‘It’s a debate we have constantly within the profession,’ she said. ‘It goes against the grain for many of us to take authoritarian measures, but sometimes I genuinely feel there’s no alternative. These children are vulnerable, they just don’t know it.’
‘It’s funny,’ I said, not wanting to lose the moment, ‘but when I was a kid, my mum used to tell me what a cruel world we lived in. She always said enjoy everything while you’re young, but be prepared, because when you get older you’ll see that there are a lot of bad people out there. And you know what? I never believed her.’
‘But you do now?’
‘Yeah, I do now. If anything, she was more right than she could have known.’
‘You’re beginning to strike me as the sensitive type, Mr Milne.’
‘I’m not quite sure whether I should take that as a compliment or not.’
She thought about that for a moment, looking at me over her glass. ‘Take it as a compliment. It’s how it was intended.’
‘We’re not all fascist bullyboys, you know. Some of us are actually quite nice people – especially when we’re not at work.’
‘I don’t doubt it. And just because I’m in the profession I’m in, it doesn’t mean I’d automatically think you were all fascist bullyboys.’
‘But some of your colleagues do.’
‘Some of the younger ones do, yes. When I first joined social services, I was probably a lot more black and white in my view of the forces of law and order too. But that was a long time ago.’
‘Not that long, I’m sure,’ I said with mock chivalry.
She smiled. ‘Now that I will definitely take as a compliment.’
‘It’s how it was intended.’
She looked at her watch, then back at me. ‘I really ought to be going, Mr Milne. Time’s getting on, and I’m driving.’
‘Well, have one last drink with me. It’s a rule I’ve got that I always have to have a minimum of two drinks in every pub I go into. One drink means you’re in too much of a hurry.’
‘It’s an interesting theory. All right, then, I’ll have one more. But let me buy.’ She stood up. ‘Same again?’
‘Please.’
I watched her as she walked across to the bar. She was wearing black high-heeled boots and she carried herself extremely well, moving with a grace I would normally associate with a model. Or maybe it was just me. I was already fully aware that I had the hots for her. I expect she knew it too, but it was only watching her then that I realized quite how much I wanted to rip her clothes off and make love to her on the spot. It had been close to six months since I’d last had sex so it wasn’t going to take a lot to get me going, and the last time had been no great success either. On that occasion it had been a woman DC from the station who’d been as drunk as me, so it was never going to be a match made in heaven. She’d been engaged to a lawyer from the CPS and I’d got so worn out that I’d had to fake an orgasm. Twice. Although I must have done something right because she’d wanted to see me again afterwards.
This time, there was more than just a desire to have sex, although this came high on the list. I was attracted to Carla in a way I’m not used to. The last time I’d had a feeling like this was when I’d started going out with Danny’s sister, and that had been a long time back.
She stayed for about another twenty minutes. I was desperate to go to the toilet for most of the conversation but held back, not wanting to give her an excuse to realize that she ought to be on her way home. We chatted about this and that, mainly to do with our respective jobs, and I found her an interesting and intelligent talker. She was single as well, which helped. Divorced with no kids, she said that most of the time she was married to her work. I told her I knew the feeling.
I kept looking for an opportune moment to ask her out but one never came, or maybe it’s more accurate to say that my nerve let me down. I mean, she was a serious career woman with an air of authority about her more suited to a politician than to social services, and I was like a schoolboy in love for the first time with feelings that were more seventeen than thirty-seven.
When she’d finished her drink, she stood up and offered me a hand to shake. ‘I really must be going, Mr Milne. It’s been very pleasant. It’s just a pity that the reason we’ve been brought together is so tragic.’
I stood up and shook, squeezing her hand tightly. ‘Unfortunately, that’s the way it goes sometimes. Well, it was nice to talk to you, Ms Graham.’
‘You may as well call me Carla.’
‘Well then, I insist you call me Dennis.’ It sounded a really shite name when I said it like that. Really unsophisticated. Like Wayne, or Eric. For a moment I wondered why I’d never changed it to something better. Even Zeke would have been an improvement.
She smiled. ‘Well, Dennis, I hope the investigation goes well.’
That was my opportune moment, but I bottled it. ‘I’m sure it will. I’ll be in touch if there’s anything else we need. And obviously, as I said earlier–’
‘I’ll definitely let you know if any of the girls goes missing, but, as I told you, it does happen a lot, and there’s usually an innocent explanation, if I can use a word like that.’
‘Sure, I understand.’ I finished my drink. ‘Let me walk you to your car.’
‘There’s no need. It’s only parked round the corner. I’d offer you a lift but I’ve got a very early start.’
‘No problem, I understand.’ At least my
