Good Friday

Chapter Twelve

Jane walked into the Italian restaurant and asked for a table for two. She’d arranged to meet Natalie at eight and had arrived a bit early to ensure she could get in. The tables were covered in red-and-white checked tablecloths, and in the centre of each was an empty Chianti bottle with a candle stuck into the top. A long counter displayed breads and sweet pastries, together with a vast display of cheeses, on the other side of which a dark-haired man was busy cutting wafer-thin slices of cured ham.

Jane opened the menu. There was a lunch menu on one side, then the dinner menu and specials were on a thick laminated page on the other side. It was exactly eight when Natalie walked in. Seeing Jane sitting at the side of the room, she waved and walked over to join her. She tossed a stylish thick, wool jacket over the back of her chair, and tucked her soft leather clutch bag under the table as she sat down.

‘It’s not very posh,’ Jane said.

‘It’s fine… I love Italian food. Have you decided what you want to order?’ Natalie said as she took off her gloves and placed them on the table.

Jane noticed the checked lining. ‘I like your gloves,’ she said. ‘Are they Burberry?’

‘Yes. Christmas present from an old flame. I never spend that much money on gloves.’

‘I think I might have the tomato and basil soup, followed by spaghetti bolognese… unless you’re not having a starter?’

As Natalie looked over the menu Jane admired her pale denim shirt, tight jeans and cowboy boots. Jane thought to herself that as well as getting Pam to cut her hair she’d do some clothes shopping.

‘I’ll have the minestrone, and then the chicken with garlic and mashed potatoes… or maybe the cannelloni.’ Natalie turned to attract the waitress’s attention.

‘Is the cannelloni freshly made on the premises?’

‘Yes, we make all the pasta dishes here… my father is the chef.’ The waitress nodded to the dark-haired man behind the counter.

They ordered their food, and a bottle of Pinot Noir. Natalie smiled at Jane.

‘Isn’t this nice! On my way here I was trying to calculate just how long it’s been… you don’t look all that different.’

‘I remember you used to have very long hair.’

‘Oh God, yes! I had this terrible perm and it went like a frizzy mop, so I had it cut really short, you know that sort of pixie cut… but it didn’t really suit me, so I’ve let it grow a bit.’

‘I was thinking of getting my sister to cut mine, and give me some highlights… I’ve not really taken that much interest in my hairstyle, and always used to put it in a pleat under my police hat. But it was a relief when I came out of uniform. Those policewomen’s hats are not very flattering, and the uniform was continually having to be brushed down and dry cleaned, shirts starched, tie in place…’

‘And those black stockings and awful police-issue shoes,’ agreed Natalie. ‘But you know, I was really heartbroken when I was kicked out of Hendon. Truthfully, I don’t think I would have made the grade, though. Where were you posted to when you came out?’

‘Hackney… one of the toughest areas. Didn’t really have too much time to think about it as I was thrown into the deep end. There was only one other uniformed WPC there.’

Jane was relieved when the waitress came to the table and uncorked the wine, as she didn’t want to get into a discussion about Kath Morgan’s death. Natalie took a small sip of the wine to taste it and nodded in approval.

‘This isn’t too heavy… light and not too fruity.’

The waitress filled their glasses and placed the bottle in the centre of the table. Jane sipped the wine and nodded.

‘Mmm, it is very nice. So, what did you do after you left Hendon?’

‘I did a course in accountancy. I worked in a couple of firms at a low level, but it was so boring… and you know it takes ages to qualify as a fully-fledged accountant. Then I applied for a job on a cruise liner.’ She laughed. ‘I thought it would be a cheap way of seeing the world… but, my God, they worked my socks off. I saw the West Indies, and the Bahamas and the Virgin Isles, but nothing ever prepares you for the pettiness of the crews. And most of the guests on board treat you like a glorified waitress and cleaner.’

At this point their starters arrived. Two more customers came in and were seated as another couple left. The restaurant was still only a quarter full. As they ate Jane gave a brief outline of how she had moved from Hackney to Bow Street and succeeded in qualifying for CID.

