'Could you try him please?'
He taps a little longer. 'You're unlucky today. He's not on call and he won't be available until tomorrow. Would that do?'
I shake my head. I need to find out where Callum and James spent last night. Would they have gone home or stayed in a hotel? The officer looks at me enquiringly. 'Could someone else help?' he asks.
I shake my head again. 'I'm afraid only James Sabine can.' Tears fill my eyes and the officer pats my arm. 'We'll track him down, love. Don't you worry.' And with this he gets on the phone. He's back off it two minutes later after calling one of the detectives from the department. 'Gosh, you're unfortunate aren't you, love? It's Detective Sergeant Sabine's wedding today apparently; that's why you can't get hold of him!' He grins at me, apparently pleased with his Sherlockian deduction. I nod wearily and the smile on the officer's face fades. 'Aren't you the reporter …? You and James Sabine …?' I nod again. Words are now beyond me and slowly the penny drops. The officer stares at me. 'Right,' he says decisively and gets back on the phone.
Together we call and call until our digit fingers are nearly falling off. Again and again people aren't sure where Callum and James are. I speak to the officers themselves, their wives, children, great-aunts, anyone who happens to answer the phone. Most of the officers who were out last night seem to have extreme cases of amnesia. I do find out that Callum and James were staying in a hotel somewhere together but no one can remember the name. They can't even tell me where it was as they packed them both into a taxi at about one this morning.
'Where did you go for the evening?' I ask casually when I manage to get hold of another officer called John.
'Weston-super-Mare. Callum thought a bit of sea air might do us all some good!'
'Weston-super-Mare?' I cry somewhat hysterically, thinking of my exhausting night traipsing the length and breadth of Bristol, freely handing over my hard-earned cash to fat nightclub owners.
'It was fantastic! You should have been there!'
'Hmmm.'
'Anyway, I think Callum said they were staying somewhere like, em, the Pacific?'
'Right. Thanks John.'
I get off the phone and pass this piece of precious information on to my new partner. We bring up everywhere with 'Pacific' in its title in the Weston-super-Mare area on the computer. We both take a deep breath and start phoning.
I look at my watch. It's a quarter to twelve. Countdown is forty-five minutes. I wearily replace the receiver and gently put a hand on my partner's forearm. He looks up from dialling in another number. I shake my head. 'Don't worry any more. He would have left for the ceremony by now.' The officer (I never even found out his name) slowly replaces the receiver and looks at me. He smiles sympathetically as I get up. 'Thanks anyway,' I add before sluggishly weaving my way through the maze of desks and down the stairs.
Time seems to be running on slow for me. I watch a flock of birds as they fly in perfect formation across the blue sky and mindlessly think the weather has turned out well for them. I notice a building I've never seen before and wonder if it's always been there or whether someone else had an evening as busy as my own last night and knocked it up while we were all still asleep. Will James notice I'm not there at some point? At the buzzing reception, will he frown to himself and think he hasn't seen Holly? I'm too exhausted to cry, I just want to get into the car and drive and drive until I reach the end of the earth. I have no wish to go home either, so I fish my mobile out of my bag and call my own home number to speak to my parents. The phone rings and rings; I stupidly and belatedly realise they'll both be on their way to the wedding. The answer machine clicks on and I press the cut-off button on my mobile. I sit for what seems like hours, trying to think of what to do and where to go next. I consider calling Lizzie but as my finger hovers over the digits I realise I am not really feeling up to coping with their happiness right now. I know that sounds completely horrible of me but I'm not. I just want to get as far away from here as I possibly can. I think wistfully of Cornwall, of the green fields and the blue sea. Cornwall. I'll just drive down to Cornwall, to my parents' house. I have a key to it on my keyring which has always hung there. I call my home number again and this time I leave a message on the answer machine.
'Hello. It's me, Holly. I've decided to go down to Cornwall for a few days. To home. I know you are coming on tomorrow after the wedding so could you bring some clothes for me? Just make sure everything is off and slam the door on your way out. Thanks. See you tomorrow.'
With a marginally lighter heart, I leave a message for Joe saying I am taking a few days' holiday at my parents' house and set off towards the M5 south and home.
