Good Friday

Chapter Eleven

Jane returned home just before seven that evening. Pearl was already there and the TV was switched on in her bedroom. Jane called out that she was back and went into the kitchen. It was immaculate, which pleased her. She was about to put the kettle on for a cup of tea when the phone rang. It was Dexter.

‘Do you fancy fish and chips?’ he asked. ‘I can be at your place in half an hour, and I know a restaurant in Ladbroke Grove that serves the best in London.’

Jane didn’t hesitate and said she would be outside her flat in three quarters of an hour. She needed time to shower and change, and doubted if he had been truthful about being such a short distance away. After seeing Dexter at work on the testing site she had to admit to finding him even more attractive, despite the warnings she’d been given.

Jane went into the bathroom. The shower unit was attached to the bath taps, and there was a small, plastic curtained rail around the bath. She turned on the shower and hurried into her bedroom to decide what to wear. The Coronation Street theme tune echoed from the spare bedroom, but Pearl had not appeared. Just as Jane was hurrying back to the bathroom, naked but carrying a towelling robe, Pearl’s door opened.

‘Oh, sorry! I was just going to make myself some supper.’

Jane quickly wrapped the robe around herself. ‘I’m going out, so I’m just about to have a quick shower… but I shouldn’t be too late.’

‘There were a couple of calls for you earlier. A guy called Church, who said he’d ring back later, and one from someone called Natalie. She said it was nothing urgent, but I left the number in the kitchen.’

‘Thank you… I didn’t see your note.’

‘I thought that call might have been her calling you back. You’re obviously very popular.’

‘Oh, it was just work…’ Jane said, going into the bathroom. Whilst she stood under the shower she couldn’t help smiling. When she came out, she found Pearl in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables.

‘Could I have my hairdryer back?’

‘Sorry, I put it on your dressing table.’

Jane didn’t like the fact that Pearl had gone into her bedroom, but didn’t say anything. As she closed her door behind her, she decided that she would get a lock for it.

Jane dried her hair and pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of fawn trousers. She used a magnifying mirror on her dressing table to quickly apply some foundation, mascara and eyeshadow, finishing with a light lipstick. She put a matching fawn jacket around her shoulders. After checking herself in the mirror, she walked out into the hallway and closed her bedroom door behind her.

Pearl was sitting on one of the kitchen stools, drinking a glass of a greenish liquid. There was a strong smell of cabbage permeating the hall. She glanced at Jane as she passed the doorway.

‘You look very nice.’

‘Thank you… Is that cabbage I can smell?’

‘Yes, I’m making a soup with lentils, onions, spinach, carrots… and cabbage. I usually make a big pot so I can have it when I get home. It becomes thicker the longer I keep on boiling it up.’

Jane was tight-lipped as she went out. The cabbage smell lingered all the way down the stairs, and the thought that Pearl would be boiling it up every night made her feel sick.

Dexter was as good as his word, and Jane only waited a few minutes before he drew up in a silver Porsche. He leaned over to push open the passenger door.

‘A Porsche — I’m impressed!’ Jane said, as she bent down to get inside.

‘It’s my pride and joy. Used to belong to my father. I keep it garaged at a pal’s place, and he keeps it tuned up for me.’

The engine roared as they pulled out, but then he slowed to drive down Melcombe Street, past Balcombe Street and Marylebone Station, before turning right towards Ladbroke Grove. Dexter was wearing pale blue jeans and a leather jacket, and Jane smiled to herself as she remembered Daphne’s description of him looking like Steve McQueen. He was quite similar, although Dexter was much taller. He parked a few yards from a fish and chip shop that had a line of people waiting to be served.

‘I told you this was the best in London… they get customers from all over.’

Dexter was very much the gentleman and moved around the car from his side to open the passenger door for Jane. He held out his hand to help her out, locked the car, then took her by the elbow to join the queue of waiting customers. Jane was unsure how to react. She hadn’t expected to be eating her dinner from a newspaper, and there didn’t appear to be any dining tables inside. Before they reached the counter, Dexter told Jane to look at the blackboard for the fresh fish of the day, or to choose from the lit-up menus above the counter.

‘I’ll have cod and chips, please,’ she said to him.

‘D’you want mushy peas, and salt and vinegar?’

‘Yes, please.’