‘CID… wow! That’s terrific! Do you deal with murder enquiries?’

‘I have done. But there’s a lot of discrimination in the Met. You learn to deal with it.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, women often get sidelined, or given incredibly boring enquiries… even on murder cases you end up doing tedious paperwork. I remember when I was a probationer it felt like I was nothing more than wallpaper. Only useful for making teas and coffees. It’s better now I’m a detective, but it’s still there.’

‘It’s the same at the bank. Some of the clerks and bank managers I’ve had to deal with would make your hair stand on end… so rigid, and obsessive timekeepers. God forbid that you should make the smallest error… all hell breaks loose.’

‘So, do you live with someone? Are you married?’ Jane asked.

‘I have lived with a few men, and when I was on the cruise ships I was quite naughty… but I haven’t found the right one yet. What about you?’

‘There’s nobody, really. I’ve just rented out the spare room in my flat.’

Jane went on to describe Pearl Radcliff and her vegetarian diet, and relayed the story about asking her if she had many belongings — ‘and now the spare bedroom looks like a book depository,’ she finished. Natalie swapped stories of previous girls she had shared with, making Jane laugh when she told her about one girl who had so many boyfriends coming and going, and that eventually she had found out she was a complete nymphomaniac.

‘Her name was Françoise, and she came from a very upper-class family… I think they owned vineyards in the South of France because she always had loads of money. She made model airplanes, and would spend hours gluing and using thin wires to hang them from her bedroom ceiling. I asked her if she was interested in flying and she said they represented her lovers! Anyway, one time she brought back this handsome chap and kept on saying that he was the one… then she made this small helicopter and pinned it up! So, he was gone and eventually I had to ask her to leave.’

By the time their main course arrived they had drunk almost the entire bottle of wine. Natalie was very complimentary about her cannelloni, explaining how difficult it was to roll the light pastry around the meat and make the rich tomato sauce.

‘I love cooking, and I have to say that I’m not too bad… I even did a Cordon Bleu cookery course, because I really like experimenting and trying out new dishes. Do you like Indian food?’

Jane shrugged, saying that she was embarrassed at how hopeless she was in the kitchen. ‘When I’m at work, or was living in the section house, I always ate in the canteen. My mother’s a good cook… did it all when I lived at home… you know, big roast dinners on a Sunday. I can just about boil or scramble an egg with some bacon. I’ve never tried anything fancy… there are blokes at work who know more about cooking than me.

‘Well, I am going to change that, Jane Tennison! I’m going to give you a beginner’s course in some basic culinary dishes. What are you doing this weekend?’

‘Well, I’ve planned to see my sister tomorrow…’

‘Why don’t you come over on Sunday? I’ll do a grocery shop tomorrow and we can cook lunch together.’

Natalie was wonderful company and Jane realised that she had never had a close girlfriend. She felt so at ease with her, and readily accepted her offer of a cooking lesson.

By the time they had both had coffee and a delicious sweet honey pastry each, they had agreed to meet on Sunday. Natalie wrote down her address in Belsize Park and insisted that Jane come by early so she could start the cookery lesson.

‘It’s just a garden flat in the basement, so don’t be too excited. I’m going to insist I pay for our dinner tonight, and you can pay the next time we eat out. But I’m hoping you’ll be able to invite me to your place to meet your vegetarian Pearl, and then cook for me.’

They were the last customers to leave the restaurant, and the closed sign was flipped over on the main door. As they headed out into the street towards Baker Street station, they paused at the traffic lights.

‘This is where I head back to Melcombe Street,’ Jane said.

‘I had a great evening. See you Sunday,’ Natalie replied. She gave Jane a hug and kissed her on the cheek before hurrying across the road.

