A senior detective makes a visit to a lonely marshland cottage while following up a new lead in a 30-year-old murder case. Needless to say, his visit does not go as he anticipated.

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Disclaimer: The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2009 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

1 - Friday

In the flat areas of the country, a drainage ditch is often called, interchangeably, a 'dyke' or 'drain'. These are usually V-shaped, about 20 feet (6m) deep and often 30ft (10m) or more wide.

He pushed the doorbell button and looked around him, his breath steaming in the frozen air. The flat marshland spread around the cottage in all directions, tall, frost-encrusted grasses standing motionless at the sides of low fields which faded away into the faint mist. Far away, there was just the merest hint of sea-birds' cries and the murmur of the sea.

After nearly a minute, during which time he contemplated ringing the bell again and then walking around the house, he saw a figure approaching through the hammered glass in the front door. The door opened, and he found himself facing a middle-aged woman, slightly shorter than himself. She was wearing a very faded red long-sleeved t-shirt tucked into an ankle-length straight denim skirt, with a floral pinafore over the top. In the hand which wasn't holding the door she held a hand towel.

"Good morning, madam. I'm sorry to disturb you. I'm looking for the cottage once known as 'Haystack Cottage'. I was told this was the place."

She gave him a half smile and indicated the towel.

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting in the cold, I was up to my elbows in the washing. Yes, this was originally called Haystack Cottage. What can I do for you?"

The man delved under his heavy overcoat and into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a slim leather identification folder. Opening it, he showed it to the woman.

"I am Detective Chief Inspector Warfield, East Mercia CID, and I'm following up a lead on an old murder case. May I come in and ask you some questions about the cottage? I won't keep you long."

She looked at him with interest.

"By all means, Chief Inspector. Come in, please. You shouldn't be standing out in the cold in this weather. Go through to the sitting-room, please."

She showed him into a room to one side of the front of the cottage. It was bigger than he had expected from the outside, and quite modern in both construction and decoration. She bade him sit in one of the armchairs, although he found it awkward to do so while wearing his bulky coat. She sat in the other armchair facing him and gave him her full attention, her hands unconsciously kneading the towel as she did so.

"I'm investigating a cold case," he began, "a murder that happened thirty years ago in the East Midlands. As you know, murder cases are never closed until someone's caught, normally they just lie on file. There are people who work on all the cold cases, and these days there are new forensic techniques which we can use on the evidence collected during the original investigation. That's what has happened here. We have reason to believe that the person responsible moved to this cottage at some point following the crime, having originally been cleared of all involvement. I'm trying to trace his footsteps."

"I see. Well, I don't know how much help I can give you, I've been living here myself for fifteen years. I do have all the papers filed away from when I bought the property, I suppose his name and address will be amongst them somewhere." She frowned. "He went to Ireland. There was something odd - are you in a hurry for this information? I mean, do you have other places to go after here? It may take me some time to find what you are looking for."

"Thank you, madam, no, I haven't. This is the very end of the trail at the moment. I'd be very grateful for all assistance you can offer me."

She held him with a long, speculative look, then abruptly nodded.

"I'm afraid I'll have to carry on with what I was doing," she said. "The washing's in a state I can't leave at the moment. If you'd like to come through to the kitchen, maybe I can answer some of your other questions while I sort it out, and then I can look for the documents from the house purchase."

Warfield levered himself out of the chair, and followed the woman to the door of the sitting-room.

"Oh," she turned to him, "You don't look comfortable in that coat, and you're going to be here a while. Why don't you take it off and I'll hang it up by the front door."

He followed her through to the back of the cottage. She indicated a chair at the big table that filled the middle of the kitchen and he sat down, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did so. It was much warmer here. He noticed the range, the built-in cupboards, the lack of clutter on the scrupulously-clean work surfaces. He pulled out his notebook and a pencil, and positioned himself ready to take notes. The woman carried on into the next room.

"Can you hear me alright from there?"

She poked her head around the doorway.

"I'll have to stay in the utility room till I get this load rinsed and in the machine, but you can still ask me things. Come and stand by the doorway if there's too much noise."

"Thank you, madam, I'll manage. First of all, I think I'd better have your name. Just for the records, you understand."

"Of course. I'm Elaine Williams. That's Elaine Muriel Williams. I think my mother was trying to be funny when I was baptised."

"Thank you. I know it's rude to ask a lady her age, but I have to, I'm afraid."

"That's fine, Chief Inspector. I'm fifty-five years old."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's a year younger than myself," he said. He thought. "And, coincidentally, the same age as the person I'm trying to find. Although," he added, "I don't think he'll be looking as well as you do when I find him. Women seem to have stopped ageing these days, unlike men." He ran his free hand through his thinning hair as he wrote.

She gave him a smile from the doorway, her lower arms dripping with soapy water.

"Of course. We decided we didn't want to do it, so we stopped."

The questions continued while she sorted her clothes, drained the water, and got the machine going to spin them. Then she came into the kitchen and filled the kettle.

"I usually have a cup of tea about this time every morning, and you look as though you need something warm inside you. Is tea okay?"

"Thank you, Mrs Williams. Oh, I'm sorry, am I assuming something I shouldn't?"

She held up her left hand to show the ring on her third finger.

"Actually, you are, that's the purpose of this ring. I have never married. Is that a problem?"

"No, no," he waved a dismissive hand. "These days, people wear what they like and call themselves what they like. The police have to be broad-minded. Do you mind if I call you Miss Williams?"

"That will be fine. Do you take sugar? If you open the second cupboard from the left, you should find a bowl."

The tea-making ritual concluded, they sat facing one another across the table, tea in front of them and a plate of biscuits between them. Elaine took a biscuit and nibbled a corner.

"Please help yourself. If I don't get help to eat them they will only make me put on weight. Now, after we've finished, I'll have a look for the file you wanted. I suspect that it's up in the loft, but I'll do a check of my work room before I pull down the loft ladder."

"Will it will be freezing up there? I know my loft is in the winter."

"Oh, no," she smiled at him. "It might not be as warm as the kitchen but it won't be cold." She gave him a glance. "Did you wonder why this place was called Haystack Cottage?"

"I did, a bit," he admitted. "But we're surrounded by farms here, and I thought -" He trailed off. The marshland was almost exclusively used for grazing sheep and cattle these days, even an outsider like himself could see that.

"This is one of the earliest eco-houses," she explained. "It's built of straw bales, the walls are more than two feet thick. The locals called it Haystack Cottage while it was being built, and the name stuck."

He grinned at her and took a biscuit.

"That's why the loft won't be cold," she explained. "It's got a layer of boards for a ceiling, and on top of that is about eight tons of shredded waste newspapers. There's another layer of boards on top of that, and then the slates. It's very snug in the winter, and quite cool in the summer."

She grimaced. "It is, in fact, full of spiders, although what they live on I can't imagine. I don't get up there often, except to store another year's tax papers." She changed the subject. "Can you tell me something about the case, at all? There's something about a murder which makes everyone curious, if you know what I mean."

He nodded. "Of course. Most of what we know is public knowledge, in any case. There's only a few crucial details of the most recent forensic tests I ought to keep secret for now, if you don't mind."

She shrugged. "It's your case. I'm just interested in finding out how my house fits in to all this."

"Okay. There's a largish village in our policing area called Balthorpe, don't know if you've heard of it?" She shook her head. "I'm not surprised, most haven't. It used to be a mining village. Geoffrey Strickland ran a family construction firm based there, made a fair job of it, too. Had four children, two of each. Wife had died four years previously, husband never got over it, depression, drink, you can guess the story." Elaine nodded, interested despite herself. "Late one afternoon, one of the daughters came home and found him dead in the kitchen. There had been a massive fight, destruction in several of the downstairs rooms."