Dexter ordered the same and their portions were dished up in cardboard take-out cartons with plastic forks, then wrapped in newspaper. Jane was still unsure where they were going to be eating, as she followed him back to the car. Dexter unlocked the passenger door, and because he was holding the fish and chips she opened it and got back into the car.

Dexter then opened the boot, put their dinner inside and got in to the driver’s seat.

‘Right, we’ll eat at my place… I’ve got a nice bottle of Chablis in the fridge, and if I put my foot down the food will still be hot.’

‘Do you live near here?’ Jane asked.

‘Not far… just off Kilburn High Street.’

He leant forward and switched on the cassette player, his choice of Mozart surprising Jane. The journey was longer than he had implied, and they drove past her parents’ block of flats before turning off the Edgware Road and reaching Kilburn High Street. Dexter turned left into a wide street of four-storey Victorian houses. He parked, jumped out and retrieved the fish and chips from the boot, whilst Jane pushed open her door.

‘Out you come!’ he said, holding out his hand towards her. She clasped onto it and heaved herself up from the low-slung Porsche. Dexter locked the car and waited for her as she straightened her jacket, then gestured for her to follow him up wide stone steps to the front door. It was not exactly run-down, but the property had obviously seen better days. There was a row of bells by the front door. Dexter swung his set of keys around to unlock it and on pushing it open he gestured for her to walk ahead, kicking the door shut behind them both.

‘Keep going… up to the first floor.’

Jane climbed up the wide staircase, which would have been light and airy in daylight, as it was overlooked by big windows. A dark stair runner held down by old brass clips, and the stone steps either side, were rather grubby. She arrived at a wide corridor with a fitted grey carpet and whitewashed walls. There were two doors, both of which were painted a similar shade of grey to the carpet.

‘Number 2,’ Dexter said, selecting another door key.

Jane stood to one side as he opened it, and he let her go in ahead of him as he banged the door closed with his hip.

The floor in the hallway was stripped pinewood.

‘The kitchen is straight ahead of you,’ he said, gesturing with his head.

Jane was taken aback by the large kitchen, which was full of modern steel equipment. There was a double-doored fridge-freezer, and a large six-ringed cooker. The counters were granite, and the floor was covered in dark grey lino tiles, whilst the sinks and taps were more suited to a restaurant than a flat. There was a small utility room with a washing machine and dryer. Everything had been designed in a very modern style.

Dexter put the food down on the counter and unwrapped it, switching on the oven and putting the fish and chips into a large white oven dish.

‘Keep them nice and hot… I hate soggy chips. If you open the fridge there’s a bottle of uncorked wine. I’ll be back in a minute.’

Jane was completely surprised by his dexterity in the kitchen. She hesitated in front of the big fridge-freezer, then found the wine bottle and placed it on the counter, then she opened a few cupboards to look for some wine glasses. Jane was eager to keep occupied as she was feeling ill at ease, even more so as in every cupboard she opened she found neatly stacked white plates, cups, saucers, cereal bowls, milk jugs, and a sugar bowl. But she couldn’t find any glasses.

Dexter appeared at the door holding two fluted wine glasses. ‘The cutlery is in the top drawer. If you take these through, I’ll bring in the fish and chips.’

Jane opened the drawer and took out two sets of knives and forks, then Dexter handed her the glasses and she walked down the stripped pinewood floor in the hallway. The main room again took her by surprise. It was huge, with high ceilings, two white sofas, and what looked like a very expensive woven rug lying between them, with a clear glass coffee table on top of it. The large windows had stripped pine shutters that matched the bare wooden floorboards. There was a modern, long, white dresser with silver handles for the nine drawers. Two decorative bowls sat on top of it, one containing bunches of keys and the other containing packs of Marlborough cigarettes and Henri Wintermans Café Crème Cigars, along with several boxes of matches.

There was a rack of records and an expensive-looking stereo system, with two speakers positioned on the wall above it. The dining table was glass-topped pine, with six matching chairs and was positioned in front of a floor to ceiling window. Jane laid the two sets of cutlery out, along with the wine glasses, and took her jacket off to place around the back of one of the chairs. There were no paintings but on the far wall there were some black-and white-framed photographs. Oddly there were three white oblong canvasses with large black dates painted on two and the third was empty. Jane moved closer to look at the photographs. One was of a mangled car and printed beneath it ‘Silver Porsche 550 Spyder sports car 1955 James Dean.’ Another photograph was of Dexter wearing a ski suit, carrying a set of skis with another older man, laughing.

