I shook my head. ‘I just skated around it when I was talking to Walter. I did say I might be coming and going at odd times because of work, but he just told me not to bang the front door. God knows what he thought my job was, but he didn’t ask any more questions.’
‘Let’s see.’ Rob frowned, assessing me. ‘Assassin. Emergency plumber. Pilot.’
‘Call-centre worker. Fish gutter. Stripper. Drug dealer.’
‘All perfectly reasonable ways to make a living. And all less controversial than being a copper.’ He stood up. ‘I’m going to have a look at your tired bathroom. I can’t stand the suspense.’
‘Down the hall, on the right.’
He disappeared, whistling again. I listened to him close the bathroom door behind him and reflected that he, at any rate, seemed to feel at home. I wasn’t quite comfortable yet. The sounds of the house still bothered me. The little ticks and creaks of an old building were magnified a hundred times when you were lying in bed, alone, unable to sleep. The pipes made unearthly noises in the early morning that had woken me up more than once, convinced that I’d heard a scream. Earplugs might have helped, but I didn’t like to cut myself off from my surroundings. It wasn’t surprising really. Being wary had probably saved my life a few months earlier. If indulging my survival instinct meant losing out on some shut-eye, I’d just have to cope without it.
When Rob came back he sat closer to me, his thigh touching mine. The candle had burnt out and the only light came from a dim lamp behind him. I couldn’t see enough of his expression to know what he was thinking.
‘I don’t mean to be boring, but we really do need to talk.’
I wriggled. ‘Do we? I’d rather not.’
‘I know. I noticed you dodging me for the last two months.’
‘No, I mean that I can think of things I’d rather do than talk.’
‘That’s not what you said when we got together last year. You were the one who wanted to talk about what we were doing and whether it was a good idea.’
His arm was lying along the back of the sofa behind my head and I leaned against it. ‘Yeah, but now I’m absolutely sure it’s a bad idea, I don’t want to think about it any more.’
‘You can’t hide for ever.’
It was uncomfortably close to what Dec has said earlier in the evening. I looked at him earnestly. ‘Do you think I’m using you?’
He moved away a few inches and laughed. ‘God, Maeve. Be more direct.’
‘It’s a serious question.’
‘Okay, I’ll give you a serious answer. No, I don’t. I think you’re doing your best to do the right thing by both of us but you don’t have a clue what that is. I think you want this to be uncomplicated and you’re terrified that it’s not going to turn out that way. I think you want to be logical about it and you can’t help the fact that your emotions keep getting in the way. You weren’t made to be dispassionate, Maeve. Not at work. Not at home. And certainly not in bed.’
I pleated the hem of my jumper, not wanting to look him in the eye. ‘It seems a bit unfair that everyone knows a lot more about me than I know about myself.’
‘That’s one of the sweetest things about you. You genuinely have no idea what you’re like. It makes you very unpredictable.’
‘But you predicted I wouldn’t be able to resist you.’
‘Oh, that was a sure thing.’
Instead of answering, I leaned over and kissed him lightly. He slid one hand up to the back of my neck and drew me towards him for a proper kiss, one that reminded me, as if I needed it, that Rob was something special.
When we broke apart, he grinned at me. ‘Unless you’ve changed a lot, I doubt you want to go any further while we’re sitting in such a public place. And I noticed the bed has sheets and pillows and a duvet on it already.’
‘I have some standards.’ I stood up, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. ‘Come on.’
Once we had moved into the hall, out of the goldfish bowl that was my living room, Rob pulled me back towards him and kissed me again, hard. I hadn’t forgotten what being with him was like – I had thought about it often enough – but he had a single-mindedness that was new, an urgency that took me by surprise. It was as if he had something to prove, to me or to himself. It was altogether too serious for me and I leaned away from him so I could look into his eyes, laughing a little.
‘Wow. Take it easy.’ He bent his head again and I dodged. ‘Just a second.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. But there’s no rush, is there?’
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Right.’
‘From what I recall, you are very good at this. I just want to enjoy it.’
That earned me a flash of the old Rob. ‘Let me guess – somewhere in that magazine there’s a feature on ten ways to get your boyfriend in the mood for sex. Number four: flatter him by telling him he’s good at it.’
