup.


    Cahill suddenly stood up, and placed his cup next to Frank''s. The sudden movement surprised Serina, and she jumped slightly in her seat. She glared at Cahill as she finished the last of her coffee. Once her cup was empty, she stood up and placed it on the tray, next to the other two.


    ¡°Back to work, I suppose.¡± she sighed as she walked over to the door. She opened the door, and beckoned to Cahill. ¡°Come on, then.¡± she ordered him. ¡°Partner.¡±


    He nodded and picked up the tray containing the three empty cups. ¡°I will recycle them.¡± he announced.


    Serina sighed again, then turned and walked out of the office. Cahill nodded at Frank, then followed her.


    Frank watched them leave. As the door swung shut, he slumped back down in his chair and picked up the papers he had earlier waved at Serina. As he examined them again, he sighed.

 Volume 1 Chapter ?: Cahill

    As Serina made her way from Frank''s office towards her own desk, Cahill walked over to the recycling bin that sat next to the drinks vending machine. He dropped the three empty coffee cups into the bin, before placing the tray on the floor next to the vending machine.


    Serina sat down in her chair. Her mobile phone sat on her desk, flashing at her. She picked it up and looked at it. One new text. She smiled. It was from Karla. ¡°Got the contract. Will book table @ EP tomorrow night. Celebration time.¡±


    Cahill arrived, having finished with the recycling. He collected the vacant chair from the desk opposite, and dragged it around to Serina''s desk. He sat down next to her, looking at her expectantly.


    Serina placed her mobile phone back on her desk, and looked at him. ¡°I''m Serina Jackson, by the way.¡± she smiled. ¡°Although as you might have gathered, everybody calls me Jinx.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Marcus Cahill. Everybody just calls me Cahill.¡±


    She looked surprised. ¡°You don''t like the name Marcus?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°I do. It''s a nice name.¡± she told him.


    ¡°It is my father''s name.¡± he replied, his voice tinged with sadness.


    She nodded. It seemed like her powers of intuition were finally kicking in. She had got the distinct impression that he didn''t get on with his father, even before he had spoken. She did not reply immediately. Instead, she waited to see if he was going to elaborate any further.


    He didn''t. He just stared at her blankly for a moment, before frowning slightly. ¡°Why do people call you Jinx?¡± he asked.


    ¡°My middle name is Giacinta.¡± she told him.


    He looked slightly puzzled. ¡°You do not look...¡± he began. He paused, searching for the correct word. ¡°Foreign.¡± he concluded.


    She shook her head. ¡°No, I was born here in Wildbridge.¡± she told him. ¡°My mother just liked the name.¡±


    ¡°It is a nice name.¡± he told her. He frowned slightly. ¡°My middle name is Cyrus. I do not like that either.¡±


    A look of amusement crossed her face. ¡°Cahill it is, then.¡± she replied.


    He nodded. ¡°Fine by me.¡±


    Serina looked around the office. She wasn''t that good at small talk. ¡°So where are you from?¡± she asked him, eventually.


    ¡°Westmere.¡± he replied. ¡°It''s a small town to the north, on the coast.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I know.¡± she nodded, before suddenly starting to giggle. ¡°Don''t they make...¡± she began.


    She paused, and looked around the office. None of her fellow officers seemed to be paying her any attention. ¡°... sex toys there?¡± she finished her question, her voice lowered to a whisper.


    He nodded. ¡°Yes. There is a big factory. Many people work there.¡±


    A faint smile seemed to cross his lips as he spoke. ¡°I did not want to work there.¡± he concluded.


    ¡°So you became a police officer.¡± she nodded. ¡°Good choice.¡±


    Colin suddenly appeared by the side of the desk, clipboard in hand. ¡°Yes, it''s that time again.¡± he announced, thrusting the clipboard towards Serina. It held a form listing the names of all the SCI officers. There was a space next to each name, and several officers had already signed in the space next to their own name.


    Serina smiled at Colin and looked around for her pen. It was lying on her desk, next to her notebook. She picked it up, then took the clipboard from Colin.


    ¡°Right. Where do I sign?¡± she asked, scanning the form for her own name.


    Colin pointed to where Serina''s name was printed on the form.


    ¡°Ah! There it is!¡± she exclaimed, signing in the space next to where her name was printed. She then passed the clipboard to Cahill, who looked at it suspiciously.


    ¡°What is this for?¡± he asked.


    ¡°To let the security people know you want access to the building.¡± she told him. ¡°We''re supposed to inform them when somebody leaves or arrives, but sometimes people forget.¡±


    She gestured towards the clipboard. ¡°So they send one of these around every few months, just to check.¡±


    ¡°Oh, like a kind of census?¡± he ventured.


    She nodded. ¡°Yeah, something like that.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    He nodded and retrieved his pen from his pocket. His eyes scanned down the form, searching out his own name.


    Colin pointed to the hand-written entry at the bottom. ¡°Sorry.¡± he said apologetically. ¡°I didn''t know you would be joining us until this morning.¡±


    Cahill nodded again. He signed his name at the bottom of the form, then handed the clipboard back to Colin.


    ¡°Thanks, guys.¡± Colin smiled. He then departed, heading over towards Ray, intent on getting his signature on the form. Serina watched him thoughtfully for a moment, before suddenly looking at Cahill.


    ¡°That reminds me.¡± she noted. ¡°Did they sort out your reserved parking space? I presume they''ve given you Michele''s space. The one next to mine.¡±


    ¡°I don''t drive.¡± he replied.


    Serina looked surprised. ¡°Oh! How come?¡± she asked.


    Cahill shrugged his shoulders. ¡°I just never got around to learning.¡± he replied.


    ¡°What do you do then, get the tram?¡± she asked, frowning.


    He nodded. ¡°It only takes thirty minutes.¡± he told her.


    Serina nodded, and placed her pen back on her desk. As she opened her mouth to speak, Colin suddenly moved across her eyeline, distracting her. She watched as he headed back to his desk and stood there, looking around the office. She presumed he was looking for anybody who hadn''t already signed the form. After a few moments, he placed the clipboard on his desk and sat down.


    Serina glanced back at Cahill. He was looking intently at the items scattered messily across her desk. There was a loose stack of paper on the near side of the desk, next to the digital desk phone. A second, smaller pile sat untidily in a plastic tray on the far side of the desk. Directly in front of her chair, her notebook was resting on her keyboard. Her pen and her mobile phone lay on the desk between the keyboard and the mouse. Behind her keyboard, her laptop sat in a docking station, its lid closed. Behind that was the workstation screen. It had gone into sleep mode, and was displaying a slide-show of photographs.