‘Dinner’s served!’ Dexter said, carrying in a tray made up of the fish and chips on white plates, a large tomato ketchup container, and the bottle of wine. He had two mats and napkins and deftly flicked them down onto the table.

‘Sit down, and mind out… the plates are hot.’ He quickly put one plate on each of the mats.

Jane sat down as Dexter poured the wine, then sat at the end of the table.

‘Cheers!’ he said, lifting his glass.

She was trying hard to think what to say. She felt so out of her depth and uncomfortable, but he was completely relaxed. He proffered the ketchup and she shook her head, so he poured a large dollop on the side of his plate and started to eat.

‘You have an amazing flat,’ she said.

‘Thanks. How’s your new flatmate getting along?’

‘Pearl? She’s fine. She was at home when I left, watching Coronation Street. To be honest, I don’t know if it’ll work out. We seem quite different now she’s moved in.’

‘You were wise to have her checked out first… you have to take precautions and you did the right thing. I hope you also make a note of any odd phone calls, and look out for anyone loitering near your flat…’

‘I do… and I appreciate DCI Church is also looking out for me. I even checked with Pearl’s previous landlady and Madame Tussauds, where she works. There was no connection to any Irish background and her family come from Southport…’

‘So, she works at Madame Tussauds?’

‘Yes, she does the guided tours.’

‘You know there was an IRA bomb there in 1974, but a coded warning was sent and they managed to evacuate the premises just before it exploded.

Jane looked shocked, ‘Oh, my God, I had forgotten about that! She never mentioned it.’

‘It’s easy to get a bit blasé, we have so many bomb scares in London nowadays.’

Jane ate sparingly. She was nervous and was still trying to make polite conversation.

‘In comparison to your place, my flat would probably fit into one room! How many bedrooms have you got?’

‘Just one. I had two, but knocked them together. It’s not what I would call guest-friendly… well, not for my mates anyway.’ He smiled. ‘By the way, I had Daphne’s friend, Raymond Brocklesby, checked out. He’s quite a character… been married twice and inherited a fortune when he was in his thirties. He’s also a highly-decorated war hero, but he’s now living in sheltered accommodation as he has Parkinson’s. He’s wealthy enough to have bought his own mobility car and have it adapted to his specifications. He’s got quite a lengthy paragraph in Who’s Who.

Jane was beginning to relax now they were on a subject that she could interact with him on.

‘When I told Daphne we had met him, she wasn’t at all happy we’d been in her flat. She said we should have asked her permission to collect her reading glasses.’

‘We were just being cautious… but I think we’ve kept her well under wraps so far.’

‘She mentioned both you and Crowley spent time with her last night? I thought it was just Crowley.’

Dexter nodded, and poured more tomato ketchup onto his plate. ‘Sorry, I thought I said it was both of us. It was after I had the row with him about you and the artist’s sketch. Crowley wanted to pop in and explain what was happening. She was rather high on morphine, but she’s exceptionally intelligent and, considering what she’s been through, she’s amazing.’

‘Did she give you a description of the man she saw?’

‘Yes. Like she told you, it was different from the artist’s impression. Daphne took great delight in pointing that out to Crowley.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He told her it was possible there were two IRA men working together at the tube station… she saw one and you the other. Anyway, she agreed to an artist’s impression being made of the man she saw. Crowley’s organising it.’

‘So Crowley’s still saying that the man in the artist’s impression is the Covent Garden bomber? Even though Daphne and I have both said it isn’t?’

‘Well, either way, it doesn’t matter now. Crowley can’t issue a press release saying the artist’s impression was wrong and that the Covent Garden team could have been two men and a woman. Whoever the bastards are, they could still be around in London, feeling confident that we haven’t identified them. IRA members don’t fit a single defined stereotype; they come to London under the guise of looking for work, rent flats to live in and store nitro-glycerine and other equipment in a bedroom. What we also need to try and trace is the contact he made in the telephone box… all we know is that she was a woman with a fancy headscarf, but we can’t even be sure she had anything to do with it as we only have one witness who came forward.’

‘So the witness definitely didn’t see the face of the woman in the phone box? And she didn’t see our suspect approach her?’

‘No. The phone-box witness only saw the headscarf with Red Setters on it and the leather gloves she was wearing. Typical woman, she can describe the Hermès scarf and remember the gloves, but she can’t give any useful information after that… no description of her face or height.’ He stopped to take a sip of wine, then continued, ‘Can you take me through what you saw again… maybe something has jogged your mind since we were at Covent Garden?’