He stopped, his eyes re-seeing the scene in the house that night.

"It's personal with me, understand? I was a green Detective Constable, in the job barely six months, and this was my first murder. I remember going into that house and finding him. The daughter had phoned us and then collapsed from shock in one of the front rooms." He shook his head. "It was a right mess. Well, to cut months of police procedure short, we never found anybody. The children all had cast-iron alibis, or so we thought. After ruling out one or two other possible ideas we decided he must have come home and found an intruder, put up a fight and come off worse. Death was said to be by a blow to the head."

He took a sip of his tea, and then continued.

"Over the years, wherever I went, however I was promoted, that first murder never left my thoughts. Finally, just when I thought it was going to get away from me, forensic comes up with evidence to suggest that the younger son, Joseph Strickland, was in the house when his father died. After the death of the father, the children ran the family firm for a year and decided it wasn't for them, so sold up and divided the proceeds. Joseph Strickland moved around a couple of times and finally bought Haystack Cottage. That's why I'm here."

She nodded in recognition. "Joseph Strickland. Yes, of course. It's funny how some memories fade and others don't. Well, he went to Ireland, and I'm not sure that any address I have for him is going to help you."

"Ireland? You mean the Republic of Ireland?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, I should have been more specific. He went to Dublin first, I recall, then to some relatives a short distance away. I heard he'd come into an inheritance and wanted to settle down over there, rather than here on the marsh."

"Oh, yes," replied the detective. "We know all about the O'Malley inheritance. So he went over there to spend it, did he?" His eyes unfocused as he tried to fit this new information into what he already knew.

"Yes, but even the solicitors selling the house for him found it difficult to get in touch with him. It made the whole buying process that much more drawn out for both sides. What did you mean, when you said it was going to get away from you? Are they taking the case off you, or something?"

"I retire in six months. I did one or two things during my career which didn't do my body any good, so I'm taking early retirement."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Have you family? Will they be pleased to see more of you?"

"Regrettably, no, not really. My wife died four years ago, a blood clot after a trivial accident when she was out one day shopping. My older son is in the force, married with two young children, but I don't see enough of him because of where he lives. The other son is a pen-pusher in a bank down the south-west. I only ever see him at Christmas when he brings his wife up for the holiday. They're expecting," he added.

She studied his face thoughtfully. "You don't approve of what your younger son's doing."

He grimaced. "He could have done better for himself. Still, as a police officer I've seen just about everything, so I really can't complain." He put his cup down. "Well, thank you for the tea, and the biscuits, Miss Williams. I really think we ought to try and find those details, if you don't mind."

"You're right. I could talk all day if I'm allowed, I'm sorry." She got up and put the two cups into the sink. "You'll be going back to the Midlands when you leave, then?"

"Yes. It'll be a long drive, and well dark when I get there. Add in the usual Friday evening traffic, and I'll be shattered by the time I get home."

She led the way into the bedroom she had converted into a study and work room. She pulled open filing-cabinet drawers, checked the contents of several shelves, and shook her head.

"Not here, as I thought. I'll have to go up into the loft." She continued their previous conversation. "You didn't drive down here this morning, did you? Whatever time did you start out?"

"No, I'm not that crazy, not at fifty-six. I stayed at a hotel in Tulmouth. I wanted to stay all weekend, actually, but I'd forgotten they have a music festival on. I was lucky to get a room for last night, they had a cancellation."

She used a pole from the airing cupboard to release the trapdoor, and then to pull the ladder down. He helped her to adjust it and make it stable.

"It's a shame, really, I hadn't realised there was a festival on," he continued, "I would have made more effort to get my hotel arrangements sorted out if I had. Still, easy come easy go."

He watched her climb up, switching on the loft light as she did so.

"You can come up as well, if you like," she called. "It's a bit dusty, but it's all boarded out, so you won't go through the ceiling or anything." He followed her up into the loft space. "You enjoy music, then?"

"Yes. I get a lot of time in my car to listen to it these days. Don't know in detail what the festival offers, though. I wasn't in Tulmouth long enough to find out. I was more concerned last night with finding somewhere to eat."

"Here it is," she said, pointing to one of a number of brown archive boxes. "Let's get it to the edge of the trapdoor and then I'll pass it down to you. Is that all right?"

He climbed back down part of the way and she handed him the box, which he put on his shoulder as he went down the last two steps. She followed him and began putting the ladder away.

"Take it into the kitchen while I do this," she said. "You can spread it out all over the table if you need to."

"Won't it get your table dirty? This box is covered in dust and webs."

"Don't worry, it will only take a few seconds to clean it up when we've finished."

By the time she came into the kitchen he had unloaded the box into piles on the table and was going through them. She sat in her chair and watched him, leaving him to find his own way through the documents. Eventually he looked up.

"I see what you mean. The first few of these letters go to presumably the hotel in Dublin where he was staying, and then the address switches to a post-office box. Still, I have the address of his solicitor, that's a start." He made a note in his book.

"I'm afraid not," Elaine told him. "That firm of solicitors no longer exists. One of the partners got done for embezzling a client's trust fund a few years back, and the whole thing folded. Made quite a stink in the local papers when it happened. I think all the records and such got absorbed by one of the big London firms, but I'm only guessing. Come to that, even the solicitor I used myself has long gone. I have no idea what happened to them, I just noticed that the office was empty when I passed it while shopping one day."

"So there's no connection left at all? What about forwarded post? Did you get anything for him you needed to pass on?"

"Yes, there was quite a bit to start with, as you can imagine. I sent it all to the post box in Dublin. After a while it started coming back, so I thought to ask his solicitor if they had a forwarding address, but all they had was the post box, so I just had to return all the post as 'gone away'."

"Damn! Oh, excuse my French. It looks as though the trail will go cold." He looked at Elaine. "Oh, I could probably go to Dublin and try to worm a contact address out of the Post Office over there, but I doubt they'd still have the information, even if they'd be willing to tell a 'foreigner' like me. It is, what, fifteen years ago." He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair again, defeated. "I'll write up my report, and see if we can get someone to do the Dublin enquiries, but I think it's going to be too late. Too late for me, at least." He shook his head. "Nope, I think I'm going to have to let this one go, even though it grieves me. I hate loose ends." He started stacking the piles of papers and putting them back into the box. "Do you want help to put the box back in the loft while I'm here?"

She waved a hand. "No, that's all right. If we put the box in my work room, I've other items that need to go up later, I'll do them all together. Can I offer you lunch before you go?"

"Thank you, Miss Williams, but I'd better get going. It's a long drive."

She helped him into his coat, and then put her own on. They went outside together, both shivering as the cold air hit them. He went to his car, climbed into it, and got himself settled for the journey. She headed for the gate, pulling woollen gloves out of her coat pockets as she did so, and opened it for him to drive through. He drove towards the gate, now open, stopping halfway out of the entrance and lowering the driver's window as she approached.

"Well, thank you, Miss Williams. I'm sorry to have to upset your routine this morning. I'm just as sorry that the trail effectively ends here, but that's just professional pride. Thank you for the tea."

She leaned towards the open window. "I'm glad to have helped," she said. "If you need anything more, you have my phone number and my email address. Goodbye, Chief Inspector."

But the car never got any farther, because as they spoke a quad bike roared along the narrow lane and stopped in front of it. The muffled-up rider jumped off and approached Elaine.