    He pointed at the screen. ¡°Who is that?¡± he asked.


    Serina looked at the screen. It was displaying a photograph of her with another woman. Slightly taller, with lighter brown skin, green eyes, and long, curly dark brown hair. They were standing on a balcony somewhere sunny. They had their arms around each other, and they were gently kissing. She smiled nervously. She had been anticipating this conversation. She found herself wondering how he would react, and realised that she was still having difficulty reading him. ¡°My girlfriend, Karla.¡± she replied.


    ¡°Oh. I see.¡± he nodded. He continued watching the slide-show, which was cycling through a series of pictures showing Serina with Karla in a variety of exotic locations.


    She stared at him for a moment. Nothing. No reaction at all. Just a basic acceptance of the facts. What was wrong with him?


    After a few moments, he noticed her stare. ¡°What?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I was expecting you to say something.¡± she replied cautiously. ¡°You know, make some comment or other. On the fact that I''m living with another woman.¡±


    He looked puzzled. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because everybody says something.¡± she replied with a sigh. ¡°Usually.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± he asked again, frowning faintly.


    A look of confusion appeared on her face, and she opened her mouth to speak. Unable to decide what to say, she closed her mouth again, and stared at the slide-show for a few moments. There was her with Karla on the beach, in the hotel, outside the theatre. Then the photograph of them on the balcony reappeared. She hit her keyboard in frustration, and the photograph vanished, replaced by the login screen. Cahill looked at her, a hint of surprise on his face.


    She looked at him apologetically. ¡°Sorry. I''m just not used to people not reacting when they hear about Karla.¡± she said.


    He nodded, apparently understanding. ¡°Because you are gay.¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Bisexual, actually.¡± she smiled. ¡°It''s the same thing to some people, though.¡± she added with a sigh. She glanced over towards Ray, who was busy filing some paperwork.


    Cahill followed her gaze. ¡°Sergeant Walker?¡± he asked.


    ¡°He''s old school. Doesn''t like me. Doesn''t like Colin. Doesn''t like Sebastian.¡± she nodded. ¡°Not sure he likes anybody, really.¡± she added with a sigh.


    He looked at her, a look of slight puzzlement on his face. She frowned. ¡°Maybe Frank, but that''s about it.¡± she concluded.


    She looked at Cahill, noticing the puzzled look on his face. She shook her head. Best not to ask why. Not yet, at least. ¡°Come on. Let''s get started.¡± she told him, as she began tapping at her keyboard, entering the password that unlocked her workstation.


    ¡°You familiar with the SCR database?¡± she asked.


    ¡°The Serious Crimes Register. Yes.¡± he nodded. He paused, thoughtfully, before adding ¡°I think my logon will have been disabled.¡±


    She smiled. He was probably right. They tended to disable people''s logins fairly quickly. She could remember ¨C it wasn''t that long ago, actually ¨C when, if you didn''t login to the SCR on a Friday, your login would have been disabled by the following Monday. ¡°Well, if you ask Chris, I''m sure he will get you set up again.¡± she told him.


    Serina spent the rest of the morning taking Cahill through the intricacies of her job. He listened intently, nodded when it seemed appropriate, and took copious notes. During a coffee break, she took him around the office and introduced him to the other detectives.


    After chatting for a short while with both Colin and Ray, Serina took Cahill over to speak to Chris Bradshaw, the station''s Technical Support Officer. A youngish man, probably in his late twenties, Chris had spotty pale skin that has not seen much sunlight, with shoulder-length brown hair and a matching goatee beard and thin moustache. Unlike most of the other men in the office, who wore smart suits, Chris was dressed in an open-necked pale green shirt beneath a dark brown jumper and corded brown trousers. A pair of square, thick-rimmed spectacles were perched on his nose, completing the image of a traditional geek.


    Once Serina had confirmed with Chris that he would re-enable Cahill''s login to the SCR database, she took Cahill across to the other side of the office, and introduced him to Detective Sergeant Sebastian Smith and Detective Constable Natasha Rogers.


    Sebastian, a heavily-tanned man in his late thirties, with short, tousled blond hair and a neatly-trimmed moustache, was the head of the station''s Sexual Crimes Division. In his pale brown suit, lemon yellow shirt, and plain brown tie, he rather stood out from all the other male detectives, who tended to prefer dark colours.


    Natasha was the Victim Support Officer. She was somewhat younger than Sebastian, perhaps no older than Cahill, with tanned white skin and short, spiky brown hair. Her outfit was not dissimilar to Serina''s, although her black skirt was considerably shorter and the chain around her neck a lot chunkier.


    Once Cahill had been properly introduced to Sebastian and Natasha, along with everybody else in the office, Serina led him out of the office, through the central part of the station, to the canteen, where they sat down and ate their lunch. Sebastian and Natasha joined them, along with a number of their other colleagues.

 Volume 1 Chapter ?: A Missing Person

    When Serina and Cahill returned to the office after lunch, it was still half-empty, as many of the others had not yet returned from their lunch. Serina looked around. Ray was talking to Frank in his office, while Colin was standing by the printer, waiting for some report or other to finish printing off.


    As she led Cahill back to their desks, Colin wandered over, report in hand.


    ¡°Something interesting happened?¡± she asked him, gesturing to the report in his hand.


    Colin shook his head. ¡°No. Just a missing person.¡±


    ¡°A kid?¡± she asked, surprised that nobody had mentioned it over lunch. Usually, when a child was reported missing, word got around the station almost instantly, and every officer made an effort to get involved and help locate ¨C and if necessary, rescue ¨C them.


    Colin shook his head again. ¡°Adult male.¡± he replied, glancing down at the report in his hand. ¡°Postman. Name of Winston Staples.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn''t we be leaving that sort of thing to the uniforms?¡± she asked, frowning.


    ¡°Ray thinks he might be mixed up in something he''s investigating.¡± he replied, sighing. ¡°Don''t know why.¡±


    Serina looked across to Frank''s office. Ray was still in there. He appeared to be getting increasingly animated.


    Colin followed her gaze. ¡°He''s in there now, trying to convince Frank to let him take ownership of the case.¡± he told her. ¡°Doesn''t look like he''s having much success.¡±


    She smiled. Frank was a good detective. Like her, he tended not to break or even bend the rules. He did everything by the book. He had to. The Super would be on him like a ton of bricks if he didn''t. ¡°Oh well, I''m sure that Winston turn up before too long.¡± she murmured.