‘Being a typical woman, I haven’t recalled anything that I haven’t said already.’

‘I’m not having a go, Jane, it’s just that traumatic things we see or experience are put to the back of our mind. They’re in there somewhere and all I want to do is help you remember. So far, Daphne was the only one who saw him leave the bag by the ticket booth and the only one who can identify him when he’s arrested.’

‘If I’d seen his face I would have immediately told DCI Crowley or you. It all happened very quickly… a minute maybe, before that big man moved in front of me and the bomb exploded… He saved my life, whether he knew it or not. There is nothing more I can add to what I have already said repeatedly. If there was, believe me, you would be the first person I’d tell.’

Jane had only eaten half of her fish and chips but Dexter had wolfed down everything on his plate. He said nothing as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. She tried to think up something else to say, and turned to the three oblong canvases.

‘I’m interested in those dates… what do they mean?’

He looked over at them. ‘The first one, 22 November 1963… you should know that?’

Jane shrugged.

‘It’s the date JFK was assassinated.’

‘Oh.’

‘The other one, 5 August 1962, is when Marilyn Monroe died.’

‘Oh, really? And the blank one?’

‘Well, that could be mine.’ He laughed.

‘I don’t think that’s funny… it’s sort of tempting fate.’

‘I do that for a living. They’re just people that I admire. Well, I admire JFK, and Marilyn is my perfect woman… sexy, that great blonde curly hair, and she was a lot brighter than anyone ever gave her credit for. “If you can make a woman laugh you can make her do anything.” She said that.’

Jane flushed, and sipped her wine as Dexter drained his glass and poured himself another.

‘James Dean’s Porsche was stolen from an exhibition and never recovered… some ghoulish fan has to have it hidden somewhere, but that picture was taken at the scene when he crashed it and was found mangled. It’s my dream car… a big step up from my 1965 911 Carrera.’

He got up to take her plate and stacked it on top of his. ‘Right, I can offer you coffee or cheese? I might have some ice cream.’

‘I’m fine, thank you. Let me help you.’

‘No, stay put, I won’t be a moment.’

‘Actually, could I use the bathroom?’

‘Sure, first door on the left in the hall and through the bedroom.’

The bedroom was as immaculate as the rest of the flat. A bright Mexican rug with a fringe was thrown across the huge double bed. Beside the white fitted wardrobes, a section of low shelves held an electric typewriter and stacks of A4 paper, in front of which stood a leather chair. Next to the bed was a small steel table with a silver Anglepoise lamp, an empty ashtray and a large alarm clock. There were no mirrors or ornaments, and the room was devoid of pictures and photographs. The en-suite bathroom was tiled from floor to ceiling in white. There was a separate shower in a glass booth, next to a free-standing claw foot bath, and a washbasin set in white marble. Above the basin was a large, mirror-fronted cabinet.

Jane eased the cabinet door open. An array of shampoos, deodorants, shaving equipment and aftershave faced her. Oddly there was also a large bottle of Dior perfume. The toilet was set back in an alcove with a bidet next to it. Jane washed her hands and dried them on the pristine white hand towel that was hanging on a heated rail besides thick white bath towels. On the back of the bathroom door were two towelling bathrobes. The smaller one had the belt tied around it, as if it was from a hotel, but the larger one was open and left loose.

Jane went back into the main room to find Dexter lounging on one of the sofas, smoking a cigarette and dangling his glass of wine. He had refilled her glass, which was now on the glass coffee table opposite the other sofa.

‘This place is incredible. Have you lived here a long time?’

‘No, only about six months. It took a year of refurbishment before I moved in. It was a dump when I bought it.’

Jane nodded and smiled. She would have liked to ask how he could afford it on his salary. He must have a wealthy family.

‘Did you design everything, to get it the way you wanted?’

‘Yes and no. I hate clutter and small spaces, so I got an architect to draw up the plans, and a girlfriend helped furnish it and buy some of the stuff. She used to live in Mexico, so this carpet was a housewarming gift, and I brought back the throw in my bedroom from Acapulco.’

Jane sipped her wine. ‘Do you still see her?’

‘Occasionally, when she’s in town. What about you?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes, what about you?’