"Mornin' Miss Williams. Mornin', Sir. Sorry, but you won't be able to get out of the lane just at the moment, there's a milk tanker come unstuck just round the bend up there."

"What's happened, Mike?" asked Elaine, who recognised the man as a son of the farmer who lived at the end of the lane.

"'ee slid on the black ice, turning out of Salter's Lane. Back end's gone in the dyke, front end's all cocked up in th' air. The 'ole lane's blocked till we can get a recovery vehicle out. I'm off back to the farm to phone, then to get Pa with one of the big tractors, see if 'ee can 'elp."

"Can I help?" asked Warfield. "I have a mobile phone, if that's any use."

"No signal round 'ere, sir. Got to be a proper phone."

"Driver all right?" asked Elaine.

"Yeah, Miss Williams. 'ee a bit shaken up, 'ee's set in Ma Winter's 'ouse wi' a cup of tea right now. Oh, and I'll 'ave to get the Environmental. Milk's gone in the dyke. I'll call back and let you know when the lane's clear again. If you'll excuse me, sir, Miss Williams."

Mike climbed back onto his quad-bike and continued his journey. Warfield looked exasperated, then reversed his car back to where he had parked it. He switched off and got out, slamming the door.

"Looks like your luck isn't too good at the moment," Elaine commented as he walked over to her. "If you're going to be here for a while, I insist on feeding you lunch."

They walked gingerly over the treacherous road surface to the far side, where a small tendril of white was visible through the film of ice on the surface of the water in the drain.

"You might be here a while," she told him. "If you time it wrong, they'll have tankers and pumps and who-knows-what here to clean that up. No chance of getting out for a few hours, yet. Come back inside where it's warm."

He followed her back inside, and at a prompting his jacket joined his coat on the hooks inside the front door. They returned to the kitchen where Elaine promptly got out her cleaning materials and started on the table. He sat down in a chair and watched her.

"Chief Inspector -"

"Please. I'm not being official now. Chief Inspector is such a mouthful. I would like it -" he paused, and then continued, surprised by what he had decided to say. "I would like it if you would call me David, Miss Williams."

It had been four years since Ruby died, and he had given no thought to what might follow it. The demands of his job, and his minor obsession over solving his first and final case, had driven thoughts of a more personal nature from his mind most of the time. Now, sitting in the warm kitchen, he had realised that Elaine Williams was more than just a name on a police report. He had only known the woman an hour, or an hour and a half, but he could sense that there was a spark of friendliness between them. He felt comfortable in this cottage, watching her wipe the table. In fact -

"Then you must call me Elaine," she replied. She wiped her right hand on a towel and held it out. "How do you do," she said, half in jest.

He took her hand and shook it, finding it firm, warm and alive. "How do you do," he responded. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not just at the moment. I've got to check the washing, then we can lay the table for lunch."

Laying the table was a sociable affair, both talking about the trials and tribulations of solitary living, favourite foods, what different people called different meals, and many other subjects. David's manner from the moment he had stepped into the house had put Elaine at ease, and she found him easy to make conversation with. As a long-serving guardian of law and order, he had a wealth of experience in dealing with such situations, but he found himself acting naturally rather than professionally. For her part, Elaine intuitively knew that he was a man she might trust.

She surveyed the wreckage of their lunch, sighing. "Twice as much to clear away. Twice as much eaten. I'm surprised you didn't eat more, in fact. Other men who've eaten from my table have had huge appetites."

"Ah, well, I don't seem to need quite so much now," David replied. "When I was in my twenties and early thirties, I used to eat like the proverbial horse. Ruby used to complain I used to eat more than the boys. Mind you, her tone changed once the boys were teenagers."

"Ruby was your wife?"

"Yes. She died four years ago," he answered abruptly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, how clumsy of me."

He waved a hand. "I've more or less come to terms with it, although I don't suppose I'll ever completely get over the shock. I've had to tell people a number of times over the years that someone near to them has died, but until it happens to you yourself you don't really understand the impact it can have."

"No, I imagine not. Shall we change the subject?"

"Suppose I give you a hand washing up the dishes?" he asked.

She considered, briefly. "No, I think they can wait. I think it's probably more important to see if you can get out yet, you don't want to be hanging around here with such a long way to go. I suggest we get our coats and walk along the lane. That will give us a chance of seeing if there's any progress, and also it will help our digestion. What do you think?"

"That's an excellent idea. I could do with a little light exercise, particularly if I'm going to be spending the rest of the day sat in my car."

Elaine found some fur-lined boots in the hall and pulled them on. She took off her pinafore and added a scarf, a knitted beret, a thick padded coat and some sheepskin gloves. David climbed back into his jacket and coat.

"I see you're accustomed to the weather round these parts," he observed.

"Oh, yes. It's not going to be too bad today, but when the wind's directly off the sea it can really suck the heat out of you if you're not prepared. Shall we go?"

They left the cottage, David somewhat amused when he realised that Elaine hadn't locked the door behind her, walked up the short drive, through the iron five-barred gate, and onto the narrow lane. This ran straight in both directions, with a huge drain on either side. Looking in one direction, David could see a group of buildings nearly a mile away, presumably the farm where the young man on the quad bike had been going. In the other direction the road ran for perhaps quarter of a mile and then angled sharply to the right. A clump of low trees hid what was happening beyond the bend, but didn't hide the yellow flashing lights.

"Shall we?"

David indicated with a gloved hand, and they started carefully walking towards the lights. In the hours since they had previously been up to the road, the film of ice on the road had melted somewhat, although there were still sufficient patches to require attention while walking. As they turned the corner, the scene opened up to them.

Aside from the milk tanker, there were two large farm tractors, a heavy goods recovery vehicle, a lorry-sized low loader, two smaller tankers and a police van. A man wearing a high visibility jacket and a hard hat came over to them as they approached.

"Best you stay back here, folks," he advised. "We've still got cables attached to the truck and if something breaks, there's no knowing what might happen."

"Can you tell us how long it might be before a car could get past?" asked David. "I've got a long drive back to the Midlands ahead of me, and I want to get going as soon as I can, before it gets dark if possible."

"Ah. Let's see. We've got the trailer out of the dyke, as you can see, but we can't tow it away because the coupling is damaged. We'll have to put it on that low-loader. Now, before we do that, we'll have to pump the milk out of it to lighten it, that's why those two little'uns are there. You just got an ordinary car, sir? Not a big four-by-four?"

"Just a BMW 5 series."

"Ah. If we arrange it carefully, you might be able to get by in about an hour or so. Depends on how fast we can transfer the milk. Call it hour and a half to be sure."

"Thank you." David's face fell.

The man nodded and walked off, and they watched the scene for a few minutes before turning away. Although it was early afternoon, already it seemed that the light was beginning to fade. The mist from this morning had mostly gone, but visibility was still poor, and the air was still only just above freezing. They started walking back. Elaine began to feel sorry for the policeman, whom circumstances had conspired to trap at the end of nowhere.

"It's just not your day, is it?" she said as they walked slowly back. "I'm sorry, I can assure you there's no ill intent. I have known days when absolutely everything that can go wrong tries to."

David gave a wry smile. "It's just one thing after another, isn't it? Yes, I've had other days like this. You can hardly say it's your fault, anyway. I've had a pleasant lunch out of it I otherwise would have missed."

They walked along in silence. As they approached the gate to the cottage, Elaine had an idea which made her think hard for some moments before she voiced it.

