‘I’m going off it,’ she said. It was my turn to grin. Diane changes her hairstyle every month. Perhaps it’s hormonal.
‘Go on,’ she said, ‘you first. You look like you need it.’
‘Nothing dramatic. Just work, and kids. I’ve got a new case.’
‘More matrimonials?’
‘No.’ I took another draught of beer. ‘Missing person. Runaway boy.’ I told her all about it, finishing up with my meeting with Giggler and Blue Eyes. ‘I think they thought I was a plain-clothes police officer or something.’
‘No chance,’ Diane snorted.
‘What d’you mean?’
‘You’re too messy.’
‘What?’
‘Your hair, shoes. I bet you had your trainers on, didn’t you?’
‘So?’ I bristled.
‘Even undercover, the police look neat and clean. Nice manageable hairstyles, polished shoes or perfect trainers.’
I held up my foot. The trainer was scuffed and stained. The stitching was frayed, the laces grubby. ‘Well, they didn’t like me.’
‘So,’ she stretched out her hands, ‘they’ve no taste. Another?’ She picked up her glass.
‘Not yet.’
Diane walked over to the bar. She was a big, fat woman. She insisted on using that description. After twenty years of being miserable on diet after diet, she’d rebelled. Joined a group formed after the publication of Fat Is A Feminist Issue and had come to like her size and to flaunt it. Tonight, she sported a bright turquoise and gold knee-length tunic with gold leggings. She walked gracefully, light-footed for all her weight.
I stretched and twisted in my seat. My left shoulder ached. It’s the side I carry the kids on, the side that tenses up when I drive, when I’m worried.
Diane set her drink down and tossed me a bag of nuts.
‘Well,’ she pronounced, ‘maybe this’ll be the one that got away.’
I grimaced.
‘You can’t expect to solve every case, can you?’ She opened her own peanuts and picked a couple out.
‘But that bothers me…’
‘Perfectionist.’
‘No, it’s not that. If I’m taking the money, I want to make it worthwhile. Get some sort of result.’ I tugged at the packet of nuts. The plastic stretched but didn’t tear.
‘But if this lad’s disappeared, doesn’t want to be found, then maybe that’s the result. Missing without trace or whatever they call it. Anyway, there’s loads of times when people shell out money for no result.’
‘Such as?’ I tried using my teeth on the packet.
‘Estimates for work, eye tests when nothing’s changed, structural surveys; I had to fork out for three of those before I found a place that wasn’t falling down.’