    Colin nodded, and wandered back to his desk. He sat down, and started to read the report he had just printed off.


    Serina walked over to her desk and sat down. Cahill grabbed the chair from next to her and dragged it round to the desk opposite. He sat down, and immediately begins tapping away at his keyboard.


    ¡°Winston Staples...¡± she muttered to herself. ¡°Sure I''ve heard that name before.¡±


    Cahill looked up from his screen. ¡°No record of anybody with that name in the database.¡± he told her.


    ¡°You''ve checked already?¡± she asked, surprised that he had sprung into action so quickly. He nodded.


    ¡°Chris has sorted your login, then.¡± she smiled. She looked across to Sebastian, who was sitting at his desk near to the double doors leading out into the central part of the station.


    ¡°Sebastian?¡± she shouted. He looked up at the sound of his name. She beckoned him over.


    ¡°I think it might have been one of Sebastian''s cases.¡± she told Cahill. He nodded, and went back to tapping away at his keyboard.


    Sebastian wandered over. ¡°What''s up?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Does the name Winston Staples ring any bells?¡± she inquired. He thought for a moment, before nodding slowly. He looked over to where Natasha was sitting.


    ¡°Tash?¡± he shouted at her. ¡°Winston Staples?¡±


    Natasha nodded, and tapped away at her keyboard for a few seconds. Having found the relevant information, she looked up. Rather than shouting back at him, she wandered over to Serina''s desk.


    ¡°Yep. About six months ago. Domestic. No charges.¡± she reported. ¡°My first case, in fact.¡± she added, smiling at Sebastian.


    Sebastian nodded. ¡°That''s right. I remember now. Big brute of a man. He was accused of abusing his wife and kids.¡±


    Serina''s attention was drawn to movement behind Sebastian. Colin was making his way over. Obviously, he had overheard part of the conversation. He stood quietly behind Sebastian and Natasha, unnoticed by either of them.


    ¡°Yep. The kids go to the nursery by the church. One of the other parents reported their concerns.¡± Natasha continued, with a sigh. ¡°Just being a bit... over-suspicious, I suppose.¡±


    Sebastian frowned at her. ¡°Over-suspicious? Is that even a word?¡±


    She stuck her tongue out at him. He smiled, then turned back to Serina.


    ¡°The wife denied it, of course.¡± he told her. ¡°And as there was no physical evidence...¡±


    Natasha interrupted him. ¡°Well, the kids did have some light bruising...¡±


    ¡°Show me a kid who doesn''t!¡± he laughed.


    Natasha nodded. ¡°Anyway, we couldn''t find anything that would stick, so we dropped it.¡±


    Sebastian shook his head with an air of regret. ¡°Why the interest?¡± he asked Serina.


    She glanced at Colin. ¡°Colin says he''s been reported missing.¡± she replied.


    ¡°His wife says he hasn''t been home since Saturday.¡± Colin noted. Sebastian and Natasha both turned in surprise, neither of them having realised that Colin was standing behind them. ¡°She''s worried sick.¡± he added.


    ¡°I bet she is.¡± Sebastian laughed. ¡°Couldn''t have happened to a nicer chap.¡± he added, darkly.


    Colin shrugged his shoulders, and gestured to the report he was still holding. ¡°Well, in any case, Ray thinks he might be involved with June and her mob.¡± he said.


    ¡°Wouldn''t have thought so.¡± Sebastian replied, shaking his head. ¡°They don''t tend to mix with people like him.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Cahill asked, looking slightly puzzled.


    Serina noted that the others turned in surprise to look at Cahill. It was as if they had forgotten that he was there. She smiled to herself. Cahill had been sitting quietly throughout the conversation until now, barely moving or drawing attention to himself. That particular... talent... might turn out useful, she thought. She found herself wondering if Martin had found it useful, and sighed audibly.


    Sebastian glanced at Serina in surprise, wondering what she was sighing about. He frowned, then looked back at Cahill, clearly suspicious of him.


    ¡°You never met him?¡± he asked, his tone slightly hostile. ¡°Martin never brought him in ''for questioning''?¡±


    Natasha glared at Sebastian and nudged him in the ribs. He looked at her, surprised. She glanced meaningfully at Cahill. In response, Sebastian shook his head and put his finger to his lips. Serina looked at Cahill. He seemed to be oblivious to this wordless dialogue.


    Cahill shook his head. ¡°No, I do not thing so.¡± he replied. ¡°The name is not familiar.¡±


    Sebastian nodded. ¡°Yes, well. You weren''t there long, were you?¡± he sighed. He smiled smugly to himself. ¡°Well, Winston is black. And June''s lot are a bit... right-wing.¡±


    Cahill nodded. ¡°You mean racist.¡± he replied.


    ¡°Yes, I suppose I do.¡± Sebastian sighed.


    At that moment, Ray emerged from Frank''s office. Serina noticed that he looked rather downcast. Colin nodded at her, and walked over to Ray''s desk. As Ray sat down, Colin handed him the report. Ray glanced at the report and shook his head. He conversed briefly with Colin, then dropped the report in a nearby waste-basket. It was clear to Serina that Ray was rather annoyed with something.


    Colin glared at Ray, and fished the report out of the waste-basket. He placed it in the nearby recycling bin with a heavy sigh, then headed back over to Serina''s desk.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Frank says to leave it to the uniforms.¡± he announced, shrugging his shoulders. ¡°We''ll get involved if anything suspicious turns up.¡±


    ¡°Maybe his body will.¡± suggested Natasha, clearly amused by the possibility. ¡°Perhaps his wife''s killed him.¡±


    Sebastian laughed sardonically. ¡°Hope springs eternal, Tash.¡± he told her, before gesturing towards their desks. ¡°Come on, let''s get back to it.¡±


    As Sebastian and Natasha walked back to their desks, Serina stared at them, open-mouthed. She was rather shocked at their reaction. Surely they didn''t really want Winston to turn up dead? Surely it would be better if they found enough evidence to charge him with domestic abuse?


    She glanced at Cahill. He was reading something on his screen. He didn''t seem to have reacted at all. Like usual.


    He looked up at her. ¡°Should we investigate anyway?¡± he asked. ¡°In case he has been murdered by his wife?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± she replied, shaking her head. ¡°We don''t get involved in missing persons cases. Unless it''s a kid.¡±


    ¡°But what if he is dead?¡± he asked.