‘Well, there’s not a lot to tell you really… I was a probationary officer at Hackney, then I moved to Bow Street Station…’

‘I didn’t mean your career, I meant what about your personal life?’

‘Oh, I’ve sort of concentrated on my career. I have a sister, Pam, and my parents live in Maida Vale.’

‘So, no relationship?’

‘Not at the moment.’

It felt as if he was interrogating her and it made her uncomfortable — even more so when he eased himself off the sofa. She thought for a moment he was going to come and sit beside her, but instead he walked to the table and picked up her jacket.

‘I should run you home. I’ve got an early start in the morning, unless you’ve changed your mind about wanting a coffee?’

Jane sprang up. ‘No, really… I should be getting off. It’s been a really nice evening, and very kind of you.’

Dexter moved behind her and held out her jacket. As she slipped her arms through the sleeves, he gently eased her hair away from under the collar, softly touching her neck. He smiled.

‘You have lovely skin, Detective Tennison.’

She blushed at the compliment. Her heart was beating rapidly as she picked up her handbag. Taking her hand, Dexter led her out into the hall.

As they drove back to her flat, Jane wished she could think of something to say. Dexter chatted away, saying that next time he would attempt to cook for her instead of buying fish and chips. Before she knew it, they had pulled up in front of her building and Dexter had switched off the engine. He casually rested his arm along the back of her seat.

‘Goodnight. I’ll probably see you at the lab some time.’

Jane smiled and moved to open the door but Dexter used his free arm to reach across her and open it. She now had both his arms around her, and he kissed her cheek as the door swung open. Then he climbed out and went around to the passenger door to help her out.

‘Goodnight, and thank you again.’ She hesitated. ‘Perhaps I could cook dinner for you one evening.’

‘That would be nice… I’ll look forward to it.’

As Dexter revved up the engine and drove off, Jane sighed. Considering that she couldn’t cook, had never entertained anyone for dinner, and lived in a tiny flat that stank of Pearl’s cabbage soup, it could be a very embarrassing evening.

Jane waved to the SPG officers opposite, and walked slowly up the stairs. At least the awful smell of cabbage had faded. She unlocked her front door and dropped her key down on the small table by the telephone. A note was on top of the receiver: Natalie called again. Jane picked up the note and walked into her bedroom. She took off her jacket and tossed it onto her bed, wishing that she’d worn something less boring. It was old-fashioned and the matching trousers were now creased. She unzipped them and kicked them off. She looked at herself in the mirror and decided that on her first weekend off she would ask Pam to cut her hair and put some highlights in it.

Still feeling disgruntled, she took off her make-up, brushed her teeth and went to bed. She closed her eyes and, unable to sleep straightaway, thought about the evening. She was disappointed at herself for being so overwhelmed. She had never met anyone like Alan Dexter, or been entertained in such an elegant and tasteful flat. She was also surprised and how attractive she found him. She felt as if she had behaved like a besotted teenager, and was now even more confused. Why had he been so attentive? Perhaps he was monitoring her, to try to find out if there was anything more she could add to her statement? She dismissed the thought. She was being paranoid. Dexter had no need to go to such lengths to get her to repeat everything she knew about the Covent Garden bomb. Increasingly restless, Jane couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had touched her neck, and then kissed her. She wondered what it would be like to lie next to him in his big double bed and feel that gentle touch over her entire body. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep.

Jane was woken by the deafening sound of Pearl’s alarm clock in the next bedroom. It sounded as if she was lying next to Big Ben. By the time she had wrapped a robe around herself and gone into the kitchen Pearl was sitting eating her bowl of muesli, with a glass of awful-looking green liquid.

‘Morning! Your friend Natalie called again. She’s quite persistent, isn’t she?’

‘I saw your message… We were friends at training school. She left the police and we lost contact until recently. I expect she just wants to catch up. How come you’re up so early?’

‘I thought I might have a jog in the park before I go into work.’

‘Oh, that’s nice.’ Jane put the kettle on and got out the tin of instant coffee, spooning two heaps into a mug.

‘Did you have a nice time last night?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘You know,’ Pearl said as Jane filled her mug, ‘that stuff is full of preservatives… and you shouldn’t use sweeteners. They’re not good for you either.’

‘I know. I couldn’t face that seaweed thing you’re drinking, not first thing in the morning.’

‘You get used to it… and it gives me so much energy.’