It was a throwaway remark but I couldn’t let it go, even though I should have known better. ‘You’re not my boyfriend.’
He looked at me for a long moment, then dropped his hands from my body, burying them in his pockets as if he didn’t even want to touch me by accident. The space between us suddenly felt like it stretched for miles. ‘You still want to have it your way, don’t you? No commitment. No trust.’
‘No complications,’ I countered, suddenly angry. ‘Come on, Rob. Most men would prefer that.’
Instead of answering, he walked away, picked up his jacket from the arm of the sofa where he’d thrown it on arrival and headed for the door.
I went after him. ‘Where are you going? You can’t just storm off in a huff.’
No answer.
The very short fuse of my temper spluttered into flame. ‘This is exactly why I thought a relationship was a bad idea in the first place. I warned you this would happen. We have to work together.’ He paid no attention. ‘And it would be nice if you could stop ignoring me. Sulking is very unattractive.’
‘So is your attitude.’ He turned, one hand on the door latch. ‘Let’s recap, Maeve. You’ll sleep with me but you don’t want to have to talk about it. You’ll spend the evening with me as long as there are no strings attached and no one finds out.’
‘I said from the start that it was risky to get together. We’re mates first and foremost – that counts for a lot. I don’t want to screw things up.’
‘Bit late to be worrying about that.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t do this again, Maeve. I can’t chase after you and think I’ve got you, then end up back at the start. I want to know where I stand. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.’
‘You are such a hypocrite. You were the one who didn’t want to discuss that kind of thing the first time we slept together. You were far more interested in getting me into bed than in our long-term future, and if you’d thought about it for five minutes, you’d have known it was doomed.’
‘I thought we’d sort it out later. I thought I could get you to trust me if I let you get used to the idea of us being together.’
‘Do you want to know my rule about relationships? It has to be the right person, at the right time. Now, one of those things isn’t working with you.’ I looked at him coldly. ‘I just can’t decide which one it is.’
‘I’m so
fucking
tired of this.’ He opened the door and slammed it back against the wall, and one part of me was detached enough to note that I’d never seen him properly angry before. I followed him, standing in the doorway while he put his jacket on without looking in my direction. The communal hallway was shadowy, the stairs stretching up into darkness. There was a light switch somewhere, but I couldn’t recall where. The lamplight escaping through my open door caught the curlicues of plasterwork that still clung to the ceiling and glinted on the brass stair-rods that pinned the threadbare carpet in place. The house was silent, but it was the tense silence of someone holding their breath.
As quickly as it had flared, my anger burnt itself out. ‘Rob, please. Don’t leave it like this.’
Without turning, he said, ‘You know, Maeve, I think you’re right. This is a bad idea.’
I felt a thud of disappointment in my chest. ‘That’s not a reason to leave.’
‘I’d have said it was a pretty good reason, actually.’ He looked at me. ‘For someone who doesn’t want to screw things up, you have quite a talent for it.’
‘Go fuck yourself,’ I snapped, back to angry in a split second.
‘I suppose I’ll have to.’ He shook his head, slowly, sarcastically, and I thought he was going to say something else, but instead he punched the wall beside my door, quite hard.
It was a physical expression of his frustration, not an attack on me – I understood that straightaway – but I still jumped about a mile. It had sounded incredibly loud in the quiet house, and violent too. ‘Rob, for God’s sake, get a grip.’
He didn’t answer. He was too busy flexing his hand, examining it to make sure he hadn’t broken anything. In the silence we both heard the noise – a shuffle that might have been someone moving from one foot to another. Rob turned and peered up the stairs. He was in a better position than me to see a movement in the shadows and what he saw sent him bounding up the stairs three at a time.
‘What are you looking at?’ he said.
‘Nothing. I – nothing.’ I recognised the voice with a sinking feeling. Terror made Walter skip a few paces sideways so I could see him, his face contorted with anxiety. ‘I don’t want any trouble.’ He tried to sound firm. ‘I’ll call the police.’
‘I am the police.’ Rob flipped his warrant card out of his back pocket and flashed it to prove it. ‘But don’t worry. I’m leaving.’