    She shrugged her shoulders. ¡°Then his body will turn up, and we''ll investigate.¡± she replied.


    He frowned. ¡°Martin always started an investigation in order to find the evidence.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well. He had other reasons for that.¡± she snapped irately.


    ¡°True.¡± he nodded, seemingly unaware of her anger. She scowled, and looked away. Not only did he barely display any emotion, he seemed completely oblivious to the emotions of other people. A new possibility suddenly entered her head, and her anger subsided. Actually, that could be rather useful, she thought to herself.


    A faint smile crossed her lips as she looked back at him. He was still sitting there, motionless, and still staring blankly at her. Her anger returned. ¡°What? You think everybody behaves like Martin?¡± she asked. ¡°You think I do?¡±


    ¡°No. Of course not.¡± he replied, shaking his head.


    She glared at him for a moment, before leaning back in her chair and groaning with frustration. She rubbed her eyes. ¡°Why are you so impossible?¡± she demanded, glaring at him.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he asked, slightly puzzled.


    She sighed, and eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds. ¡°I''m usually good at reading people.¡± she replied, cautiously. ¡°You know, sensing how they are feeling. Whether they are lying or telling the truth, that sort of think.¡±


    He nodded, but said nothing. She shook her head with resignation. She was going to have to get used to him not displaying any emotions.


    ¡°I used to think everybody could do that.¡± she continued. ¡°But it turns out they can''t. It seems I just have a particular talent for it.¡±


    He looked at her blankly, as if waiting patiently for her to continue. She sighed with frustration again. She couldn''t tell if he understood what she was telling him, or if he was confused.


    ¡°You know, sort of like what hypnotists and fortune-tellers do.¡± she continued. ¡°So they can tell you what they think you want to hear. What do they call it, ''cold reading''?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I am familiar with that term.¡± he nodded.


    ¡°But I can''t read you.¡± she concluded, her frustration evident in her voice. ¡°At all. And it''s annoying me.¡±


    He looked despondent. ¡°Oh. Sorry.¡± he replied.


    ¡°Don''t worry, it''s not your fault.¡± she sighed. ¡°At least, I don''t think it is.¡± she added, eyeing him suspiciously.


    They looked at each other in silence for a moment or two. Serina was beginning to wonder if Cahill was doing it on purpose. Was it some kind of prank? Why was she finding him so difficult to read? She maintained eye contact, staring into his eyes, as if trying to burrow down into his soul. Nothing. She was sensing nothing. This didn''t make any sense.


    She kept staring at him. He seemed oblivious to her anguish. He always seemed oblivious. Finally, she broke eye contact, and looked away. He simply turned to look at his screen, and started tapping away at his keyboard.


    ¡°Maybe we should ask Rochelle if she knows what happened to Winston?¡± he suggested after a few moments, still looking at his screen. ¡°Maybe you could tell if she was lying?¡±


    Serina looked at him, puzzled. ¡°Rochelle?¡± she asked. ¡°Who''s Rochelle?¡±


    ¡°His wife.¡± he replied.


    She looked at him suspiciously. ¡°I thought you said there was nothing in the database.¡± she noted.


    He shook his head and gestured towards his screen. ¡°She is on social media.¡± he told her. He turned his screen so that she could see. It was displaying the home page of the user ''RochWill74'' . Most of the page was taken up by a large picture of a couple. He had dark brown skin, darker even than Serina''s, and tightly-cropped black hair. She had lighter brown skin, more of a mocha colour, and long brown hair. They were standing in what looked to be somebody''s back garden. There seemed to be some kind of celebration in progress.


    Serina frowned. ¡°So that''s Winston and Rochelle?¡± she asked.


    Cahill nodded. ¡°I have a home address.¡± he told her. ¡°We could go and visit her.¡±


    ¡°No, the uniforms would get upset.¡± she sighed, shaking her head. She looked across towards Ray, who was sitting despondently at his desk. ¡°And Sergeant Walker would do his nut.¡±


    Cahill looked puzzled. ¡°Do his nut?¡± he asked.


    She looked at him, surprised that he hadn''t heard that term before. ¡°Get angry. Annoyed. Upset that we''ve gone in without his permission.¡± she told him, like she was reciting the definition from a dictionary.


    ¡°Why?¡± he asked, still apparently confused.


    She sighed again. Did she have to explain everything? ¡°Because if this Winston guy is involved with June''s gang, we might affect Ray''s investigation.¡± she replied. She glanced across at Ray again, then attempted to impersonate his manner of speech. ¡°We''ll blow the whole gaff wide open.¡± she said. She could tell the impersonation wasn''t really that good. She started giggling. ¡°And Ray wouldn''t like that.¡± she added, reverting to her normal voice.


    Cahill nodded. ¡°I see.¡± he said, looking back at his screen. ¡°So what do we do, then?¡±


    She glared at him, upset that he didn''t appear to find her impression of Ray at all amusing. ¡°Oh, I don''t know.¡± she replied sarcastically. ¡°Sit around and wait for somebody to get murdered, maybe?¡±


    She continued glaring at him for a moment. As usual, he didn''t react at all. This was beginning to irritate her. She sighed and picked up her notebook. ¡°Before you turned up this morning, I was going through one of the old cases.¡± she said, flicking through her notebook to find the page she was writing on earlier. ¡°Seeing if anything new had turned up.¡±


    He shifted in his seat, positioning his hands above his keyboard, poised to begin typing. ¡°Which one?¡± he asked.


    She glanced up at him, and noted his posture. She shook her head. He pushed his keyboard away from him and rested his hands on his desk, clasping them together as if waiting for her to tell him what to do.


    ¡°Some kid.¡± she replied, consulting her notes. ¡°Name of Nathan Walker.¡±


    Cahill nodded, and glanced at his screen, clearly wanting to dive into the records and learn all about the case.


    Serina smiled to herself, and looked across at Ray. ¡°No relation.¡± she added, with a sigh. ¡°Nathan was accused of rape by his ex-girlfriend.¡±


    Cahill looked at her, his head tilted to one side as if deep in thought. She paused, wondering if he was going to ask a question, but he remained silent.


    She nodded towards Sebastian and Natasha. ¡°Sebastian was in charge of the case. He called me in to interview the pair of them.¡±


    Cahill nodded. ¡°Because of your... talents?¡± he suggested.