Jane made no reply and walked back to her bedroom. It was six thirty and she decided she’d have another half an hour in bed. She heard Pearl leaving and felt irritated that she was out jogging as she knew that she should do some exercise herself, but all she could think of was going out to buy some new clothes and making a hair appointment for the weekend.

It was just after eight when a sweating, panting, Pearl returned and went into the bathroom to run a bath. Jane had fortunately already dressed and was ready to leave for work when the phone rang.

‘Hi, is that Jane?’

‘Yes, who’s this?’

‘It’s Natalie… I’m sorry if I’ve called too early but I have to go to work and wanted to catch you. I rang last night and someone else answered, but I was worried they might not have passed on the message.’

‘I’m sorry, I was out and didn’t get back until late. I was going to call you later.’

‘Well, perhaps we can we meet up? Are you free this evening?’

‘Yes, I should be home around seven.’

‘Why don’t we meet up at eight? I can come to you, or you could come over to my place?’

Pearl banged out of the steam-filled bathroom and Jane covered the phone.

‘Are you home this evening, Pearl?’

‘Yes… be here about six.’

Jane nodded and uncovered the mouthpiece to speak to Natalie. ‘Why don’t I come to you… whereabouts do you live?’

‘My flat’s in Belsize Park, but I work in Marble Arch. I finish work at five. Where do you live?’

‘I’m near Baker Street.’

‘Well, I can come over to you if it’ll be more convenient. Do you know somewhere we can eat?’

Jane hesitated. She hadn’t had time to explore the area and wasn’t sure where to suggest. ‘Er… there’s an Italian restaurant not far from the underground station… It’s called Fratelli’s. I haven’t actually tried it, but it looks OK.’

‘Why don’t we meet up there then?’

Natalie was being very persistent. Jane felt she couldn’t get out of it.

‘All right, eight this evening, then?’

‘Great! I’m really looking forward to seeing you, and chatting about old times.’

Jane replaced the receiver. She’d planned to have an early night, but it would be rude not to go for dinner with Natalie, especially as she hadn’t returned her calls, and Natalie was so keen to catch up with her. Pearl came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her wet hair.

‘I couldn’t borrow your hairdryer again, could I? By the way, Fratelli’s is a nice restaurant and very reasonable. I’ve often eaten there, as they do a special lunch price.’

Jane fetched her hairdryer and handed to Pearl.

‘Do you mind just leaving it in the kitchen? I’m sorry but I don’t really like you going into my bedroom.’

Pearl shrugged. ‘Fine by me. Thanks, and I’ll see you later.’

Jane fetched her coat and handbag. She was feeling irritated and slammed out of the flat to walk to Baker Street.

As usual it was a lengthy journey across London to Woolwich, but Jane’s initial irritability gradually subsided as she joined two junior trainee scientists and a female clerical officer in the canteen. They were having a conversation about all the scientists and officers, giving them marks out of ten for sexual attractiveness. Jane felt rather annoyed by their discussion, but took an interest when they started talking about Dexter. He was rated as a ten plus.

A very skinny, petite girl with incredibly thick hair was eating a bowl of rice pudding, wafting her spoon around.

‘I think he’s gorgeous… very sexy… but there’s something sort of detached about him. I was told he gets any female he wants. He’s very wealthy… his older brother was killed in a skiing accident so when his father died he inherited a fortune. His ex-girlfriend — who he lived with in Mexico — is the daughter of some famous artist. And he’s a bit of a rarity: he’s the only serving police officer who is also part of the bomb disposal unit. I was told he was in the Royal Army Ordinance Corps as an explosives officer and was initially trained by the now head of the Met’s bomb disposal unit. Dexter was exceptional at what he did during army service and received gallantry awards for bomb disposal. That’s why he’s shit hot here… after a few years’ service he was transferred to the bomb squad thanks to his knowledge of disarming explosives. He can disarm me any day!’ She laughed.

Jane couldn’t resist asking, ‘Have you been out with him?’

‘Chance’d be a fine thing! Although I think he’s got quite a lot of baggage… but that doesn’t make him any the less attractive. Mind you I couldn’t go out with someone who does a dangerous job like his… I heard someone in the lab say Dexter has a death wish.’

One of the other girls, who had been eating throughout the entire conversation, looked up. ‘I had a one night stand with him,’ she said. ‘I’d do it again, but when that Mexican woman is in town he just drops you… so I’m going to drop his mark to a seven.’ She laughed as she glanced at Jane. ‘Crowley got a minus four!’