Jane was just turning away when a highly polished black Jaguar pulled up at the red traffic light. Jane wouldn’t have noticed the vehicle and its occupants, but for the face in the passenger window. Jane instantly recognised Regina Hernandez, the young girl she had rescued on her first day with the Dip Squad. Regina looked like a startled fawn. As the lights turned to green Jane, hardly believing what she was doing, flagged down a cab.

‘Can you follow that black Jaguar.’

‘Lost your boyfriend, have yer?’ The cab driver smirked as Jane got in.

‘I’m a police officer.’

‘Right, luv, doing an Agatha Christie, are you? I’ll follow it.’

From the back seat, Jane watched as the Jaguar drove along Regent Street, crossing straight over Oxford Circus they passed the London Palladium Theatre’s billboards and then Liberty, taking a right at Brook Street. The cab driver, half turned to Jane, ‘Do you know where your friends are going, luv?’

‘No, I don’t.’ Jane said, wondering if the driver of the Jaguar suspected he was being followed or was unfamiliar with the area.

‘Well, I hope they’re not a sightseeing tour! That looks like a courtesy car.’

‘Just keep following, please.’ Part of Jane was uncertain she had even recognised Regina. As they approached Grosvenor Square and headed into the traffic in Park Lane, they were directly behind the Jaguar and when it stopped abruptly outside the Playboy Club, the cab driver almost drove into the back of it.

‘Did you see that? No indication he was stopping!’

Jane already had her wallet open. Ahead, she saw a man in a shiny suit get out and open the passenger door. Dressed in a plunging top, tight-fitting sequined mini skirt, high-heeled silver sandals and a white fox fur wrap, the fifteen-year-old Hernandez girl did not look her age.

‘Could you wait for me?’

‘No, luv, I can’t park out here. Just pay me off. It’s four pounds.’

Jane thrust a five-pound note at the driver just as the Jaguar pulled away from the pavement. The Playboy Club’s black gleaming door opened as Jane ran towards Regina. That was the moment she saw that the man ushering the frightened girl in front of him was Regina’s uncle, Andres Hernandez. The club door closed and the doorman barred the entrance.

‘I need to speak to that girl.’

‘Members only,’ the bouncer replied without looking at Jane.

‘You don’t understand… it is very important that I speak to that young girl. She’s underage.’

‘You got a membership card, luv?’

‘No, but—’

‘Then you ain’t getting in.’

Jane got out her warrant card, ‘I’m a detective with the Metropolitan Police.’

‘So are quite a few people in there… and a lot more senior than you, sweetheart. Shall I go disturb a commander and get him to come and have a word with you, or would you like to toddle off and get a warrant?’

It was pointless to argue with the doorman. She suspected he was right: there were probably a few senior police officers in the club and they wouldn’t take kindly to being disturbed by the likes of a detective constable. Deciding to give up, she headed home.

Jane woke up early the following morning and walked to the nearest laundrette, which was on Edgware Road. She couldn’t wash bed linen in the flat as there was only a small washing machine and no tumble dryer. As she waited for the dryer to finish she was haunted by Regina’s scared face as she was pulled into the club. She hurried home and was glad to see that Pearl had already left to visit her parents in Southport. She called DCI Church. He wasn’t in his office, but she spoke to Stanley, who seemed almost to live in the squalid office.

‘There’s something going on, Stanley. Last night I was in Baker Street and I saw this very polished black Jaguar… It might be a courtesy car the Playboy Club provide for its clients.’

‘So?’

‘She was sitting in the back seat.’

‘Who are you talking about?’

‘Regina Hernandez.’

‘What?’

‘I haven’t finished yet, Stanley. The man who took her into the Playboy Club was that Andres Hernandez who they say was her uncle. I was told that she was being looked after! Stanley, she is only fifteen and was dressed like a hooker and I’m certain that the club management would be wary of allowing an underage girl into the premises. She’s too young to even be allowed to drink, never mind go into a casino.’

‘Did you make a note of the Jag’s licence plate?’

‘Yes, I did.’ Jane repeated it. ‘The taxi driver suggested it might be a courtesy car.’

‘Where does the taxi driver fit into this?’