    She frowned, and looked down at her chest in confusion. ¡°What does...?¡± she began. Her head suddenly snapped upwards, and a relieved smile crossed her face. She had realised what he meant. ¡°Oh, I see!¡± she said, laughing. ¡°I''m with you now. I thought you were talking about...¡±


    She paused. A look of slight confusion had landed on his face. ¡°Oh never mind...¡± she sighed.


    He nodded, and the look of confusion disappeared from his face as swiftly as it had arrived. He stared blankly at her again.


    ¡°Anyway, all I could get from her was that she was scared.¡± she continued. ¡°Of him. Of me. Of everybody, really.¡±


    She sighed, and stared vacantly up at the ceiling. ¡°To be expected, I suppose.¡± she added. ¡°It felt like she was telling the truth, though. I mean, they definitely had sex...¡±


    She paused. A faint smile crossed her lips as she stared over Cahill''s shoulder. He turned to see what had caught her attention. Natasha was leaning over her desk to look at Sebastian''s screen. Her skirt was so short that her underwear was almost visible. He turned back to look at Serina. After a few moments, her smile faded and she fixed him with a serious expression.


    ¡°Of course, he claimed that it had been completely consensual.¡± she continued, acting as if nothing had happened. ¡°But it was fairly obvious that he was lying. So Sebastian was able to get him charged.¡±


    ¡°Was he convicted?¡± he asked.


    She shook her head. ¡°The girlfriend killed herself.¡± she replied despondently. ¡°His lawyer got the charge dropped.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Because it was her word against his.¡± she replied, the exasperation clear in her voice.


    ¡°But... if you knew he was guilty...¡± he suggested, apparently stunned that they couldn''t get the charge through.


    ¡°Doesn''t matter.¡± she replied, shaking her head. ¡°Without her to give evidence, there wasn''t much of a case against him.¡±


    He frowned. ¡°Martin would have...¡± he began.


    She interrupted him. ¡°I don''t care what Martin would have done!¡± she snapped angrily.


    His expression changed. This surprised and, if she was completely honest, relieved her. He seemed almost taken aback by the harsh tone of her voice. She looked around the office, almost embarrassed to have spoken to him in that manner. Nobody else had reacted. Perhaps they hadn''t heard.


    She leaned forward, trying not to glare at him. ¡°Don''t mention that name in here!¡± she hissed, her voice barely louder than a whisper.


    ¡°Why not?¡± he asked, puzzled.


    ¡°Because people might get upset.¡± she replied testily.


    ¡°Oh, I see.¡± he nodded. ¡°Because of...¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡± she replied, cutting him off in mid-sentence.


    He nodded slowly at her. She glared at him for a moment, then resumed her perusal of her notebook.


    ¡°I suppose I could take you through some of the old cases.¡± she suggested with a sigh. ¡°You know. Show you how things are done properly around here.¡± she added, pointedly.


    He nodded again.


    They spent the rest of the afternoon going through some of Serina''s old cases. They started by looking at the case notes that Serina had made, before moving on to those case files that were stored in the filing cabinets. Over time, both of their desks became cluttered with paperwork from those files.


    For many of the cases, Serina let Cahill access the information on the SCR database, as she felt that it would help him get used to how the database was structured, how the information was stored, and how it was used.


    They discussed a few of the old cases with Sebastian, or Ray, or Colin, or one of the other officers who just happened to pass by their desks. It was clear to most that the entire session was just an exercise in bringing Cahill up to speed with what was going on in the department.


    Eventually, it began to get dark, and people started to pack up and go home.

 Volume 1 Chapter ?: Rays Offer

    Serina closed her notebook, and put it down on her desk. It was starting to get dark. She leaned back and stretched, letting out an exhausted groan. She then glanced at the clock on the wall. It showed that the time was five minutes past five.


    ¡°That''ll do for today.¡± she announced.


    Cahill looked at the clock and nodded. Serina watched on as he gathered together all the loose papers that have been strewn across their desks during the course of the afternoon. He placed them meticulously back into their respective case files, then returned the files to their correct places in the filing cabinets.


    Finally, Cahill picked up his notebook and pen, along with the few sheets of hand-scrawled notes and diagrams that they had made, and filed them neatly in the top drawer of his desk.


    A faint smile crossed Serina''s lips. She found Cahill''s dedication to tidiness somewhat amusing. ¡°Like to keep everything nice and tidy, I see.¡± she commented.


    He nodded. ¡°So I know where everything is.¡±


    She looked down at her own desk and sighed. It was a mess compared to his. Especially compared to his. She picked up her notebook and pen, placing them in the top drawer of her desk. She then turned her attention to the loose stack of paper by the desk phone. She pushed the sheets together, attempting to make the stack a little neater. Once she was satisfied that it was as neat as it could be, she started to do the same to the smaller stack in the plastic tray on the other side of the desk.


    As she pushed the sheets of paper together, her eyes alighted on the top-most sheet, and a surprised expression appeared on her face. She picked up the sheet. ¡°Well, that''s not much use now.¡± she said, folding it in half with a sigh. She walked nonchalantly over to the recycling bin and dropped the sheet in it. As she returned to her desk, Cahill looked at her questioningly.


    ¡°Application form.¡± she told him. ¡°For the local gym. Michele was going to join.¡±


    ¡°Michele?¡± he asked.


    ¡°My previous partner.¡± she nodded. ¡°She left on Friday. Gone down to Pulwich, to join the CTU there.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I see.¡± he replied. He tapped away at his keyboard, shutting down his workstation. Once it had switched off, he lifted the laptop out of the docking station, and placed it in the bottom drawer of his desk. Serina watched with curiosity as he locked the drawer and deposited the key in his shirt pocket, before heading over to the coat stand to collect his jacket.


    As he walked back to his desk, she shut down her own workstation, placing her laptop in her bag. He frowned at her as he put on his jacket.


    She smiled ruefully at him. ¡°I know. Bad habit, taking your work home with you.¡±


    He reached into the pocket of his jacket and retrieved his mobile phone. He showed it to her. ¡°I normally use this.¡± he told her.


    Serina giggled as she compared the size of his phone to her own. His was considerably larger. ¡°Show off!¡± she replied, sarcastically.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    She headed over to the coat stand and retrieved her coat. As she returned to her desk, Ray wandered over. ¡°Put it away, lad.¡± he nodded at Cahill, who was still holding his phone out. ¡°I don''t want to know that yours is bigger than everybody else''s.¡±


    ¡°Feeling a bit self-conscious, Ray?¡± Serina asked, smirking.


