was Cameron. He looked over my shoulder and nodded toward Lynne.
“Good morning, Miss Blake,” he said.
“Oh, please call me Nadia, Detective,” I said. “We’re very informal here.”
“Nadia,” he said in a sort of feeble mumble. “I’ve stopped in to relieve Lynne for a couple of hours.”
“Fine,” I said, trying to sound bright and casual.
“And make some plan for the day,” he continued. “I don’t know if you’ve got any arrangements.”
“Yes,” I said. “At half past four me and Zach have to be at a children’s party in Muswell Hill. And there are two more on the weekend. Maybe more if anybody else rings up.”
“That’s no problem,” said Cameron. “Lynne can accompany you to those.”
“It might be a bit obtrusive,” I said.
“I’ll sit outside,” Lynne said. “I can give you a lift.”
“Better and better.”
Lynne still had a half-full cup of coffee and half a croissant.
“There’s no hurry,” said Cameron, unnecessarily.
It turned out that there really wasn’t any hurry. Lynne sipped her coffee slowly and only toyed with her croissant. She was in the process of buying a flat herself and she started to ask about what it had been like buying mine. Had I sold a flat of my own before buying this one? It was quite a long story and the shorter I tried to make it, the longer it got. Meanwhile Stadler walked around the room scrutinizing it in some supposedly expert and dispassionate way, picking up objects, opening drawers. I couldn’t help feeling that he was looking at me as he did it, finding out more things I wanted to keep to myself. Finally we exhausted the subject of flat-buying. Lynne turned to Cameron.
“Nadia has certain concerns about our plans.”
“Basically, I don’t know what they are,” I said.
“I’ll discuss it with her,” said Cameron dismissively, and turned away, not continuing the conversation.
She continued holding her coffee. Hadn’t this woman had enough of me? Didn’t she have a job to do?
“So I’ll see you back here about one?” said Cameron.
“Are you going out?” she asked.
“Whatever we do, we’ll be here at one.”
She nodded.
“Fine. See you later, Nadia.”
“See you, Lynne.”
She was out of the door. I saw her legs going up the steps outside and reaching the pavement. The legs walked away. Safe. I turned toward Cameron.
“About yesterday…”
And he was on me, holding me as if I was unbearably precious, his hands touching my face, stroking my hair. I pushed him away slightly and looked him in the eyes.
“I…” I stammered. “I’m not…”
“I can’t…” he murmured, and kissed me again.
I felt his hands behind me now, on my back, then under my T-shirt, feeling for my bra, discovering there wasn’t one.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“I don’t know. No.”
He took my hand and led me into my bedroom. It was different from the day before: more relaxed, more deliberate, slower. I sat down on the bed. He walked to the window and pulled the blind down. Then he closed the bedroom door. He removed his jacket, loosened his tie, and took that off too. It occurred to me that sex with a man who needed to remove a suit and tie was almost a unique experience.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said, as if it were a symptom. “I see you when I close my eyes. What shall we do?”
“Take your clothes off,” I said.
“What?” He looked down, almost as if it were a surprise to see he was still dressed.
He took his clothes off as if in a dream, tossing his trousers into a heap on a chair, looking at me all the time. I reached out my arms toward him.
“Wait,” he said. “Wait. Let me. Nadia.”
I lay in a fog of pleasure, and then at last he was inside me and later, when it was over and we lay there entwined, he was still looking at me, stroking my hair, saying my name as if it were some kind of magic spell. After a time we moved away from each other and I propped myself up on a pillow.
“That was lovely,” I said.
“Nadia,” he said. “Nadia.”
“And I feel confused,” I said.
A spell had been broken. He moved back slightly; a shadow crossed his face; he bit his lip.
“Can I be honest with you?” he said.
Suddenly I felt like shivering.
“Please,” I said.
“This job is my whole life,” he said. “And this…”
“You mean
He nodded.
“It’s so not allowed,” he said. “It is so fucking not allowed.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” I said. “Is that it?”
“No,” he said bleakly.
“What is it?” I asked. He didn’t reply. “Fucking what is it?”
“I’m married,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”
And he started crying. I was lying there with a naked detective crying in my bed. About eighteen hours of the relationship and we’d already moved from first lust to the weeping and recrimination. I felt sour inside. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t pat him and stroke him and say that everything was all right, there, there. Finally he gave a huge sigh, as a sign that he was pulling himself together.
“Nadia?”
“Yes?”
“Say something.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Are you furious with me?”
“Oh, Cameron,” I said. “Just fucked off. And I suppose your wife doesn’t understand you.”
“No, no, I don’t know. I just know I want you. I’m not messing you around, Nadia, I promise you that. I want you so much. It means so much to me I don’t know what to do. Is that all right? What do you think? Nadia, tell me what you think.”
I swung round and looked at my frog-shaped clock on the bedside table. Then I leaned over and kissed Cameron’s chest.
“What do I think? I have a rule not to sleep with married men; it makes me feel bad. I can’t stop thinking about the wife. But I mainly think this is your problem, not mine. And I think that Lynne is due back in about seven minutes.”
The speed of putting clothes on was almost amusing. It felt companionable.
“I wonder if I should put different trousers on,” I said. “Just to test Lynne’s detective skills.”
“No, no,” said Cameron, looking alarmed.
“Oh, all right,” I said.
And we kissed, smiling at each other through the kiss. Married. Why did he have to be married?
That was on the Wednesday. On Thursday he only had time to talk to me on the phone, while Lynne was in the room, a strange conversation with passionate protestations on his part and blank statements on mine: Yes. Yes. Of course. Yes. I feel that as well. All right. On Friday morning, a team of men moved into my flat and fitted new locks on every door and iron grids over each window. And after lunch he came, and Lynne was needed to