‘I told you, when I saw Regina in the car, I hailed a taxi and followed it from Baker Street.’

‘Right, I’ll pass this on to the Vice Squad and just before you hang up, Jane, do you mind if I give you a little word of advice? I wouldn’t try to claim your cab fare on expenses. You were told this was no longer connected to us and you don’t want to piss DCI Church off.’

‘Thank you for the warning,’ Jane said shortly.

Feeling dispirited after her conversation with Stanley, Jane drove to her parents’ flat in Maida Vale. It was just after one when she arrived, and they were delighted to see her. They made such a fuss of her that she felt guilty for not having been to see them before. Her father didn’t speak about the events at Covent Garden, but did say that DCI Church had been to visit them again and left contact numbers in case they had any enquiries.

‘Mr Church said they were all taking good care of you,’ her father said, when her mother went out of the room. ‘He was considerate and supportive, and explained the situation. Mum and I are proud of you, Jane, but I’d rather hear it from you… Are you coping?’

‘Yes, on the whole, but there are moments when it’s hard to focus. Please don’t tell Mum…’

‘You know I won’t, Jane.’

‘I had to bag and tag the victims’ clothing the other day. There was a mother who was killed at the scene, but her baby survived. I had to bag the mother’s torn, bloodstained clothes and the child’s Babygro, which had the mother’s blood on it… I found it really upsetting.’

Mr Tennison hugged his daughter. ‘Your job is really harrowing at times… you are very brave and I admire you… so does your mother, but sometimes she’s not much good at showing it.’

Her mother was cooking a leg of lamb with all the trimmings. Jane offered to help but as usual her mother refused, as she hated anyone getting under her feet in the kitchen.

‘Does Pam know how to cook, Mum?’

‘Good heavens, no! Poor Tony gets more takeaways than he ever has a good cooked meal. Why do you ask?’

‘I’ve lived off canteen food for too long. Now I’ve got a place of my own I’d like to fend for myself on something more substantial than eggs and bacon.’

Mrs Tennison laughed. ‘I was self-taught, dear. Practise is what makes a good cook. Mind you, I burnt a few things and used the wrong ingredients to start with. I’ll give you some of my cookery books to take with you. The Fanny Craddock one is good — you know, the woman who’s always on TV, with the monocled husband? They’re a good double act, a bit like me and your dad.’

They didn’t eat lunch until after two, then sat watching TV whilst Mrs Tennison told Jane that they had booked a two-week cruise. Jane was astonished, even more so when they said they were going to Norway. She could hardly believe they were being such adventurists. They talked about her new flatmate and Mrs Tennison was relieved that Jane was no longer living on her own. Her father was also relieved that the rent was being paid in, and Jane was repaying his deposit loan towards her mortgage.

It was five thirty when Jane left and drove to the salon, hoping that Pam might be able to cut her hair and do some highlight streaks. Pam was obviously tired after a long and busy day but she made Jane a cup of coffee whilst she finished her last client. By the time Jane was in the chair, it was after six. Pam put on a rubber cap, and pulled strands of Jane’s hair through the small holes before she layered the bleach, using square-cut sections of tin foil. It had to be left on for twenty minutes so Pam pulled up a stool and sat beside Jane.

‘I’m still not pregnant… but it’s not for lack of trying!’ She gave a soft laugh, but Jane could tell she was not happy.

‘Maybe if you didn’t worry so much?’

‘But I can’t help it… we want a baby more than anything. Every month I take a test, and it’s so depressing when it’s negative.’

Eventually Pam washed Jane’s hair and cut two inches off before blow-drying it with a large bristle brush into a short pageboy style. She refused to charge her, but Jane insisted that she take ten pounds. She wasn’t sure about the way Pam had styled her hair, and it looked much blonder, but she thought that after she had played around with it, it would look more to her satisfaction.