    ¡°No, not at all.¡± he replied with a chuckle. ¡°Size isn''t everything, lass.¡±


    Serina smiled, and looked at Cahill. He didn''t react. He simply put his phone back into his pocket and waited. She began to wonder if he had a sense of humour.


    She looked back at Ray. He was looking suspiciously at Cahill. Perhaps he was also wondering about Cahill''s lack of reaction?


    Ray sighed mournfully and tilted his head in Serina''s direction. ¡°Not that she''d know about that.¡± he added, apparently addressing Cahill. Cahill nodded, but didn''t say anything in reply.


    Serina rolled her eyes and sighed with exasperation. She glared at Ray. ¡°Did you want something?¡± she asked. She knew he wasn''t overly fond of her, and didn''t much like interacting with her. She presumed he just didn''t approve of her relationship with Karla.


    Ray shook his head. Serina frowned. She could tell that he was disappointed with something. Had he come over specifically to be rude to her? Or to try to get a reaction out of Cahill?


    ¡°No, not really.¡± Ray replied, sighing mournfully. ¡°It''s just that Colin mentioned you were interested in that missing bloke.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right.¡± she sighed, suddenly realising the reason behind Ray''s visit. ¡°You mean Winston Staples?¡±


    Ray nodded. ¡°That''s the chappie.¡± he replied.


    Serina glanced at Cahill, silently willing him not to say anything. He just stood there, motionless. And emotionless, she thought to herself.


    She looked back at Ray. ¡°Colin said you thought he might be involved with the Savage clan.¡± she noted.


    Ray scratched his chin thoughtfully. ¡°No, not involved.¡± he replied. ¡°Not as such. He''s the wrong colour.¡±


    Serina glanced at Cahill again. ¡°That''s what we thought.¡± she nodded. Cahill just looked impassively at her. She scowled at him.


    Ray sighed. ¡°He just works at the postal depot off Florentine Road, that''s all.¡± he continued. ¡°We know that June has had some goods come in through there in the past.¡±


    Serina looked at him, surprised. ¡°And you think somebody there is on her payroll?¡± she asked.


    He nodded. ¡°Got to be.¡± he replied. ¡°But not this Winston bloke.¡±


    Serina nodded. She didn''t really know that much about June and her organisation. Just what she had heard from other people. Certainly not enough to form her own opinion on the likelihood of Winston being part of it. If Ray and Sebastian said it was unlikely, that was good enough for her. She didn''t really want to get involved in the investigations. Partly because she didn''t like to tread on Ray''s toes too much. But also because of what had happened to Staffi...


    Ray sighed, and glanced at Cahill again. ¡°I don''t suppose you''d know anything about that...?¡± he asked, more in hope than expectation.


    Cahill shook his head.


    Ray sighed again. ¡°No, I didn''t think so.¡± he said. He turned to Serina. ¡°Anyway, if you want to go and speak to his wife, you can.¡± he told her. ¡°You know, check she hasn''t killed him and buried him under the patio, or whatever it is people do.¡±


    Serina smiled. ¡°Okay. I''ll keep that in mind.¡± she replied.


    Ray nodded. ¡°Just don''t go near the postal depot.¡± he warned her. He turned and headed back to his desk.


    Serina continued smiling at him. ¡°Thanks, Ray. We''ll let you know if we find anything.¡± she said.


    Ray waved his hand in the air in acknowledgement as he walked away. Serina sighed and looked around the office. Several of the other officers had already left, and the ones who were still present were in the process of leaving. Cahill was still standing beside his desk. He didn''t appear to have moved at all since Ray wandered over.


    ¡°Right, I''m out of here.¡± Serina announced, to nobody in particular. ¡°Goodnight everybody. See you tomorrow.¡±


    She placed her bag over her shoulder, and walked out of the office with her coat slung over her other arm. A few seconds later, Cahill followed her.

 Volume 1 Chapter ?: Beef Ragout

    Serina entered her apartment, closing the door behind her. She dropped her bag on the floor behind the door, and hung her coat up on one of the hooks on the wall. She kicked her shoes off, before picking them up and placing them in the shoe rack that lay beneath the line of coat hooks. Picking up her bag again, she headed through the doorway into her well-appointed lounge.


    She looked around. She couldn''t see Karla, but she could hear her moving about in the kitchen to the rear. ¡°Hi, honey! I''m home!¡± she shouted wearily. There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She giggled to herself.


    ¡°I''m in the kitchen!¡± came the reply.


    Serina placed her bag on the sofa, and walked towards the doorway leading into the kitchen. She felt slightly nervous. She was worried how Karla would react to her news.


    Karla suddenly appeared through the bead curtain that covered the doorway into the kitchen. Serina stepped back in surprise. Karla smiled, and stepped forward to embrace her. She returned the embrace, and planted a light kiss on Karla''s lips.


    Gently, Karla pulled away from the embrace, still holding Serina''s hands, and looked at her critically. ¡°So, how has your day been?¡± she asked.


    Serina sighed, and averted her gaze. She looked around the room ¨C anywhere to avoid making eye contact with Karla. ¡°Not bad, I suppose.¡± she replied, hesitantly.


    Karla frowned, and shook Serina''s arms in an attempt to get her to make eye contact. Serina guessed that Karla would be slightly worried by her evasive behaviour. She briefly relented, glancing at Karla with a faint smile on her lips, to try and reassure her. She then turned away and stared at the wall. ¡°No new murders to investigate.¡± she said glumly.


    Karla smiled and briefly embraced Serina again, rubbing her hands up and down Serina''s back. ¡°You sound almost disappointed.¡± she said, her amusement dancing across her words. Serina guessed that Karla was concerned something was wrong, and was trying to comfort her. She shook her head and carefully extricated herself from Karla''s embrace. Karla stepped backwards towards the kitchen, a look of surprise on her face.


    Serina glanced towards Karla again, the faint smile still stuck on her lips. She was still trying to avoid making proper eye contact. Karla stuck her tongue out at her in frustration. ¡°So how''s life without Michele?¡± she asked. ¡°Getting lonely in the office?¡±


    Serina laughed hollowly, while continuing to look around the room. ¡°No, no. Not at all.¡± she said, shaking her head nervously. At that moment, she felt really uncomfortable. She wasn''t sure she really wanted to tell Karla about Cahill. She knew that Karla wasn''t overly fond of men, and was worried that she might react badly to the news. But she knew that if she didn''t tell her, Karla would start to get suspicious. And possibly a little jealous, she thought, smiling to herself.


