"What do you want to do about dinner?"
She sighed, shooting him a dark look which took him aback.
"Just a question. I didn't know if you had plans already. I'll make a start on it while you're out, if you like."
Alice set aside the comb, frowning at herself in the mirror before turning to him. She stepped across and took both lapels of his blazer in hand, pulling him towards her. She kissed him again, on her tiptoes, only this time with more determination. Pivoting back onto her heels, she smiled.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. You're right. It's been a rough day and… I don't know," she said, frowning. "It feels like I've been treading water and I'm tired, you know."
"Not a problem. What do you fancy for dinner or should I surprise you?"
"Not after last time, no," she said, patting his chest with the palms of her hands before moving to the wardrobe and selecting her clothes.
"Hey, that was a perfectly good execution of the recipe."
"A perfectly good execution of a terrible recipe," Alice corrected him.
Tom held his hands up in supplication.
"I'll accept that. This time I'll stick to tried and tested. How's that?"
"In that case, you should crack on," Alice said, producing a flowery dress on a hanger from the wardrobe. Holding it up in front of her, she looked in the full-length mirror. "Do you think I can pull this off?"
Tom came to stand behind her, looping his arms around her waist. She smiled.
"I think it will look great."
"It didn't fit me very well last summer."
"Dry cleaners must have shrunk it," Tom said, leaning in and kissing her neck.
The stubble on his cheek must have tickled her because she put her head down towards her shoulder to force him away.
"You know very well, Detective Inspector Janssen," she said, turning to face him and putting the dress between them, "that I don't use the dry cleaners."
He pulled her closer to him and she didn't resist.
"This weird weather we've been having must have shrunk it then."
"In the wardrobe?"
"Strange things happen here in Norfolk, you know?" he said playfully. "I'm a detective. I investigate such things. How late are you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Too late for that," she said pushing him back. He released his grip.
"You can't blame a guy for trying."
"Seriously, do you think this is okay? You know what my mother's like."
"You're slimmer than she is."
"That doesn't stop her pointing out my flaws."
Tom understood Alice's dilemma. The woman wasn't mean spirited, at least not intentionally. Alice's mother was a decent person, very supportive and helpful when it came to Saffy. However, she suffered from a distinct lack of self-awareness. The odd remark that might be judged nonchalant or made in passing could, in reality, cut deep. If she intended to be hurtful, then she would be a nasty piece of work. Remarks made unintentionally, however, could be dismissed as unfortunate or misguided, although, in Tom's mind, it was sometimes difficult to distinguish between the two when it came to Alice's mother. It was an occurrence that seemed to happen with alarming regularity. He decided that discretion was the better part of valour in this conversation.
"I'll get dinner started," he said.
"So, I'm on my own with this one?"
Russell appeared in the doorway, his head cocked to one side. He must have heard the discussion around dinner. Tom glanced at him and he barked, indicating urgency.
"I think someone might need to go out," Tom said, stepping away from Alice. "I'll see you downstairs."
He took a step towards the door and the dog perked up, excitedly shifting his weight between his paws and tentatively bouncing towards the stairs, but reluctant to head off unless sure Tom was following. Once out on the landing, Russell charged down the stairs, almost losing his footing, the barking growing in intensity. He definitely needed to go outside.
Tom hurried to the back door, turning the key and letting the dog out. He was pawing at the door as Tom opened it, almost hitting the animal in the head as he pulled the door open. Tom shook his head as Russell disappeared into the undergrowth of the garden. The thought occurred that he might return with a baby rabbit in his mouth, or worse, like the last time, a dead rat.
Tom's mobile vibrated on the table and he pushed the door to, leaving it ajar for when Russell returned, thereby avoiding the scratching at the door and any further damage to the wood. It was a bit late, though. Picking up the phone, he saw it was DC Eric Collet.
"Eric, what's up?" he said, glancing at the time. He'd only clocked off less than an hour ago.
"Hi, Tom. That suspicious death over at Blakeney uniform wanted us to take a look at?"
The wind was battering Eric, who was raising his voice to compensate. Gulls called out to one another in the background.
"Yes, what about it?"
"I think you're going to want to have a look yourself."
Tom sighed, turning just as Alice entered the kitchen, a pair of strappy shoes in her hands. The disappointed look on her face must be mirroring his own.
"Okay. Where are you?"
"Blakeney Point."
Tom glanced at the clock again. "I'll be with you as soon as I can."
He hung up, taking a deep breath and turning to Alice, who stood with her lips pursed.
"Duty calls?"
He nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry."
She raised her eyebrows and sighed.
"I'll knock up a quick pasta sauce before I go, if you like?"
"No, there's no need. I'll heat up some leftovers from the fridge. It'll be fine," she said.
He couldn't help thinking the reality was somewhat different.
"I'll call you later. Let you know what's going on."
"Okay," she said, folding her arms across her midriff.
He scooped up his keys and wallet. The dog re-entered the kitchen behind him, thankfully without a carcass in his mouth. He stopped, eyeing the two of them inquisitively. Alice stepped to one side to allow him to