Jane decided to have an early night, and was looking forward to seeing Natalie again in the morning. She was glad that she had seen her parents and Pam, and felt more relaxed after all the security precautions and pressure she had been under. She didn’t get home until after eight, parking her car a short distance from her flat and getting the usual nod from the plain-clothes officers on watch as she opened the front door. Crowley, for all his tough, blustering manner, had kept his word when he’d told her father he intended to maintain the protection until the ASU members were arrested.

At eleven o’clock the following morning, Jane drove to Natalie’s via St John’s Wood and into Belsize Avenue. She managed to park close to number 44 and walked up to the large, imposing, four-storey house, then descended the steps to the basement.

Natalie opened the front door almost immediately after Jane pressed the doorbell. She was barefooted and wearing an apron over her jeans and T-shirt.

‘Hi there! You found me… come on in.’

Jane wished she’d bought a bunch of flowers, but it hadn’t occurred to her. Natalie seemed so pleased to see her, helping her off with her coat and hanging it on a hook in the narrow hallway.

‘It’s small, but it’s all my own.’ Natalie said, as she drew Jane into a lovely living room with French windows overlooking steps up to a walled garden.

The living room was full, with bright, fabric-covered chairs and a two-seater sofa by a low pine coffee table. There was a fireplace with wooden logs and a coal bucket beside it. The walls were lined with bookshelves and there was a cabinet filled with pottery, coloured glass miniatures and rows of wine glasses. There were some rather amateurish oil paintings, and stacks of magazines. It was a warm and cosy room. Natalie had lit some scented candles and the glow and smell made the room feel welcoming.

Natalie opened the French windows and stepped outside. Stone steps led up to a flourishing plant bed and there was a bench and wooden table. Numerous pot plants were placed around, containing herbs and bulbs, but a lot of the flowering plants were no longer in season. On the table there were empty bottles of wine holding melted candles, and the paved area had moss growing between the cracks. A large oak tree dominated the end of the garden and shaded most of the patio.

‘I eat out here when the weather’s good, but come on back to my favourite place… the kitchen.’

‘How long have you lived here?’ Jane asked, as she followed Natalie back inside.

‘Five years. It needs quite a lot doing to it, and as it’s a basement it gets a bit on the damp side. But I love lighting a fire in the winter, and its cosy which is important to me. I bought most of the furniture second-hand from charity shops.’

They went into the narrow hall and Natalie pointed to a closed door.

‘That’s my bedroom. I have my mother’s old quilt, and my desk and a portable typewriter, but it needs some more wardrobe space. I’ll get it sorted one day.’

She had expected the basement flat to be dark, but when Jane followed Natalie into the kitchen it was surprisingly light.

‘This is the best part. The previous occupant went to great lengths to modernise the kitchen and put in the big window.’

Jane was impressed. The kitchen was painted a bright blue, with a fridge-freezer, large cooker with an extractor hood, and a wide sink with wooden draining boards. There was a painted old-fashioned wide-legged table, with four hard-backed painted chairs with bright cushions on the seats. Tall glass-fronted cabinets were filled with crockery, and wide drawers beneath with cooking equipment.

‘Every available inch has been used for storage. I have a washing machine and dryer tucked in the little recess, so it’s very compact. But as I love cooking I spend most of my time in here.’

‘I think it’s lovely… it has a sort of country cottage feel.’

‘Yes, exactly… you’d never think we were in the basement. I bought it because of the little garden. At one time it must have been three times the size but the properties backing onto it have the rest. I was going to get a cat, but I just never got around to it… like all the redecorating I keep on meaning to do!’

Natalie had fetched two mugs and put the kettle on. As she showed off the kitchen, she brewed up some fresh coffee in a small percolator and opened a tin to take out a packet of biscuits, placing them down on the table.

‘Sit down… We’ll have a cup of coffee and then I can talk you through what you would like to cook for our lunch. I bought a variety of ingredients for you to choose from, but I think we won’t get too extravagant to begin with, and stick to something basic. I’ve got chicken, liver, bacon and some fresh minced beef to maybe make spaghetti bolognese. It depends what you’d like to start off with.’