"When you get home tonight," she asked slowly, "what awaits you? From what you told me before, you're on your own, aren't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I am," he said, stopping in the lane and looking at Elaine, curious.

"I wish to offer a suggestion," she said tentatively. "Merely a suggestion, and I don't want you to think that you have any obligation to me whether you say yes or no."

"Go on."

"I was thinking, by the time you can get away from here, you'll be in the heavy traffic, and then you'll have to stop to eat, and then you'll get home late, and then you'll spend the weekend by yourself. Is that right?"

David nodded, interested at the sudden turn of conversation.

"I was also thinking, you said originally that you would have stayed in Tulmouth if you'd realised the music festival was on. Since you can't get a hotel room, I was wondering whether you would like to stay in the cottage as my guest for the weekend. I usually go to the festival on the Saturday on my own, but I'd be delighted to have some company if you accept my offer."

The suggestion had come out of the blue, and it threw David completely. However, it would kill a number of birds with a single stone, and he decided to find out more.

"Miss Williams, I think you had better tell me exactly what you had in mind."

"Detective Chief Inspector Warfield, David, I must assure you that I had nothing untoward in mind." Elaine was now flustered, and she realised that she had been on the verge of making an improper suggestion to someone who was almost a total stranger. If her cheeks hadn't been so cold, she might have blushed. She swallowed and tried to compose herself. "I merely meant that as you had indicated a desire to sample the music festival, and that since I have a spare bed, that I wanted to offer you the chance to go to the festival. In addition it would provide both of us some company this week-end. You could stay tonight, and I would have no objection to your staying tomorrow night as well. That means that you would have the whole of Sunday to return home at your own pace, and in daylight."

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, "I didn't mean to imply you were suggesting anything improper." Then he completely surprised himself by saying, "Yes, Miss Williams, I find your suggestion to be an attractive one. You'll forgive me if I take a minute or two to weigh up my options."

"Shall we walk down towards the farm while you do, then? I'll be quite happy to answer any questions you might have."

The two continued past the entrance to the cottage towards the farm at the end of the lane while David thought about what he had been offered. It would certainly ease his travel troubles, he hadn't been looking forward to the delayed drive at all. In fact, he had been contemplating breaking his journey and stopping overnight at one of the service areas en route. While he knew from past experience that the accommodation at such places was usually clean and efficient, it was also uniquely soulless, something to be endured rather than enjoyed, so an opportunity to spend an evening in friendly company would be a definite plus. The food, judging by today's lunch, would also be significantly better quality. Then there would be tomorrow.

"You say you go to the festival every year?" he asked. "What sort of music is there?"

"A complete mixture," she replied. "It was originally music from about 1850 to about 1950, but the boundaries are a bit blurred these days. There's music hall, Gilbert and Sullivan, all kinds of jazz from traditional to progressive, barber-shop, big bands, brass bands, some skiffle, folk music, the occasional post-war musical too. They tend not to go in for the big classical pieces, or modern pop, but almost anything else has put in an appearance from time to time. Do you have any particular preferences?"

"I like Gilbert and Sullivan. Ruby and I used to go occasionally."

"Would that distress you to go again, do you think?"

"No. I have been since, and I did wonder what would happen, but I decided that I shouldn't cut myself off from life just because I had happy memories from before, and it turned out much less of an ordeal than I'd thought. What else do I like? I suppose most of what you've just listed. Would we have to book in advance, do you know?"

"Not usually. Most venues one can just turn up at the door. There are one or two special events - one on the Saturday, and one on the Sunday - where it's advisable to book, but otherwise there's usually room to get in." She thought. "There's a schedule of events in the middle of the Tulmouth Argus, we can have a look when we get back to the cottage."

He had other concerns, as well.

"I'm sorry, but the policeman in me is slightly cautious. It's occurred to me that I know next to nothing about you. For instance, what is it you do out here, a long way from anywhere?"

"I paint a bit, and I write a bit," she replied. "Like your suspect I came into a little money, and it allows me to follow my heart without having to resort to having a full-time job. In fact, if I just painted I could make a living, although it would be somewhat basic. The writing puts the jam on my bread, so to speak. The fact that I live in a house which is so energy-efficient means I spend nothing on heating bills either, which is quite handy. Why out here? Well, if you look ahead you'll see that the lane turns into a track, and if you were to walk down there for twenty minutes you'd be on the beach. It's the perfect place to put up an easel. Although, of course, at this time of year all my paints would be frozen in their tubes."

"Oh. Yes, I saw some canvases in your workroom when you were looking for those documents. Will you show me some of your work when we get back to the cottage?"

She was suddenly shy. "Oh, they're just some daubings of mine."

"If those daubings pay your bills then they can't be that bad. I don't know much about art - except when it's been stolen - so I promise I won't pass a critical eye over them. What do you say?"

"Oh, very well." It suddenly seemed important to her that he approved of what she did, although she could not have said why. "I don't have much about at the moment, it's the wrong time of year, but you're welcome to see what I do have. Now, have you come to a decision?"

"I'm sorry? Oh! Yes, of course, I'd be delighted to accept your invitation." He had been so efficiently sidetracked by their conversation that he had forgotten that he hadn't given her an answer. He had automatically decided that it was a foregone conclusion, but had omitted to tell her what he had decided. It was his turn to be embarrassed.

"Miss Williams!" The young man they had met earlier came out of the yard as they reached the farm gate. "They still makin' a dog's breakfast o' that truck, then?"

"Yes, Mike. One of the men said it would be a hour to an hour and a half yet. My visitor," she indicated David, "has decided to stay overnight, so I'll save you the bother of calling in."

"Ain't no bother, Miss Williams, thanks anyway."

The two retraced their steps to the cottage. David opened the boot of his car and retrieved his bags, Elaine showing him which room to drop them in before they hung up their coats and made themselves comfortable in the sitting-room.

"I'll make some tea to help warm us up. Here's this week's Tulmouth Argus, if you want to choose something to see tomorrow."

When she returned with a tray she asked, "Do you need to get into contact with anyone, to tell them where you are or anything? There's a phone in my work room. I've also got an internet connection, although it isn't very fast. It's enough if you want to check emails or something like that, though."

David looked at his watch. "Yes, that's a good idea. If you don't mind?"

"Of course not. I'll bring the tea things along, we can drink them in there while I get you connected."

David made two short phone calls, to update his team on progress - or lack of progress - in the case, and to tell people where he would be all week-end. By the time he had finished Elaine had fired up her computer and he then spent a few minutes checking emails. David drank his tea and then turned his attention to the stack of canvases leaning against one wall of the work room.

"May I?"

"Go ahead," she said calmly, although she was slightly nervous inside.

He picked up the first one and turned it over to look at it.

"I'm impressed," he said after a long pause. "I'm not surprised people pay money for these. Is that a lighthouse?"

"It's one of the navigation lights that line the channel into Tulmouth," she explained. "I walked a way down the beach towards town to paint that one."

He put the painting down and reached for the next. "That's the farm, surely?" She nodded. "And this one is your cottage?"

"Yes. It's done from the field behind, so you can see the kitchen garden and the conservatory. You probably didn't notice those from the road."

"No. I was more concerned with not falling over, I think. Now, this one's of the harbour at Tulmouth, yes?"

"Yes. Did you get to the harbour while you were there?"

"No, but I recognise it from a leaflet that was in my hotel room. I wouldn't have realised that from this apparently empty landscape you could find so much to paint, but then I've not got an artist's eye."

"Are you not artistic at all, then?"

