I filled our glasses. ‘Will you try again?’
‘I expect so.’ She came and sat down again, and took a drink. ‘You ought to have a go.’
‘Oh no!’ I was horrified. ‘I couldn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s so…’
‘Obvious? Well, how else are you ever going to meet anyone?’
‘Who says I want to meet anyone?’ I retorted. ‘I might be perfectly happy as I am.’
‘Huh!’ She snorted. ‘Are you?’
‘Yes, most of the time.’ I swigged my wine. ‘There’s a lot to be said for being single,’ I went on. ‘I don’t have to negotiate with someone all the time, I can be as selfish, independent…’
She burst out laughing.
‘What?’
‘Sal, you live with two children, a man, a lodger and a dog. You can’t move a muscle without checking out childcare or whether you’re out of milk. You’re hardly the embodiment of a free spirit.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Whereas I actually am a free spirit. I don’t even have a budgie and I could do with a bit of passion.’ She fetched a newspaper from the corner. ‘Here, look at these.’ Some of the ads had been circled.
‘How do you pick them?’
‘Knock out all the g.s.o.h.’s – good sense of humour. I reckon it’s a code, means they’re total prats who like practical jokes and toilet humour. And I knock out all the super sporty ones and the very rich ones and the attractive twenty somethings.’
‘Why?’
‘I want a man,’ she swivelled her shoulders, ‘not a boy. Read what’s left.’
While she sorted the meal out I read out the five remaining entries. We got giggly reading between the lines. They all sounded inoffensive; one or two were more interesting. One was a keen gardener.
‘You see,’ she pointed at me with the serving spoon, ‘he might be able to help you with your pruning.’
‘Ha ha.’
She brought in the main course. A glistening Spanokapita, spinach, curd cheese and nuts in a delicate filo pastry, baby new potatoes and a crunchy sprouted salad. Our conversation lulled while we piled up our plates.
‘It’s wonderful,’ I told her.
‘You busy?’
‘Yes, all of a sudden.’ I told her about my week, the gruesome discovery at Mr Kearsal’s, the press follow-up. The bomb.
‘I felt it here,’ she said, ‘the blast. I felt the windows move.’ She shook her head. ‘I hated that building, but…’
We were quiet for a moment, the atmosphere in the room suddenly charged with emotion.
I talked to her about the two cases I now had. I know I can trust her not to gossip to anyone else about my work.
Some more wine, some apricot fool and some fierce coffee, and it was time for home. I cycled back slowly. It was cloudy, no stars to gaze at, but the gardens were full of night scents; sweet stocks, the tang of honeysuckle, heady tobacco plants. Cats were out and about, darting across the roads, creeping under hedges. I passed a dead hedgehog. There wasn’t much traffic on the side roads and I could drop my guard and relish the sensation of the air on my face and the tingle in my leg muscles as I built up speed.