‘I’m speechless… this is so kind of you! Let’s make spaghetti bolognese as I really love it, but I wouldn’t know where to begin…’

‘Well, we’ll make the sauce first. I’ve got all the tomatoes, onions and garlic, and then we’ve got some fresh pasta.’

Natalie poured them both a coffee, placed milk and sugar on the table and sat opposite Jane. She delved into her pocket and took out a packet of cigarettes.

‘Hope you don’t mind? Do you smoke?’

‘No, I don’t… but please go ahead.’

Natalie took out a long, thin, white-tipped cigarette.

‘I want to give up so I started on these, but I’ve got so used to them. They’re menthol… “Snow-fresh Filter Kool”… it’s sort of like smoking a polo mint.’

She lit up and fetched an ashtray as Jane poured some milk into her coffee and ate a custard cream. Natalie drank her coffee black, and laughed as she added three sugars.

‘I’ve got a terrible sweet tooth… this is very strong Colombian coffee, so I try to limit myself to just a few cups a day.’

‘Do you live here all by yourself?’ Jane asked.

‘Well, most of the time. My last relationship went on for a couple of years… he was very easy-going but this is a tiny flat and even though he only stayed at weekends I was often pleased to have the place back to myself on Mondays.’

‘I was at dinner with a friend the other night, and I’ve never seen such a sophisticated flat. It was a sort of ultra-modern design and was very unexpected. I thought we were going to a restaurant, but after picking up fish and chips he drove us to his flat. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever felt so inadequate, because he was so capable, and…’ She giggled.

‘Why were you feeling inadequate?’

‘Oh, it was just so sophisticated and I’d worn this awful suit, fawn trousers with a safari jacket.’ Jane drained her cup of coffee and continued, ‘I don’t know what made me wear it… I felt so old-fashioned, and couldn’t think of anything interesting to say.’

‘You aren’t old-fashioned at all… I like what you’ve had done to your hair. What does this friend do?’

‘He’s one of the officers, not in the same team, but sort of working alongside me in the Dip Squad.’

‘Dip Squad? What on earth is that?’

Jane stood up abruptly and screeched as her coffee cup turned over. Natalie immediately reached for a napkin as Jane deftly put her hand into Natalie’s handbag, which was on the arm of the dining chair, and took out her wallet and held it up between two fingers.

‘You see, I just got your wallet because I distracted you with my coffee cup. There was no coffee in it.’

There was a beat of an unpleasant moment as Natalie snatched her wallet back. ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

‘I was just dipping you to explain how pickpockets work. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.

Natalie’s face relaxed. ‘Oh no, you haven’t! This dippy squad sounds outrageous. So, tell me, what work does this designer house bloke do?’

‘He’s a DS on the Bomb Squad and he’s got quite a bad reputation when it comes to women. But it’s been extraordinary lately… I’ve gone from having nobody showing the slightest interest in me, to a date with him. And I think my DCI is sort of interested as well. And there’s also a lovely man called Michael Mitchell, who’s a charge nurse at St Thomas’ Hospital, where I met you.’

Natalie rinsed their coffee mugs and began to open cupboards and take out all the ingredients required to make the bolognese sauce.

‘Well, you can now invite any one of them over to your flat to have dinner. My mother always used to say that the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’

Natalie handed Jane an apron, then got out a large chopping board and a sharp knife. Jane watched as Natalie peeled and sliced the onion into fine sections. She showed Jane how to squash and chop garlic cloves and let her have a go at it herself. Natalie got a large pan, poured in some olive oil, turned on the gas and scraped in the garlic and onions from the chopping board. She handed Jane a wooden spoon, told her to keep the gas low and keep stirring until the onions were see-through.

Jane was enjoying herself as Natalie put in the minced meat, then when it was brown she let Jane add some diced tomatoes, herbs and tomato puree, then after giving it a good stir they left it to simmer. Natalie uncorked a bottle of red wine while Jane was stirring the bolognese.