    Karla looked surprised. ¡°What? They found you a new partner already?¡± she asked.


    Serina finally found the courage to look Karla straight in the eyes. She nodded hesitantly. Karla giggled expectantly. ¡°Ooh! A new girl for me to meet?¡± she asked.


    Serina shook her head. ¡°No, a man.¡± she replied.


    Karla raised her eyebrows and took a step backwards. ¡°A man?¡± she echoed. Her surprise was clear in her voice, as was her disappointment.


    Serina nodded nervously. ¡°Yes. And a rookie as well.¡± she sighed. ¡°Well, not quite a rookie, I suppose. He started a month or so ago. He was part of Martin''s team. Before... well, you know.¡±


    Karla''s mouth dropped open with shock. Serina looked at her nervously, still uncertain. She had expected Karla to be more upset than she appeared to be. Either because her new partner was a man, or because he had been mixed up with Martin and his... activities.


    Karla''s mouth snapped shut and the two women stood in silence for a moment, just staring at one another. Eventually, Karla breached the impasse. ¡°So, what''s his name?¡± she asked, frowning.


    Serina almost jumped in surprise at the silence being broken. She took a moment to steel herself before replying. ¡°Um... Cahill.¡± she said, hesitantly. ¡°Well, Marcus Cahill. But he prefers Cahill.¡±


    As Karla stepped forward and grabbed Serina''s hands again, a concerned expression appeared on her face. Serina looked at her nervously. Was she upset and just hiding it? At moments like this, her inability to read Karla properly really annoyed her. She sighed. Karla frowned at her.


    Suddenly, Karla started giggling, and playfully swung Serina''s arms around. Serina stared at her, puzzled. What had just happened?


    ¡°What? You thought I''d get upset because your new partner is a man?¡± Karla asked, still giggling playfully.


    Serina sighed with relief, and looked down at the floor. ¡°Well... I wasn''t sure.¡± she replied. ¡°You know how I have trouble reading you.¡±


    Karla smiled warmly. ¡°That''s because you love me.¡± she replied, before embracing Serina again. ¡°And I love you too.¡± she concluded, kissing Serina passionately on the lips.


    Serina wrapped her arms around Karla''s shoulders. ¡°So... You don''t mind?¡± she asked.


    Karla looked at her sternly, and shook her head. ¡°Not as long as you two keep it purely professional.¡± she replied.


    Serina giggled, the relief washing over her body like a refreshing breeze on a hot day. She slid her hands down from Karla''s shoulders to her waist. ¡°Oh, don''t you worry about Cahill.¡± she said. She pulled Karla in tightly. ¡°He''s far too young for me.¡± she added playfully.


    Karla removed her hands from Serina''s waist and pushed her away in mock anger. ¡°What? Are you saying I''m old?¡± she asked.


    Serina shook her head and grabbed Karla''s arm, pulling her back into an embrace with a smile. ¡°No, you''re not old. You''re just right.¡± she replied.


    They kissed once more, then Karla delicately extricated herself from the embrace. She looked at Serina, curious. ¡°So... What''s he like?¡± she asked.


    Serina shrugged her shoulders.¡°Oh, mid-twenties, I guess.¡± she replied non-committally. ¡°White, blonde, blue eyes. That sort of thing.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Karla screwed up her face. Serina knew she wouldn''t be interested in what Cahill looked like physically. She smiled to herself, and continued undeterred. ¡°Pretty handsome, I suppose.¡± she sighed. She glanced playfully at Karla. ¡°If you like that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Come on, you know I didn''t mean that.¡± Karla exclaimed with exasperation. ¡°What''s he really like?¡±


    A new wave of uncertainly coursed through Serina''s body. What if her powers of intuition were actually failing? She knew she was a good detective, but her success had been mainly based on her ability to read people, to sense their emotions and whether they were lying. If she couldn''t do that any more, would she still be a good detective? ¡°I... don''t know.¡± she replied, shaking her head. ¡°I can''t read him.¡±


    Karla looked incredulous. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± she asked. ¡°You always know!¡±


    Serina looked annoyed with herself. ¡°Oh, I don''t know!¡± she sighed. ¡°He just doesn''t seem to have any emotions at all.¡±


    Karla looked at her, worried. Serina returned her gaze, and they stared at each other silently for a few seconds. Eventually, Serina sighed again. ¡°Or, at least, he doesn''t show them.¡± she added.


    Karla frowned. ¡°Come on babe, you''re better than that!¡± she exclaimed with annoyance. ¡°Don''t tell me your powers of intuition have stopped working?¡±


    Serina shook her head. ¡°No, I don''t think so.¡± she replied, attempting to sound reassuring. ¡°I just can''t read him, for some reason. Not sure why. Maybe because I''ve only just met him today?¡±


    Karla smiled playfully. ¡°Or maybe you do fancy him...¡± she suggested.


    Serina shook her head and sighed. ¡°No.¡± she replied insistently. ¡°There''s just something odd about him.¡±


    Karla frowned. ¡°Odd? What do you mean?¡± she asked, puzzled.


    ¡°Oh, I don''t know!¡± Serina exclaimed. She looked around the lounge, having suddenly remembered something. ¡°You know that photo from Walmingford?¡± she asked. ¡°The one of us on the hotel balcony? When I...¡±


    Her voice tailed off, and she looked at Karla uncertainly. They had promised not to mention... that... ever again. Karla pulled a face and nodded. ¡°Yes, I know the one you mean.¡±


    Serina frowned. She was suddenly conscious of the fact that there weren''t any photographs of them on display in their apartment. ¡°It''s a nice photo.¡± she continued, absent-mindedly. ¡°We should print it off and put it up on the wall or something.¡±


    Karla glared at her. Although she had never been able to read her than well, Serina was aware that Karla was becoming increasingly annoyed with her continued evasiveness. She smiled to herself. Wasn''t it ironic that she, as a detective, was avoiding giving straight answers to Karla''s questions?


    Wanting to avoid pushing Karla to explode with anger, Serina sighed and looked her squarely in the eye. Perhaps she had better start giving proper answers. ¡°It''s on my computer.¡± she said. ¡°It came up in the screen-saver. Cahill saw it, and asked who you were. So I told him. And he didn''t react.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± Karla asked, frowning.