‘It’s okay, Walter. Really.’ I walked into the hall, showing him that I was in one piece. ‘Everything’s fine.’
He nodded, a shade uncertainly. I couldn’t blame him. Across the hall, a creak announced that Chris’s door was opening and I guessed he had been standing behind it the entire time. And when I looked up, Szuszanna was hanging over the banisters on the other side, a burly man beside her, frank curiosity on their faces.
‘Show’s over, folks.’ I gave a general smile, medium wattage, and waited until they had all taken the hint and left us to it. ‘Are you okay?’
Rob came down the stairs slowly, shaking his hand as if it hurt. ‘I will be.’
I couldn’t tell if he was talking about his knuckles or his emotional state, and I didn’t get the chance to find out. He went straight past me and out the front door on a gust of cool night air, pulling it closed behind him. I shut my own door and went over to the window. It commanded a view of the whole street, but by the time I got there he was gone.
It was my good luck that I didn’t have to go into the office the following morning, or meet up with Derwent. I had a hearing to attend at the Old Bailey, a shooting that was on its way to trial. It was beyond restful to sit in Court 18 and stare at the oak panelling while the hearing dragged on, the barristers playing a polite game of one-upmanship. I had nothing to do. Chris Pettifer was more than happy to handle any queries that the prosecution had, and since he was a DS, he was entitled to.
It was my bad luck that I had forgotten Rob would be at the Central Criminal Court too that morning, dealing with his messed-up murder. I was standing on the concourse outside the court chatting with Pettifer when I felt that tingle at the base of the skull that tells you you’re being watched. Somehow, it wasn’t a surprise when I looked around and saw Rob on the opposite side of the concourse, Liv Bowen at his side. I stared across at him, not able to look away, trying to read the expression on his face.
‘Is everything okay?’ Pettifer was frowning when I looked back at him and I realised I had broken off mid-sentence.
‘Fine. It’s just – I hadn’t seen that Rob was here.’
Think fast
. ‘I have a message for him. From the boss.’
‘Better go and pass it on, then.’
It took all of the nerve I had at my disposal to walk towards Rob, especially since he looked less and less encouraging the closer I got. Liv melted away with a nod to me and I had time to admire her tact before I had to think of something to say. And as it turned out, I needn’t have bothered, because Rob got in first.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘That drugs shooting in Streatham was in for mention.’
‘You didn’t say last night.’
‘I meant to. I forgot.’ I tried to sound normal, even though I was shrinking inside. He was obviously still furious. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine.’
‘How’s your hand?’
‘Sore.’
‘You should ice it.’
‘I did.’
Instead of persevering with a conversation that was going nowhere, I looked away. I was struggling to keep myself from showing how upset I was. Snivelling would help no one.
Rob shook his head – still annoyed, but this time with himself. ‘Shit. Look, I was just going to get a coffee. Do you want one?’
With a huge effort, I managed to sound light-hearted. ‘Why not? It might be a better idea to talk in public.’
‘It can’t go much worse than last night.’
‘You’d hope not.’ I looked sideways at him as we walked towards the lift. ‘I’m sorry, if it helps.’
‘What do you need to apologise for? I shouldn’t have left like that.’
‘It was my fault.’
‘You didn’t make me punch your wall, Maeve. I did that all on my own.’
‘You had serious provocation.’
‘Don’t make excuses for me. There’s no need.’ He pushed the button to call the lift. ‘I just overreacted. That’s all.’
I wasn’t going to argue it out there and then. I didn’t say anything else until we had got to the canteen, queued for coffee and found a table. I scanned the room, checking to see if there was anyone we knew nearby, aware that Rob was doing the same thing. No one I knew was close enough to overhear us but there were plenty of police officers and lawyers who would have been delighted to speculate about our conversation and I hoped we could avoid the dramatics this time.
When we sat down, I picked up where we’d left off. ‘It’s not an overreaction to want to know where you stand. It’s not unreasonable to want things to be a certain way.’ I couldn’t look at him; I didn’t want to see disappointment in his eyes, or anger, or cold disapproval. ‘I thought we could do this, Rob, but I really think we have to call it a day.’