‘I’ve bought freshly made pasta, which will only take about five minutes. You need to test if it is cooked through, but it should be what the Italian’s call “al dente”… slightly firm on the bite.’

Natalie lit another cigarette whilst Jane kept on stirring the sauce, then put the pasta into the boiling water.

‘So, now you know how to make spaghetti bolognese! You should serve it in a bowl with some grated parmesan cheese on top and garlic bread which should be crispy, not soggy when it comes out the oven.’

They both sat at the table with a glass of wine. A large ceramic bowl contained the finished spaghetti bolognese, with two serving spoons beside it. The garlic bread was laid out on a large warmed plate, and looked and smelled delicious.

‘Bon appetit!’ Natalie said, as they clinked glasses. Jane enjoyed everything, and was surprised at how simple it had been to prepare.

‘Thanks, Natalie, I really appreciate you showing me how to cook this… it’s not as difficult as I thought it would be.’

‘Next lesson will be a roast chicken with stuffing. But I think you’ve now learnt enough to entertain your male suitors. So, tell me, which one’s your favourite and what’s he look like?’

‘He’s a detective sergeant, tall, blonde, blue-eyed and drives a Porsche. I don’t think he’s that interested in me, but he might…’ Jane already felt that she had said too much.

Natalie leaned forwards across the table. ‘Did you sleep with him?’

‘No!’

‘What about the other two… the nurse from the hospital?’

‘Good heavens, no! I shouldn’t really even be talking about them.’

‘Why not? What about the DCI… is he sexy?’

Jane felt a trifle uncomfortable.

‘He’s very attractive. There’s a big black-tie event coming up in the CID, and he asked if… well, sort of suggested he accompany me.’

‘Is he married? Are any of them married?’

‘No.’

‘Well, that’s a relief. I had a long scene with a married man and I swore I would never, ever, be dumb enough to do it again. You know, I got the same old story that he was going to leave his wife, but he never did. I don’t think he had any intention of leaving her, but I was very hurt. So, this black-tie do… have you decided what you’re going to wear?’

‘No, I haven’t given it a thought… but it’s full evening gowns so it’ll have to be a long dress.’

‘I tell you what you should do… I’ll give you the address of a special place on the King’s Road where you can hire a dress. Some of them are really spectacular and it’ll cost less than forking out for something you might only wear once… Where is the ball being held?’

‘I’m not sure. To be honest I’m not even certain of the exact date, but it’s a formal dinner and I believe it’s a very popular night with all the CID officers and their wives.’

Natalie lit another cigarette, and started to clear the plates.

‘Let me help you,’ Jane said, jumping up. ‘If you could give me the address for that dress hire place I’d be grateful. I’ve decided my entire wardrobe needs an overhaul, and I am going to chuck out that terrible safari suit.’

‘Just remember that you shouldn’t dress to please a man, you should do it for yourself. If you think you look good and you feel confident then whatever they think is immaterial… so sayeth my dear departed mother, who once…’

Natalie started to laugh, as Jane ran the hot water into the sink to begin washing the dishes.

‘She once said to me, in a very confidential manner, that if I wanted to know what kind of a body a man had…’ She giggled again, and Jane couldn’t help joining in.

‘I was gobsmacked because I couldn’t think of what she was going to come out with! But she whispered to me that I should go swimming with him, as you can tell what kind of body he has in a pair of swimming trunks! And do you know how often I’ve thought about that when I’ve been having sex, and wishing I’d had done a test run in a swimming pool!’

They both laughed, as the dishes were washed and put away, and by the time the kitchen was cleared it was after six. Natalie wanted Jane to stay but Jane didn’t want to outstay her welcome. When they said their farewells, Natalie gave her a big bear hug and a kiss, as they promised to meet up again for another cooking lesson.

