‘I’m not antisocial,’ Amy countered. ‘I like socialising . . . with the right people . . . in the right place . . . for a limited amount of time.’
Bicks’s home was set in a beautiful spot, directly overlooking the sea, and there was nothing but a quiet stretch of road to hinder the view. Frinton was only a few miles from Clacton but had a completely different vibe. Known as an exclusive resort, its beaches were long and golden, with several small independent businesses in town. It didn’t have numerous pubs, a pier or amusements, but that was how the locals liked it. Amy gave a hesitant smile to Donovan, telling herself to get a grip as an outline appeared through the stained glass in the front door. It was Bicks, and he greeted them both warmly as he ushered them inside. Their hallway was as wide as the living room in Amy’s last flat.
‘Careful, mind your coat,’ Bicks said, as Amy brushed against a hall table. It held a huge vase of lilies, their stamens heavy with pollen. ‘I keep telling Susi not to buy the ones with the stamens, but she loves the smell.’
Lilies were for funerals as far as Amy was concerned, but as she handed Bicks her coat, she kept her opinions to herself.
‘Nice gaff.’ Donovan’s voice echoed through the corridor of his friend’s home. He glanced up at the gallery stairwell in the middle of the hall. ‘There must be, how many? Four bedrooms?’
‘Five.’ Bicks smiled, with evident pride. ‘You get a lot more house for your money down this end of the country, or have you forgotten?’
Amy was about to agree when a chubby little boy came bounding down the stairs.
‘Eh, Champ! Take it easy!’ Bicks called out. ‘What are you doing out of bed?’
‘Sorry, Daddy.’ He delivered a gap-toothed grin, clearly anything but sorry. He looked adorable in his bunny-rabbit pyjamas and matching slippers. Amy guessed him to be five or six, and you could see he was destined to have his father’s chunky build.
Binks placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Come and say hello, Jamie. These are friends of mine.’
The little boy regarded Amy uncertainly before extending his hand. ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’ The words sounded as if he was reading them from a piece of card. This was a child who had been brought up to learn the value of manners. Amused, both Amy and Donovan shook the little boy’s hand.
Amy’s attention was drawn to a woman she could only presume to be Bicks’s wife as she entered the hall. Petite in stature, she had wavy shoulder-length blonde hair and was a good ten or fifteen years younger than her husband. Her figure-hugging jumpsuit flattered every curve. Amy was beginning to regret coming straight from work. Had she known what she was walking into, she would have made a bit more of an effort. She glanced at the numerous pictures displayed on the wall, resting her gaze on a plethora of old family photos, digitally reproduced and framed. Family was important here.
‘Why are we all standing in the hall?’ Bicks’s wife extended a manicured hand as Jamie was ushered up the stairs by his dad. ‘I’m Susi. Nice to meet you both at last.’ Her handshake was as light as a feather, and her gaze lingered over Donovan before she guided them inside. Amy gave Donovan a side-eye as she imagined what he was thinking – that Bicks had landed on his feet here. Life was so much harder for couples who were both in the police. She gave one last, longing glance at the front door before following them in. In work, Amy was confident and driven. But when it came to her personal life, she was a true introvert.
The dining room was warm and welcoming, with corner lamps setting the room in a warm glow. The table was grand, in keeping with the building, and the fireplace brought a sense of opulence.
As Bicks walked in, he caught Donovan’s gaze. ‘The fireplace is an original. It would have been a crime to brick it up. This used to be the living room, but we’ve extended on to the back.’
Each room seemed so expansive compared to what Amy was used to. Her parents’ townhouse in Earl’s Court was over several floors, but nowhere near as big as this. She could see the attraction of living by the sea, but London would always pull her back.
Donovan was smiling, obviously impressed. Was this the life he wanted? Coming home to a house by the sea and a perfect wife and child? Amy shook away the thought. What was wrong with her? All she had done since coming here was put up imaginary obstacles between them both. The truth was, she was scared. She saw what Bicks and Susi had, and she wasn’t ready for it yet. She wasn’t sure if she ever would be.
‘Let’s get started,’ Susi said. ‘I hope you don’t mind eating so late.’
As they sat around the heavy wooden table, both drinks and conversation flowed. Amy realised from the way Donovan and Bicks were talking that the reason for the get-together was to celebrate Carla’s life. She relaxed in the knowledge that she wasn’t going to be interrogated and soon she was working her way through the main course.
‘Remember when that guy drove his car into the sea?’ Bicks said, tucking into his coq au Riesling. ‘Carla was terrified of water, but she jumped in there with you, without a thought for herself.’
Amy was surprised to see Donovan quiet for once. His head was low as he pushed his fork around his plate. ‘Amy doesn’t want to hear our old war stories.’
‘On the contrary,’ Amy replied. ‘There’s nothing I’d like more.’ Bicks’s son was asleep in bed, so their conversation was uncensored. But the look on Donovan’s face suggested a level of discomfort. Amy’s curiosity grew.
‘The job started out as a domestic,’ Bicks said. ‘We’d let him off earlier in the day with
