‘Yes.’ She was right. Sending his wife away, using the dog to establish a nodding acquaintance with Rose. It would give him nightmares for the rest of his life. ‘I hope to God I never come across another like him.’
He put his hand down and felt Dog lick it, warm, reassuring. Love given.
‘What’s going to happen? It’s impossible to keep this quiet. The whole street knows, for a start. There’s never been so much action here, not in a hundred years. A dozen police cars outside.’
Alex pulled her back into the circle of his arm. Rested his cheek on top of her head. He relaxed as he felt the touch of her hand on his.
‘They’re drafting a press release now. It’s complicated. Politicians, barristers, judges, law professors—no one knows what to do. All those cases he presided over. Does every single one have to be reviewed? Someone came up with the idea that if they charge him for Edwina’s death, only the cases from then on would be affected. But he’s talking about the other murders, so I don’t know. Anyway, it’ll never go to trial. He’s mad. He’s not fit to plead.’
The two of them lapsed into silence.
‘What are you going to do, Alex?’
‘Me? I’m going to try and forget it for a while. Take time off to heal. The doctor suggested resting for a month to six weeks and for once I’m going to do as the doctor says. I’m going to relax and try to enjoy the summer. What about you?’
‘I’ve got a bit of healing to do, too. I’ll probably do much the same.’
This is it then, thought Alex. No more time for prevarication.
‘Don’t suppose,’ Alex said, ‘you want us to hang out together? You know, you and me, playing at being sixteen again. Lying on the beach, soaking up the sun, being lazy, reading books, gentle
walks?’
Rose smiled. Thought of the yearning she had felt for lost summer love. To be young and free. Well, she wasn’t very old. Not yet. ‘Sounds like one of the best offers I’ve had in years. I’d better take over the cooking, though. For a while, anyway. It’s obvious you’re in more pain than me. I’m not a bad cook, you know.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you’re not, but you don’t have to cook. You’re fond of Chinese aren’t you?’
‘What? Sure. Why?’
‘Good. Because Mr Chan is sending over some meals. He told me this morning. He was going to send over a chef, but that was a step too far. We bargained and he settled for a daily supply of the best Chinese meals in town. Said to keep an eye out for a white van. I tried to stop him. But he’s a determined old bugger.’
He could feel the smile spread through Rose’s body. The hint of a laugh.
Later, he thought, later I’ll tell her what I’ve really got in mind. Then there’ll be time to talk about the future. For now, we need to relax. Let the fear and hate drain away. Take it one step at time.
— Acknowledgements
To ghosts past and people present. A book is seldom written in isolation.
In the beginning … there were the teachers, Lucy Treloar and Leigh Redhead, who introduced me to the craft of writing with patience and skill.
Later the friends’ network came into play. In particular, Michele Wheeler who did an initial edit in the most difficult of circumstances, and Becky Birch with her scary attention to detail.
To finesse the manuscript, the editors associated with Journeys to Words Publishing, Kate Ryan and Jen Hutchison applied twin laser beams of experience and professionalism, turning my story into the book it is today.
To all, my thanks.