As Jane drove home she suddenly remembered that Natalie hadn’t given her the contact details for the dress hire company, and decided she would ring her when she got back to her flat, but there was no answer when she called. She had enjoyed herself, and liked having someone to confide in. She did wonder whether perhaps she had said too much about her work, but then dismissed it. So that she didn’t forget exactly how to make spaghetti bolognese in the future, she wrote down all the ingredients and cooking instructions. Sitting in her tiny kitchen she doubted she could invite anyone for dinner, as they would have to perch on the kitchen stools. Then there was Pearl to consider, unless it was a weekend when she was away visiting her parents.

As if on cue Jane heard the main front door bang shut, and then heavy footsteps on the stairs before the key turned in the door. Pearl slammed the door shut behind her, causing Jane to wince as she appeared in the kitchen doorway. Pearl pulled off her green beret, shook her hair and dumped her overnight bag down on the floor. She sighed.

‘I had a big row with my mother, so I got the earlier train back.’ Pearl was about to go into her bedroom, when Jane noticed that she had two books tucked under her arm.

‘More books? You must be an avid reader.’

‘Yes, well it’s part of my job, or at least I feel it’s necessary. We sometimes have private parties who rent out the museum, and then I give a tour and they ask me a lot of questions. I like to know the background on all the exhibits. We even have sort of scenes from crimes, murders like Dr Crippen, and Lizzie Borden the axe-killer. I’m always asked for details, which is why I do the research. I like the murderers in our collection; it’s fascinating how and why they kill people. I’m always the one asked to give the private tours because most of the other employees have no idea who half the people are… and I get extra money.’

‘Oh, that’s very innovative of you.’ Jane said, and then she smiled. ‘Do you have a Marilyn Monroe waxwork there?’

‘Oh yes, of course.’

‘I believe she had lots of witty remarks recorded…’

‘She did… My favourite is; “I don’t mind living in a man’s world, as long as I can be a woman in it.” ’

‘Oh…’ Jane was impressed. She had been going to try and catch Pearl out by repeating what Dexter had told her.

‘Did you have a nice weekend?’ Pearl asked.

‘Yes, I did… I had a cooking lesson.’

‘Oh, cooking… that’s what started the argument with my mother. She infuriated me. I have told her repeatedly that I am a vegetarian and she says that she knows — and then she decided to roast a duck for Sunday lunch. I reminded her that I didn’t eat meat and she got into a real temper saying that duck wasn’t meat, it was a bird… then it just escalated into a big argument as to whether or not ducks and chickens were acceptable for vegetarians. I said: “Mother, they are fowl and therefore meat,” and the next minute there was drama and tears… so I had enough and left.’

‘Would you like a cup of your green tea?’

‘No, thank you. I’m tired out and have an early start in the morning. Oh, how was dinner at Fratelli’s?’

‘It was very nice.’

‘I often have their veggie lunch… but most days I like to go into the Planetarium. My friend Eric works there so I get in free. Do you believe in star signs?’

‘I’ve never really thought about it to be honest…’

‘Well, I do… I’m an Aries, and when you look at the formation of the planets and realise that we are such a small speck, it’s very meaningful. When I go back to work with all those wax figures of famous and historical people, I sometimes feel as if I am keeper of their souls.’

‘Really?’ asked Jane, trying to keep up as Pearl skipped from one subject to another. But Pearl seemed to have run out of steam.

‘Do you mind if I have a bath?’

‘No, go ahead… I’m going to have an early night.’

Pearl picked up her bag, and went into her bedroom. Jane waited for the door to bang shut, but this time Pearl closed it quietly. Jane washed her coffee cup and cleaned the kitchen before turning off the lights and going into her bedroom. She heard the bathwater running and as she got into bed she could hear Pearl singing, not too loudly but with a sweet voice. Jane recognised the song as ‘The Age of Aquarius’ from the musical Hair. She closed her eyes. Pearl was such a different creature to her she found it hard to relax with her, unlike Natalie, who she felt was already a friend. Pearl thought of heartless murderers like Dr Crippen as entertainment for visitors to Madame Tussauds, whereas Jane knew that real killers left behind horror and heartbreak.