I try to keep the tears at bay by talking out loud to Tristan about everything and anything that comes to mind. I jabber about the weather, the holidays I fancy taking, the books I'm going to read. Anything to keep my mind off the wedding which I know will be over by now. Little thoughts come bumbling in of their own volition. Mr and Mrs James Sabine. Sounds nice, doesn't it?
At about junction twenty, Tristan starts to judder. 'No, nooo. Tristan, please, not now.' He practically starts to pant and I reluctantly pull over on to the hard shoulder. I turn off the engine and sit immobilised for a few minutes. Tristan shudders alarmingly every time a lorry goes past. This had to happen today of all days, just when all I wanted was to reach home and collapse. Another ironic indication that sometimes life isn't fair. Muttering madly, I drag myself out of the car and start the long hike towards an orange emergency phone. I glare ferociously at every passing motorist who looks with interest at the loopy bag lady hiking up the hard shoulder.
'Just let any rapist or murderer come within an inch of me,' I mutter savagely, just let 'em try.' I tell the polite operator I am a woman on my own, request her to call the RAC and stomp back to the car in a thoroughly bad temper.
Twenty minutes later, which to be honest was plenty of time for any accomplished axe murderer to have had his wicked way with me and then chopped me up into little bits, a familiar squad car pulls up. I smile at them in the mirror. Pete and Phil, my usual muses, beckon me into their car, the usual formalities dispensed with.
'Hello Pete, hello Phil!' I mutter as I clamber in the back.
'Are you all right?' Pete asks, swivelling around in his seat and frowning at me.
'Fine, why?'
'You just look a little strange, and a little …' His eyes wander down my strange apparel.
I sigh. I can't be bothered to explain. 'Gin rummy anyone?'
They grin and Phil reaches into the glove compartment for the pack of cards while Pete pours me a cup of coffee from the Thermos. Two hands later, the radio buzzes to life and Phil takes the call. I sip my coffee and wait for him to finish.
'Holly, we're going to have to go. Urgent call. You'll be OK. The RAC won't be long now.'
I sigh, say my goodbyes and then am thrown out with great expedience on to the hard shoulder. I walk back to Tristan, give the boys a wave and climb in. I am just berating my fate quietly to myself when I notice a red car has pulled up behind me. Oh, terrific timing. The axe murderer has arrived. Bloody marvellous. I look hastily around the car for a weapon and seize upon a rather timid-looking ballpoint pen that
is
quietly nestling underneath a crisp packet. Someone raps on the passenger door window. I lean over, brandishing my pen at them, and say, 'Now look here …"
James Sabine's face stares back at me.
I gape at him and the adrenalin hits my stomach and starts slushing the sparse contents around. Not content with wreaking havoc with my digestion, it then proceeds down to my legs and turns them to jelly. I shift position rather quickly as he pulls open the door and climbs in. 'Where the hell have you been? The station said you've been trying to get hold of me and we've looked everywhere for you.'
I take a quick squint at the car behind. Is Fleur in there, complete with four large suitcases, ready to jet off to the Maldives? 'I, er …'
'The paper said you were going to Cornwall.'
'I'm allowed to go to Cornwall,' I say a tad defensively, but he's too busy staring at my rather attractive outfit.
'What on earth are you wearing?'
'Erm, my clothes,' I mumble.
'You actually paid money for these things?'
'James, what do you want?' I ask impatiently, the waiting carving small holes in my heart.
It's his turn to look a bit sheepish and confused. 'Well, in a word, I want you.'
I look at him in astonishment. 'Me?' I echo.
'M
e' I ask again.
He nods slowly, his green eyes fixed upon mine. We stare at each other until he hesitantly moves his head forward and kisses me. A brief, warm kiss. He sits back and looks at me again.
'I hate to seem pushy, Miss Colshannon, but could you tell me whether it is at all reciprocated? It's just that I think Callum' – he gestures with his head to the red car behind – 'might be wanting to get back.'
I rush to get the words out. 'It's reciprocated. Very reciprocated. It couldn't be more so, in fact,' I whisper.