"Hah. Not at all." He neatly stacked the canvases back where he'd found them. "We had to do some sketching of scenes of crime as part of the training to become a detective. My instructor said he'd seen more realistic identikit pictures." He considered. "It's not a good trait for a detective to have, really. We're supposed to be methodical and accurate rather than artistic, although having an imagination always helps, just so long as we don't start inventing things."

"Like witness statements, you mean?" she said with a smile that defused the implied criticism. He winced, but nodded agreement. She continued, "Right, perhaps we'd better go and find something for dinner." After shutting the equipment down, she led the way back to the kitchen. "My original meal for tonight will have to stay in the fridge, that's no problem," she added when he started to apologise. "I have some lamb in the freezer, will that be okay?"

In her own domain she was totally assured, just as Ruby had been at home. There were differences, of course, in the details, but she fitted her environment exactly. David was surprised to discover that he fitted in, too. He insisted on helping to prepare vegetables, and she made him wear an apron to keep the mess off his suit trousers. Once the ingredients had been placed in a casserole dish, and the dish put in the oven, they cleaned themselves up and returned to the sitting room.

She had a wide selection of books, although some of the titles made him raise an eyebrow. She explained that she went to a couple of second-hand bookshops in Tulmouth, and occasionally would pick random titles in order to ensure that she didn't get too set in her reading habits. He gently quizzed her about the contents of some, and found that she could talk knowledgeably about some subjects that he barely understood, and realised that there was an intelligent brain behind the gentle, middle-aged face. He unconsciously compared her to Ruby, who could never have been accused of reading much beyond her romances and women's magazines.

Although Elaine had a television, they listened to the news on the radio, discussing each item as it came on. They discovered that they thought alike on many of the issues. Of course, the guest would never disagree openly with his host, but then he didn't have to most of the time. After the news had finished, they looked at the festival programme in the middle pages of the Argus, trying to decide what to see. A phone call to the booking office showed, as Elaine had expected, that the main event of a Gilbert and Sullivan performance was fully booked, so they decided to just stroll around whenever they got to Tulmouth and see what was on offer.

The afternoon wore on and turned into early evening. Dinner was about ready and they adjourned to the kitchen, where David soaked up a domestic atmosphere he hadn't really experienced since Ruby died. The table was laid, the china prepared, and the casserole dish was bought out to sit steaming in the middle of the table on a stout cork mat. Elaine asked David to open some wine while she served out the meal.

"You don't want to go mad with the wine, do you. I would think that in your line of work you don't get a lot of opportunity to have a drink."

"Unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately, depending on your point of view, I don't," he replied. "Because we tend to be on call most of the time we aren't supposed to drink very much, of course, although some seem to manage it without getting caught. On the positive side, there's a potential for officers at all levels to end up alcoholics because of the stress, so not being able to drink saves our livers, I suppose. My drinking tends to be a couple of shorts at the club with the Chief Super when there's a function, and maybe a bottle of wine or two over Christmas. Family life kept me from the beer culture of the lower ranks as well."

"Have you had a very hectic career, then?"

"So-so," he said. "It's the usual thing, weeks doing boring paperwork and then some high-profile crime everyone wants solved right now. Fortunately, because I'm coming up to retirement, things are beginning to tail off for me. Cold cases give me the opportunity to take a fresh look at old evidence and try to see what the original investigation missed, and do it at my own pace." He swallowed a forkful of food. "I must come here more often! This is delicious."

She smiled at him. "Well, you helped me make it, I can't take all the credit myself. What about this case you're working on now? I thought you said something about forensic advances."

"Oh, yes. These days we can get DNA samples - and fingerprints - from places we'd never have thought possible all those years ago. And we can do more with the samples we do get, as well. That means we might be able to draw conclusions the original team would never have been able to."

"Made your job easier?"

"Yes and no. We have to be a lot more careful at the crime scene, and the procedures have multiplied like a plague of locusts. I don't know that we're catching a lot more people," he admitted, "but we're more certain of those we do catch."

Dinner was followed by fresh fruit for dessert, and then they took their wine glasses into the sitting room to relax. Relax was certainly what David did. When he thought about it, he realised that he hadn't really had a quiet, unpressured evening to himself since Ruby had had her accident. After some further conversation Elaine realised that the combination of dinner, the wine and the warm house was sending her guest to sleep, so she suggested that they both retire, even though it wasn't very late. He readily agreed and followed her down to the guest bedroom. She showed him the bathroom facilities and left him to it while she cleared up the kitchen. By the time she had finished he had retired to his room and the light was off.

After sorting herself out in the bathroom, she went to her own bedroom and closed the door. Why had she offered to put him up? A single man in the remote house of a single woman, she must have been mad. Some strange impulse had made her do it, but the same impulse had known that he would not be a danger to her, not that kind of danger, anyway. His presence had woken something inside her that she hadn't known was there, as well. Interesting. Well, tomorrow would tell if her intuition had been on the right track. She switched off the light and pulled the covers over herself.

After being forced to stay overnight in her remote cottage, David accompanies Elaine to the music festival. Their day out is a turning point for them both.

---

Disclaimer: The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2009 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

2 - Saturday

David entered the kitchen to find it empty. He had washed, shaved and dressed without hearing any movement in the cottage, and he wondered whether he had got up before Elaine. However, as he appeared she called a cheery greeting from the utility room, where she was bent over an ironing board.

"Do take a seat!" she called, putting the iron on a surface and switching it off. "How did you sleep last night? Can I get you tea or coffee?" She bustled into the kitchen and began filling the kettle. "I heard you stir, so I decided to wait for you before I made breakfast, and then decided to do a spot of ironing while I was waiting."

"I slept very well, thank you. It's extremely quiet out here in the country, isn't it? Er, may I have some tea, please? Usually, I need strong coffee to get me going in the morning, but I don't believe that's necessary today."

"Tea it is. I'm afraid I can't offer you a full English breakfast, as I finished off the bacon on Wednesday, but you can have toast, eggs done several ways, muesli or porridge."

"Just toast today, thank you. Can I help lay the table?"

"By all means. Oh, and there are times of the year when it's distinctly noisy outside. Like when they're taking hay off the fields, or scraping the drains clear, or moving animals. Fortunately those days are few and far between."

They got down to the business of breakfast, and gave their food their undivided attention. After Elaine had poured them each a second mug of tea, David asked about the day's activities.

"I assume you have some kind of plan for today, as you've been before?"

"Oh yes. We can amble up this morning, and I'll give you a proper tour of Tulmouth, seeing as you missed it before. We can find lunch there, and then go and sample the festival. Will you mind eating out? I'm sorry, you've probably seen far too much restaurant food on your travels, haven't you?"

"That's okay, I'll manage. You must know decent places to eat in Tulmouth."

"I do, but of course with the festival in full swing everywhere's crowded. Fortunately a phone call or two can fix that, I know a few people."

Phone calls made, they dressed in their outdoor clothes and left the cottage. This time, David noticed, Elaine made sure that all the doors and windows were secure. The weather was much the same as it had been when he had arrived yesterday, frost on all surfaces, misty, little sun.

"My car or yours?" she asked.

"I think I shall insist on driving you," he said. "After all, you've put me up, the least I can do is to chauffeur you around today."

"Very well," she replied, "but remember what happened to that milk tanker. The roads round here are lethal in this kind of weather."

David bit off a retort that of course he would take care, he had driven here yesterday, hadn't he? And wasn't he a member of the Institute of Advanced Motorists? Then he realised that she was merely showing care for his welfare, and she was familiar with the road conditions round here while he wasn't, and he felt silly. He plipped the remote door locks and then held her door while she climbed in.