    Serina shrugged her shoulders. ¡°It''s just a bit strange.¡± she replied. ¡°I mean, everybody else has reacted in some way. Whether they have been surprised, angry, disappointed, disgusted, offended, or something else.¡±


    ¡°But not him?¡± Karla asked.


    ¡°No, not Cahill.¡± Serina sighed. ¡°He just went ''Oh. I see.'' And that was it.¡±


    Serina looked hopefully at Karla, wondering if she had understood. Had she explained herself clearly enough?


    Karla looked at Serina thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. ¡°You''re right. That is strange.¡± she replied with a smile. ¡°You''ll have to introduce us at some point.¡±


    ¡°And his voice.¡± Serina added. ¡°It''s so weird. Almost mechanical.¡±


    ¡°Well, I''m sure you''ll get to know him.¡± Karla replied, as she turned to head back into the kitchen. She suddenly stopped, and looked back over her shoulder at Serina, a cheeky grin on her face. ¡°Professionally, I mean.¡± she added, as she stepped through the bead curtain into the kitchen.


    A moment later, Serina followed her, sniffing the air. ¡°Ooh, something smells good.¡± she remarked, looking around.


    Karla was standing with her back to Serina, checking that the pots on the stove weren''t boiling dry. ¡°Beef Ragout.¡± she announced, without turning around. ¡°With rice.¡±


    Serina walked over and placed her arms around Karla''s waist. This made Karla jump slightly, and she emitted a brief squeal.


    ¡°Smells delicious.¡± Serina said, kissing the back of Karla''s neck.


    Karla slapped Serina''s hands in a vain attempt to make to let go. ¡°Get off me!¡± she exclaimed in mock indignation.


    Serina continued undeterred. ¡°So what''s this about a contract and a celebration?¡±


    Karla turned around, and threw her arms around Serina''s shoulders. ¡°The new housing development by the cinema.¡± she replied, smiling happily.


    Serina frowned. There were a number of developments in that area of town. She wasn''t entirely certain which one Karla was referring to.


    ¡°You know, the bit of wasteland next to the river.¡± Karla added, sensing Serina''s confusion.


    A look of realisation crossed Serina''s face. ¡°Oh! By the main road.¡± she exclaimed. ¡°Where the path goes under the bridge.¡±


    Karla nodded. ¡°That''s it.¡± she replied. ¡°They''re going to move the road north, crossing the river by the footbridge. And there''s going to be a new housing estate around where the old culvert is at the moment.¡±


    Serina squealed with excitement. ¡°You''re going to design the houses?¡±


    Karla nodded and smiled. Serina squealed again, this time with delight. She hugged Karla, planting another kiss on her lips.


    Karla pushed Serina away in mock indignation. ¡°Now go away and let me finish cooking.¡± she snapped, turning her attention back to the pots on the stove. ¡°We can celebrate properly tomorrow night. I''ve booked a table.¡±


    Serina stepped back, and put her hand in her skirt pocket, searching for her phone, before remembering that she had left it in her bag in the lounge. ¡°You said you would.¡± she nodded. ¡°Where was it again?¡±


    ¡°Eastern Promise.¡± Karla replied. ¡°The new place on the High Street.¡±


    ¡°Not sure I know that one.¡± Serina frowned.


    Karla shook her head. ¡°It''s only been open a week or so. Where the old gym was.¡± she replied, twisting her head to look at Serina. ¡°You know. The old guy''s place. The one who died.¡±


    Serina nodded with realisation. ¡°Oh, there!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°I didn''t know they were turning it into a restaurant!¡±


    ¡°Yes. A posh one, too.¡± Karla replied with a nod. She looked back at the pots on the stove. ¡°Well, posher than that place on the edge of town.¡± she added, stirring one of the pots with a wooden spoon.


    ¡°The Wolf and Dog?¡± Serina frowned. ¡°It''s not too bad there now. Better than it used to be. New management.¡±


    ¡°Wasn''t there trouble there almost every weekend?¡± Karla asked.


    ¡°That was when it was the Brown Bear.¡± Serina replied, shaking her head. ¡°We got it shut down. Eventually.¡±


    Karla turned to look at Serina again. ¡°That''s right. I remember now. A couple of guys got glassed.¡± she said, waving the wooden spoon at Serina. ¡°Didn''t you get called out there?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Serina replied, nodding. ¡°One of them got beaten up so badly they thought he was going to die.¡±


    Karla nodded, and returned to stirring the pots with the spoon.


    ¡°That was the last straw, basically.¡± Serina continued. ¡°Frank wrote to the Council, and they shut the place down.¡±


    Karla stopped stirring the pots, and looked up at the ceiling. ¡°Hmm... Wasn''t there some great hoo-ha about the place being shut down?¡± she asked.


    Serina nodded. ¡°Yes.¡± she replied. ¡°People were worried that it might lead to trouble in other parts of town.¡±


    Karla turned to look at Serina again. ¡°That was it.¡± she noted. ¡±Seemed like people were happy for drunks to cause trouble over there, but not in the middle of town when they were out enjoying a nice meal.¡±


    Serina laughed briefly. ¡°Anyway, the place was bought by some new people a couple of months ago.¡± she continued. ¡°From abroad, I think. Anyway, they''ve apparently tarted the place up a bit, changed the name, you know, that kind of thing.¡±


    Karla laughed sarcastically. ¡°Trying to attract a different class of patron?¡± she asked, turning back to the pots on the stove. ¡°Good luck with that.¡±


    Serina smiled. ¡°Oh, I don''t know. Seems to be doing quite decent business nowadays, from what I hear.¡± she replied. ¡°Not that I''ve been there since it re-opened.¡±


    Karla looked at her, surprised. The oven suddenly started beeping. ¡°Sounds like dinner''s nearly ready.¡± she remarked.


    Serina looked across at the small dining table on the far side of the room. ¡°Suppose I''d better lay the table, then.¡± she sighed.


    She opened the drawer next to the sink, and retrieved some cutlery and a couple of place-mats. ¡°Plates?¡± she asked, looking across at Karla, who had just finished donning the oven gloves.


    ¡°In the oven.¡± Karla replied. She opened the oven door and took out a small casserole dish full of beef stew, followed by two plates.


    Serina nodded, and walked over to the dining table. As Karla spooned the stew on to the plates, along with the rice and vegetables from the pots on the stove, Serina laid the table. Once dinner was served, they sat down together at the table, and ate.