'Good.' He opens the passenger door and leans out, giving Callum the thumbs-up sign. The red car flashes its lights and hoots as it pulls away.
I still stare incredulously at James, not sure whether this is some sort of huge practical joke and Jeremy Beadle is about to leap out from behind a tree. He leans forward again and kisses me. Wave upon wave of beautiful, sweet kisses. His hands move up my arms and reach my face. His thumbs linger around my cheekbones and then plunge into my hair.
'Hmmmm, arhhmmm!' I murmur. Not in careless, gay, abandoned passion but due to the rather unattractive thought that I haven't washed my hair since the day before yesterday and my teeth since early this morning. He breaks apart in surprise. 'What?'
I wrinkle my nose apologetically. 'I don't feel terribly clean, that's all. Don't want you going off me within five minutes.'
'No danger of that. Been having impure thoughts about you for weeks.' He grins at me but draws back a little nonetheless at my request and takes both my hands in his.
'Really?' I ask in wonder. I hesitantly lean forward and touch his face, still unsure about the reality of the situation. I double-check to make sure I'm not dreaming.
'The wedding?' I ask simply.
'Didn't go ahead, needless to say.' Not needless to my ears. I want to hear every single gory detail, and anything with Fleur in it I want to go over twice.
'When? How?'
'Mixture of things, really. We went on my stag in Weston-super-Mare as you know. I spent the whole time in a confab with Callum. The rest of the department had a delightful night getting uproariously drunk while Callum and I debated my future. I didn't know what to do, Holly. I was so confused. I knew something was definitely up when I found myself getting into the passenger side of the car when you weren't there just to smell your perfume on the seatbelt. I found myself wanting to call you up to talk to you at all hours of the night. You made me feel something I thought was dead, something I thought had died with Rob. But I couldn't see clearly, I thought it might just be last-minute nerves. You see, when I first started to date Fleur, she was a ray of light after all those months in darkness. She was beautiful and charming and just what I needed then.' He pauses for a second and looks down at our intertwined hands.
'Go on,' I urge, anxious to get to the bit where it goes wrong.
'Well, I guess she was a bit pushy and to begin with I didn't seem to have room to grieve for Rob and love her. I thought the love for her would come in time. To get married seemed the natural progression; my parents were thrilled and I suppose I hoped in some small way it would start to heal them. You know, a wedding, grandchildren in time, things to look forward to.'
'But Fleur didn't want children,' I interject.
'I know, she mentioned that a few months ago. Though after the marquee had been booked, the caterers vetted and the church reserved, I might add. Maybe that was when the cracks started to appear. I don't know. At the time I smoothed over it, thinking I could change her mind later on. And then I met you …' He smiles slightly and looks into my eyes. I smile back. Ahhhh, now we get to the good bit. I settle down into my seat and await
Jackanory
.
'… and your arsey attitude.' I frown a little to myself; this wasn't quite what I had in mind. 'And I started to look forward to my days at work. I glimpsed something pre-Rob that I vaguely remembered.'
'How did you call it off with Fleur?'
'Well, when your mother found us at the stag do—'
'My mother?' I interject.
'Yes, your mother,' he repeats patiently. 'Lizzie was with her too.'
'Lizzie?' So that's where the two of them got to last night, and I believed them when they said they were stocking up on tights and wedding mags.
'Well, they turned up at about eight-ish. They had been down to the station and caught Dave coming off duty and he'd told them where we were. He even drove them into Weston-super-Mare because he was so anxious for them to get hold of me. Must have second sight that man! Your mother had had lunch with Miles yesterday. He'd told her all about his plans for me in his firm. In the end that's what finally convinced me.' He looks at me and grins. 'It also gave me a very good reason to call the wedding off.'
'I saw my mother last night though; why didn't she tell me?'
'To be honest, she probably didn't know what I was going to do. I wasn't exactly forthcoming about how I felt about you. I just said I was going to sort things out with Fleur. I've been up all night with her. Talking,' he adds hastily as he sees my raised eyebrows. 'I called your house this morning but you'd already gone.'
'I was trying to find you.'
'I know. I found messages on my mobile from the station. Urgent police business, was it?'
'Very urgent. I saw Fleur last night.'