Turning out of the gate, he asked, "Which way? Do I go back to the main road?"

"No," she replied, "even in this weather it'll be choked with festival traffic." She glanced at him. "Of course, us locals know all the back roads. I'll take you a way that will keep us off the beaten track for most of the trip, and it will be shorter as well."

They drove past the site of yesterday's excitement, nothing visible now except a white patch on the road and some deep gouges in the bank where the vehicle had slid down. Even in the mist she could guide him with no difficulty exactly where she wanted to go, and they soon arrived on the outskirts of Tulmouth, joining the stream of traffic entering the small town.

When they were almost all the way in as far as he'd been on Thursday evening he began to wonder where they could park, as the town was obviously filling with festival goers. He needn't have been concerned, as she directed him up a side street and then along an access way behind some shops, making him park behind a modern commercial property.

"This is the back of the gallery where I bring a lot of my work," she explained. "I have an arrangement with Rebecca who owns the gallery, so I can park here whenever I come to Tulmouth and avoid hassle and crazy parking charges."

They got out and she rang a bell as he locked the car. The door was opened by a thin woman with dark red hair, whose face lit up when she saw Elaine.

"Elaine! You managed to get here, then? Where's your car? Oh! You have a friend..?"

They air-kissed, and Elaine explained. "Yes, Detective Chief Inspector Warfield came yesterday to ask questions about the person I bought the cottage from, and a truck got stuck in the drain and he couldn't leave. So I offered him a room for the night and brought him here to have a look at the festival."

David walked over and Rebecca held out her hand. "I'm Rebecca. Nice to meet you, er..."

"David. I'm not working today, so you might as well call me David." He shook her hand, and she ushered them into the back of the gallery before securing the door.

"It's colder than usual out," Rebecca said to Elaine, "I wasn't sure whether you would bother coming in this year, but obviously if you've got a guest then you have to make the effort."

"Yes, he'd expressed an interest when he came yesterday, and when he got stuck I realised that if he stayed overnight, and there was nowhere else he had to be this week-end, he might as well come and enjoy himself here. Will his car be all right back there?"

"Of course! If his hadn't been there, yours would have, so it evens out. What had you planned to do today, then? Do you want to have a look at some of her paintings while you're here, David?"

"I've seen some, and they're very good. I'll look at whatever else you have here, though. I don't claim to be any kind of expert, so don't expect anything but unqualified admiration, though."

Elaine smiled. "He's the kind of art critic I like, I think. We were planning to have a walk around the town before lunch, although it's probably too cold to stand around much. After lunch, it's just going to be a lucky dip, I expect."

"Where are you eating lunch?" Rebecca asked. "The Lifeboat House? You usually do."

"Yes, I've a table booked for one o'clock. Why?"

Rebecca looked smug. "Because I phoned them earlier and found out that you had booked. If you don't mind, Julian and I will be joining you for lunch." Her expression changed, as she suddenly realised she might have presumed too much. "Oh! Unless you had other plans?"

"No, we'll be delighted with your company. We'll have to come back here just before, as there's a little shopping I must do this morning as we're going round, so we can all walk down there together. How's Julian these days?"

The talk went on as Rebecca showed them around the gallery. Julian, Rebecca's partner, waved from the till but he was busy so they left him alone. David spotted some of Elaine's canvasses and was overwhelmed by the prices set on them. She obviously had a serious talent.

Eventually Elaine decided that they had spent enough time keeping Rebecca from her customers and they left the gallery by the front door. Without thinking, David held out his arm and a startled Elaine promptly put hers through the gap. Thus linked together, the two walked slowly down the crowded, narrow street towards the quayside. David managed 100 yards before he stopped, suddenly aware of what he'd done.

"I'm so sorry! That was a bit presumptuous of me, wasn't it? I've been so used to doing it with my wife, it was automatic." He attempted to shake her arm free.

"It's not a problem, David," she said quietly. "I took it in the spirit it was meant. It's hardly as presumptuous as me offering to put you up overnight, is it?" She smiled at him and pulled his arm to her body. "Besides, it's much warmer if we walk together like this. Come on."

They resumed walking, David now very conscious of her body touching his in several places. It was true, he had acted automatically, but he realised that it was just his natural instinct to look after her. She was a woman, and even if she lived an independent existence he would still behave that way, it was the way he had been brought up. He resolved to be more careful in the future. Elaine had taken his attentions with good grace, another woman might have been offended - or worse. At this point in his career, a sexual harassment charge was something he could live without.

The buildings ended, and suddenly they were standing on the stone quay. The harbour was fairly wide, and to his right a mole jutted out from each side a short way into the sea. The tide was currently out, exposing a wide expanse of evil-smelling mud dotted with numerous sailing craft of all sizes. To his left, a number of small fishing boats lay piled against the quay. Over the other side of the harbour could be seen a number of rusting sheds linked together.

"This used to be quite an active fishing port in bygone times," Elaine explained. "There was a big herring fleet, and sea-going barges came through as well, taking produce to market. This was quite a prosperous little place."

"What happened? Progress?"

"Sort of. The river silted up, which meant that the fishing boats couldn't get in and out. There's only a few left, the very small ones you can see. The grain and veg barges could get inland quite a way up the bigger drains, they lasted longer because they were shallow-draft. That all ended when the railways came."

"It's a pity. All that's left is smelly mud and rusting sheds."

"Those rusting sheds are where we are going this afternoon. That's where a lot of the music acts will be taking place."

"You're kidding."

"Don't judge by appearances. You'll see when we get there."

"What are we going to do now, then?"

"Well, first thing to do is get out of this freezing draught. I suggest we go this way, that'll take us into some of the narrow streets and we can just amuse ourselves watching the tourists. I'll show you a couple of places that might interest you as well. It's probably time we had a coffee, don't you think? There might not be much wind, but it's still very cold out here."

They returned back to the gallery just before lunch, each holding a plastic shopping bag in their free hands. Rebecca led them through and out the back, where the bags were secured in the boot of David's car. Once back in the warm, they waited a few minutes before Rebecca put up the 'Closed' sign and she and Julian joined them in their winter gear. The two couples walked back towards the harbour before turning down a side street and coming out at the seaward end of the quay. The corner building was the restaurant, and they gratefully entered to get out of the cold.

The maá®tre d' recognised the locals and showed them to a table set by one of the large front windows overlooking the harbour. They were relieved of their coats and seated themselves, Rebecca and Julian on one side of the table and Elaine and David on the other. A waiter brought the menus, they discussed what was good and what was not, and made their choices. Naturally, in such a location there was a preponderance of seafood, and both Elaine and David chose freshly-caught fish, but one of the lighter lunch options.

Their first courses came, and they began eating. While they waited for the main course, Rebecca said, "Did Elaine say that you'd come down here to investigate a crime? Is there anything you can tell us?"

"Yes, although it's an old case, a murder thirty years ago." Rebecca's eyes grew round as she listened to David recount his tale.

"East Midlands?" she interrupted him. "Isn't that near where you're from?" she asked Elaine.

David turned to Elaine, surprised since he had assumed all along that she was a born local.

"It's true," she confirmed. "But not from there, I'd never heard of that village. My family's from Mansfield."

"Oh," Rebecca said, "my geography's not that great, never mind. Carry on, David. What happened?"

He went through the details, but didn't say much more than he'd told Elaine previously. With her assent, he did tell them of the Irish connection and how the trail had finally run cold.

"Oh, that's a shame," remarked Julian. "I bet you hate it when you can't get a result in a case."

