the local police to get some background for a book she wanted to write and Jon had been volunteered to talk to her. They’d met in Lacey’s coffee shop creating scenarios, spinning workable plots. This one sounded no different, except, of course, it was real.
‘But what about all the damage?’
Jon shrugged. ‘Covering their tracks? I should warn you, I don’t think there will be much of an investigation into this. Nothing’s been taken – the CID have got bigger fish to fry.’ He paused. ‘Divorced now?’
Dora smiled. I’m afraid so, Ray didn’t take too kindly to me picking up off-duty policemen.’
Jon laughed, holding her gaze. ‘My wife felt the same about stray writers,’ he said softly.
Dora wondered exactly what he was telling her.
‘What do you think they were looking for?’ she asked evenly.
She’d always sensed Jon’s interest was more than professional. She’d seen it in his eyes, heard in his teasing when they’d sat together in Lacey’s. Hunched over her notebook, listening to his deep, lyrical voice, she had used her husband to fend him off then, bringing her marriage into the conversation like a tank trap. Now it was the burglary.
‘I was hoping you could tell me. Is that tea brewed yet?’
Dora leant forward to pour it. ‘By the way, what were you doing at Jack’s funeral this morning?’
‘Show of respect. They sent Edwin Halliday, the cabinet minister, down to represent the government. Had to keep an eye on him. He could easily have got lost once he was off the M25, you know what MPs are like.’
Dora handed him a mug. ‘You’re a bodyguard these days?’
Jon snorted. ‘Not really, they wanted a couple of senior officers there to represent the force. I volunteered. I’d met Jack a few times, he was a nice guy.’
Looking away, Dora stroked the ash off her cigarette around the edge of the ashtray. ‘What’s going to happen about the burglary?’
‘You want me to be honest? Not a lot. By the way, who else knows you’re really Catiana Moran?’
Dora bit her lip. ‘No-one, just Calvin and now Lillian. The publishers know because of the contracts but no-one else locally.’
Jon nodded. ‘Family?’
Dora shook her head. ‘Good God, no, they have got no idea.’
‘That’s fine, try and keep it that way.’ He downed the rest of his tea. ‘You should be fine now, but don’t quote me on it.’
‘If my mystery caller decides to come back for a second look, you mean?’ she said.
‘Exactly. Look, I’ve really got to be going. At the moment there’s no way of knowing what’s going on. It might be nothing at all, but be careful. Check your locks and think about getting a security grille for the kitchen window.’
Dora looked around her familiar shabby sitting room. Oscar stretched and mewled. She shook her head. ‘Maybe it was just kids.’
Jon lifted his hands in resignation. ‘Maybe. I’ve asked the local plod to keep an eye on the flat while they’re out on their rounds.’
Dora snorted. ‘That’s very reassuring.’
Jon slowly got to his feet. ‘It’s the best I can do at the moment.’ He’d reached the hallway, hands back in his jacket. ‘Thanks for the tea.’
She didn’t want him to go. The realisation surprised her. It had nothing to do with the burglary, but a sudden awareness of how many years it had taken them to get back to this point.
‘You know, I’ve really missed you,’ she muttered thickly, feeling herself blush as she said it.
He didn’t seem to notice. ‘Funny, I was just thinking the same thing. Can I ring you, I mean, maybe we could go out somewhere, or something?’
Dora nodded. ‘Yes, I’d like that.’
He was moving reluctantly towards the door. ‘I know it’s a bit pushy but are you doing anything tomorrow night?’
She smiled. ‘Pushy I can cope with. What had you got in mind?’
‘I’ve got the night off, maybe we could go out for a meal?’
Dora nodded. ‘I’d like that. What time?’
‘Eight-ish?’
‘Fine.’
‘I’ll pick you up here.’
After she closed the door behind him, Dora pressed her forehead against the cool woodwork and wondered exactly what had happened to all the years since she had last seen him, and why they had never kissed. Behind her, Oscar mewled malevolently and scrambled into the kitchen. She went back into the office and plugged the phone in. Her daughter, Kate, answered on the third ring.
Dora barely had a chance to get past hello.
‘Mum, is that you? Aunty Sheila rang me to say you’d been burgled. I’ve been ringing and ringing –’
‘I unplugged the phone,’ Dora said.
Kate sniffed, sounding uncannily like Sheila. Concern was rapidly being displaced by indignation. ‘Why on earth did you do that? I’ve been so worried. Are you all right? Did they take much?’
Dora took a breath to reassure her she was fine, but Kate continued. ‘Have you rung Dad yet? I said to Mike that maybe we ought to ring Dad and let him know.’
Dora stared at the receiver. Some part of Kate had never been reconciled to the fact that she and Ray were divorced. Marriage, even if legally dead, somehow meant you were permanently, irreversibly joined at the hip.
‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘No, I haven’t rung your father.’
Kate sniffed again. ‘Do you want me to ring him? Do you want me and Mike to drive up? I mean, it’s only a couple of hours. Or you could come and stay down here for a while with us. We’ve got the spare room done now, we’re out at work all day but –’
Dora sighed, and dropped her voice into the tone she had once used to reassure Kate that she was more than a match for any monsters that lurked, fangs dripping, under her bed.
‘Really, love, I’m absolutely fine, how’s everything with you? How’s Mike?’
Kate sucked in a long breath, determined not to be side-tracked into conversations about her marriage. ‘I’ve been really worried.’
When Dora finally hung up she felt drained dry.
As she switched off the office light, in the darkness something caught her eye in the street below. Parked just outside the arc of a street lamp was a small dark car; inside was a man looking up at her window. A featureless moon-white face stared up at the flat. Dora smiled; the local plod. Jon