Jane said nothing as the skinny girl pushed the remains of her rice pudding around the bowl and asked if anyone wanted a tea or coffee. None of them had seen Dexter walking up to stand behind them. He rested his hand on Jane’s shoulder.

‘Hello, Jane. So what’s this about Crowley being a minus four?’

There was an embarrassing pause. Jane had to bite her bottom lip hard to stop giggling, as the other girls flushed and jumped to their feet.

‘Oh, nothing,’ the skinny girl said. ‘Er… we’re going to get coffee. Do you want one?’

‘No, thanks, I’m just looking for Lawrence but he doesn’t seem to be here.’

Jane was left alone with Dexter, and he sat down next to her. She could see the other girls at the coffee counter whispering, then turning to look towards their table.

‘I didn’t think you were the giggling type. What’s so funny?’

‘They were marking all the men here out of ten, for sexual attraction.’

‘Really? So, tell me, how many points did they allocate to me?’

‘You did very well… you started with a ten but then dropped to a seven. I was just listening in, not taking part.’

‘What score would you give me?’

It was Jane’s turn to blush. She shrugged and Dexter leaned in closer.

‘Go on, tell me.’

‘I’d say you were easily a ten… but then, I’m biased. You bought me fish and chips.’

He stood up, smiling, and pushed the chair beneath the table. Then he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

‘Thank you, DC Tennison, that’s really made my day.’

Dexter walked off and, rather than get into any further conversation with the two girls, Jane took her crockery and cutlery to the wash bowl provided for everyone to deposit their used dishes. She didn’t escape as the girls caught up with her as she was stacking her tray.

‘How much did he overhear?’ the skinny girl asked nervously.

‘Just the bit about Crowley… I told him it was a joke.’

‘Oh.’

They looked at each other as Jane started to walk off, because they had seen Dexter kissing her cheek.

‘Another one bites the dust…’

Jane turned and glared at them.

‘If you are referring to me, I resent that remark. We are working together, nothing more. You should grow up and stop gossip-mongering.’

They watched her heading out of the canteen and nudged each other.

‘Well, I’d say the lady doth protest too much! We need to be careful what we say around her… she’s obviously smitten.’

Jane banged through the doors of the canteen and bumped into DS Lawrence. He threw up his hands.

‘It’s bloody unbelievable, that guy needs someone to straighten him out!’

‘Who are you talking about?’

‘Bloody Dexter, he thrives on risk-taking and thinks he’s indestructible. He’s nabbed a disarming device I’d left in the lab to test.’

‘He was in the canteen a minute ago…’

‘I’ll go find him. We are all on tenterhooks and he’s playing silly buggers with untested equipment. If you ask me he has a death wish.’

‘You know, maybe he lives life to the full because he knows each day could be his last, and every time there is a warning call from the IRA he could be killed disarming one of their bombs.’

‘I doubt it,’ whispered Lawrence. ‘His best pal, who went in ahead of him to assess the bomb at Selfridges, was killed when it exploded. Dexter’s got some guardian angel sitting on his shoulder.’

‘I hope so,’ Jane said quietly, then asked Lawrence what he wanted her to do for the day.

‘The victims’ clothing needs bagging and tagging… if you don’t mind doing that. Everything’s hanging up in the drying room down the corridor.’ He pointed to a room on the left.

Jane knew that much of the clothing was heavily bloodstained. It wasn’t a job she relished doing, but she was determined to show willing. Paul handed her the key and she unlocked the door. There were no windows in the drying room; it was in total darkness and felt like an eerie sauna. Jane switched on the neon strip lighting, which flickered for a few seconds before illuminating the room. She inhaled deeply at the sight of the torn and tattered bloodstained clothing hanging from washing lines strung up around the room. Her eyes instantly caught sight of a bloodstained Babygro, and for a moment she was back at Covent Garden, hearing the child’s muffled cries. She relived carrying the pushchair up the stairs, then less than a minute later turning the seriously injured mother over. The sight of the baby beneath its mother, covered in blood, and the weight of the baby in her arms.

Jane unpegged the Babygro from the washing line. She held it tightly in her hands and the good smell it made was like sweet pancakes and a cup of warm milk. The musty smell of dry blood then came through and the grit from the explosion rubbed against her hands. It was wretchedly sad. The child would never know its mother.