David shrugged. "It's life. Sometimes real life doesn't turn out as nice and neat as some of us would wish it to. It took me a good while in the force before I realised that there were situations where I had to make a compromise."

Lunch finished, the two couples left the restaurant and separated, Rebecca and Julian to return to the gallery while Elaine and David walked into the town along the quay.

"Are those two a couple?" he asked, as they walked along arm in arm. "I couldn't quite figure them out."

Elaine gave a half-laugh. "No, I don't think those two would make a very good couple," she said. "It's a business relationship only, although I can see why you'd think there was more to it. Julian's gay."

"Really? I would never have guessed."

"They're not all like those you see on the television. Some of them just want to get on and live quietly like the rest of us do. His partner works in one of the local bank branches here."

Several of the local pubs were hosting festival acts, and there was a brass band playing in the furniture section of the town's independent department store. They took their time sampling the attractions, and eventually came to the bridge over the river that divided the town.

"Technically, everything the other side of the river is St Mark sub Tull, but everyone just calls it all Tulmouth now," Elaine explained as they walked over the bridge, attempting to keep out the keen wind now blowing from the sea. "This side was the fishing side, where we came from is where the rich merchants lived. Now, that big building there is the old Corn Exchange, that's where we would have been going if we'd managed to book the Gilbert and Sullivan concert. We want to go down this way to the Fish Market."

The route she took him brought them to the other side of what had previously appeared to be dilapidated sheds, but which David could now see were nothing of the sort. From this side he could make out a building originally constructed of Victorian cast iron framework, but now augmented by stainless steel and modern glass. The wide space between the buildings had been turned into a cobbled plaza, and it was apparent that during warm weather there would be pavement cafes and restaurants. She led him towards the largest of the buildings, and they gratefully moved inside into the warmth.

"If this is like this," David asked, indicating the restored interior of the building, "why is the outside on the harbour side so decrepit?"

Elaine rolled her eyes. "It's all Listed Buildings," she said. "They've been arguing at least eight years what to do with the outside. Meanwhile it rusts away. Fortunately, inside the old skin there's a very modern thermally-efficient second layer, so no-one inside suffers."

"Made of bales of hay, do you think?" he asked.

She smiled at him. "I think they've moved on since then. I don't pretend to understand the technology myself. What do you fancy, folk, barber-shop, traditional jazz?"

They moved from room to room at random, staying if something took their fancy, and moving on when the current act became less than tuneful. During one of these room changes they stopped at a booth for afternoon coffee.

"You're certainly enjoying yourself, David. Do you have any musical abilities? Can't manage a note myself."

"I can play the piano. When forced to. No, joking aside I can play reasonably well, and I can read music while I do so. Ruby inherited a piano from one of her grandparents, so I've had the chance to keep in practice at home." He paused, thoughtfully. "Actually, I haven't touched it since she died." He looked at Elaine. "Thank you, my dear, for reminding me. I must remember to have a go when I get back home. It might be something I can take more interest in when I retire."

David moved his cup and saucer away from the edge of the table and began mock-playing an invisible keyboard. After a few seconds he looked up. "At school, I learned to play the saxophone in the school brass band, but I gave that up when revising for exams took over. Do you play anything?"

"No," she replied, "we didn't have much of a musical bias where I went to school. It was academic plus sports. I did... netball and hockey when I wasn't doing English Lit or History, although I wasn't good at any of them. Sports, I mean. My brother had a guitar he used to play incessantly. Thought he was Eric Clapton or Mark Knopfler, I don't know. Was in a band like a lot of boys his age."

"Wish I'd had the time! Probably was a good thing, though. If I'd ended up in a band, I'd never have got the exam grades I did, and that would have meant I never went into the police. Wonder what would have happened if I'd gone musical instead."

"You might have been playing here instead of watching. What do you think of the acts we've seen so far? Is it what you expected?"

David nodded. "Yes, it is. I've thoroughly enjoyed myself so far, although I think part of that is due to the excellent company. I must thank you for talking me into doing it."

Elaine smiled. "It was the least I could do. You looked thoroughly fed up when you discovered you were stuck, and the opportunity to come presented itself, so here we are. I'm glad it worked out well."

"And what of yourself? I hope I'm not upsetting your usual routine too much by dragging you round."

Elaine paused. In truth, she had been enjoying herself immensely, although it was only David's question that made her aware of the fact. This trip to Tulmouth with him had been like moving along a well-greased slot, a level of familiarity with a companion she had not experienced for some years. Although she'd known him for little more than a day, they dovetailed together like they had known each other for ages.

He treated her, automatically, the same way he had treated his wife, that is with tact, politeness, consideration, care, warmth. Although she might otherwise have objected to someone behaving that way towards her she discovered that she minded not at all to the same treatment from him. In fact, part of her enjoyed being looked after by an attentive man. To be honest with herself, she was enjoying being looked after by him.

"This is an unusual experience for me," she said quietly, "but it's an experience I wouldn't have missed for the world." She moved her hand over towards his and clasped it. "Thank you for escorting me around today."

He returned the clasp. "It's been my pleasure and a privilege," he said. "Since Ruby died I've become too wrapped up in my work to think about relaxation. Being stuck out here has made me realise just how much of life I've been missing. I needed this break, short though it will be, and I thank you for that. Oh, the music festival has been part of it, true, but I've enjoyed just being here with you."

Elaine dropped her eyes, and a faint flush began in her cheeks. Is he saying what I think he's saying? Perhaps my intuition did know something. Let's see what the evening brings. She raised her gaze to meet his.

"Thank you," she said simply. "Shall we go and find something else to listen to?"

They moved on, barber-shop followed folk, which in turn followed trad jazz. By that time they needed another break, which worked out just right as it was about time for an early dinner. Elaine had previously booked, so they bundled themselves up warmly and made the trek back across the bridge into the other half of Tulmouth. The tide was now in, filling the harbour to the brim, and the breeze had picked up enough to blow the mist and low cloud away. It was going to be a cold night.

The restaurant was an Italian one, up a side street, and the proprietor and Elaine were old friends. He led them through the packed restaurant to a reserved table and took away their coats while they inspected the menu. After much discussion they placed their orders.

"Would you like anything to drink, Sir, Madam?"

"Unfortunately, no, thank you," replied David. "I'm driving, and the way the temperature's going down the roads will be dangerous enough without any complications. How about you, Elaine? I don't want to stop you if you want to have something with your meal."

"It seems rude, drinking on one's own. I know, Paolo, do you still have any of those little bottles of red left, you know the ones I mean?"

Paolo beamed. "Of course. An excellent idea. I'll order one brought out. Enjoy your meal."

The waiter brought the tiny bottle of wine and a carafe of water. Elaine poured two-thirds of the wine into her own glass and held the bottle over David's glass. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, go on then. There's hardly enough left in there to do me any damage."

She emptied the bottle and they touched glasses in a toast before attacking their entrées.

As they reached the end of their main courses she asked, "What would you like to do afterwards? Have you had enough for today? I don't want to tire you out."

David played with the remains of his half-chicken. Subconsciously, he didn't want the evening to end. The meal had given him a little fresh energy, so that despite the cold outside he felt that he could manage to go on some more.

"I'm game to stay out a little longer if you are," he replied. "Do you normally stay the evening?"

Elaine nodded. "If I'm with friends, that's what we usually do. If I'm on my own I tend to go home a little earlier. It depends on what's on and also the weather, of course."

"Very well, then. What's there for us to see this evening?"

They discussed options and decided to return to the Fish Market. David insisted on paying for the meal, and they wrapped themselves up warmly again before venturing out of the crowded restaurant. They hurried back across the bridge into the centre again, and found themselves a table in the Fish Hall, where an orchestra accompanied an ensemble singing tunes from musicals.

After an hour or so the orchestra transformed itself into a Big Band set-up, some of the members leaving and others joining, and the seating adjusted accordingly. The middle of the hall had been left empty, and as the band began to play one or two people got up from their tables and went into the open space to dance. Elaine and David watched them, and when the next tune began he turned to her and held out his hand.

"Shall we join them?"

Elaine gulped. There's nothing I would like more. "Yes, why not? I'm afraid I'm not that brilliant, I'll try and keep out from under your feet."

They joined the half-dozen other couples and began circulating to the gentle music, David carefully guiding her.

"I'm not that expert myself," he murmured. "But you're not doing too badly. I would guess we're about the same kind of standard."

Elaine couldn't answer, because her head was spinning. Is this what it's like? And why now, and why him?

"Elaine? Something wrong?"

She swallowed. "No, I'm just concentrating on moving my feet, and I'm trying to remember the last time a handsome man took me dancing."

"Handsome?" David chuckled. "It's been a while since anyone called me that. It's been a while since I've been dancing, as well. I'll say it again, I'm glad you talked me into this."

"I'm glad too," she said softly, and clasped him a little more closely.

The number ended, and they separated in order to join in the applause. A new number began, slower and more smoochy than before, and they set off once more. By this time David was aware of a change in Elaine, and he wondered whether they had done too much in the day.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "You're moving a little differently. Is the dancing too much for you?"

"The dancing, no," she replied faintly. "I'm sorry, I'm not concentrating."

All the same she held him closely, and was reluctant to release him when the number ended. The lights came up slightly, and they could see that the hall was beginning to fill. The band struck up a new tune, much quicker tempo, and they moved to the side to watch the younger element take over.

"Do you mind if we sit down for a bit? My legs are a bit wobbly."

"Oh, you should have said! Come on." David led the way back to their table.

"Would you mind getting me a drink, please? Not a coffee, I think I want something cold - a coke, perhaps."

"Of course I will. I'll be right back."

While David was away, she tried to calm herself down, to rationalise what had happened to her. She had been aware that it might happen one day, as it might happen to anyone. Something within her cried out for her to seize her chance before it slipped away, but something else told her to be very, very careful. She had barely known him for a day and a half, after all.

Unless they just parted amicably in the morning, her life would change forever, and in unpredictable ways. Would she be able to cope with that? For a split second, she considered getting up and running out of the hall, away from him and the inevitable complications he would cause. But then she realised that she respected him too much to do that to him. Besides which, they had come in his car, and she would have to go and knock up Rebecca to have somewhere to stay overnight.

No. Let the chips fall as they may. But she would have to be extremely careful.

"There you go." David set down a tumbler full of coke over ice in front of her, and a similar one for himself. "How do you feel now?"

"I'm fine, really I am." As David sat down she grasped the glass in one hand, the shock of the cold bringing her back to full awareness. She took a sip, letting the liquid run down her throat, cooling her gullet. "There's nothing wrong with me physically. A lot's happened today, and I'm trying to make sense of it all."

"Well, judging by that lot out there, we did well to keep out of the way, I think. My muscles are aching just watching them."

Some of the younger audience were jitterbugging and jiving, the men throwing their girlfriends into the air and between their legs. The rest of the dancers had drawn back to let the exhibitionists have the whole floor.

"Gosh, yes. That's far too energetic for the likes of me. Mind you, my younger sister could do things like that, but then she was only just over half my size. She's the dancer in my family."

"I never had that, fortunately, having just a brother. No daughters, either. Still boy's pursuits can be as expensive as girls, can't they? If it wasn't tennis rackets it was fishing gear. If it wasn't that it was bikes. Or model trains. Or football season tickets."

"I'd think the girls would still win. All those clothes! Make-up, hairdos, shoes, accessories. That's before you start on the ballet gear or hockey kit or pony tackle or things like that."

"True." David sighed. "I often wonder what life would have been like if I'd had a daughter or two. Not that I grudge having the sons, you understand."

After the music ended a young blonde girl in a very short dress came out and sang in front of the band. She managed three numbers to very appreciative applause before the lights dimmed again and the band went back into smooch mode.

"Manage some more?"

"Just try and stop me."

When they got to the floor she wrapped herself around him and snuggled her head firmly on his chest. He was initially startled but held her close and spent the rest of the number with a smile on his face. They separated for applause at the end and then started the next dance, but he held her away from him slightly so that he could talk to her.

"Elaine, are you trying to tell me something?"

"Is it something that you need to be told?"

"No," he replied, "no, it isn't."

David took her around the floor in a semi-daze. An entirely chance meeting, in a part of the country he would never normally have come to, and an answer to a question he had never thought to ask himself. The fates had engineered their meeting, and it already seemed that they understood one another thoroughly. What an amazing thing! He was surprised when he realised the strength of the feelings growing inside himself. Perhaps enough time had passed, perhaps it was time to start again.

At the end of the number it was David who had to sit down. They didn't talk much, just enjoyed each other's nearness, knowing that something between them had changed. Eventually, the hall filled and they decided that they had done enough. As they walked back over the bridge, arm in arm, they both realised that it was entirely different to when they had originally crossed.

They made their way back to the car, and David had to scrape the ice from the windscreen before getting in. The journey back was silent, apart from Elaine's directions, since both were trying to figure out how to handle their situation. He parked the car in front of the cottage and Elaine opened up while he retrieved the shopping from the boot.

In the kitchen, Elaine asked, "Would you like a drink before you retire? Or do you want to talk at all?"

"Ah, no, thank you. It's quite late enough as it is. I think we'll do better in the morning when we're fresh and rested, don't you think? Do you want a hand putting that away?" He gestured at the shopping.

"No, thank you, David. I'll have to put it somewhere cool anyway to defrost. It's all totally frozen from being in your boot all day."

"We do need to have a talk tomorrow," he said, looking at her meaningfully, "before I leave you."

"We certainly do." She lifted a shopping bag. "You might as well go to the bathroom while I'm sorting these out."

"Goodnight then, Elaine."

"Goodnight, and thank you for a very special day."

Despite the fact that she had just had a long and active day, Elaine couldn't immediately get to sleep when she finally made it to bed. Too many thoughts were pounding through her head. Perhaps she should have had a night-cap. Her mind dwelled on David, on the way he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the soft but assured way he spoke, his firm but safe hand supporting her when they danced. She understood the signs all right, and she understood where they were leading her.

It was circumstance rather than deliberate policy that had kept them from kissing. She shuddered internally with expectation from imagining herself reaching her lips to meet his. It was perhaps just as well that they hadn't kissed, as it would make what had to happen tomorrow just that little bit more complicated, just that little harder to bear.

She knew that she had come to respect him so much that she could not bear to dissemble any further. Tomorrow she would have to tell him the truth.

---

Disclaimer: The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2009 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

3 - Sunday

David looked in the bathroom mirror as he rubbed his chin. A good shave could only be had with a proper wet razor, and he had been especially careful this morning. He wanted to look his best for Elaine, and she already knew that he was the sort of man who would take care with his appearance, even if a woman wasn't involved. He checked his side-burns before giving his face another wipe with the towel, and then pulled a fresh shirt on.

He was an old hand at this. Even though his original trip had been intended as just an overnight stop, he had packed extra in his travelling bag. He had been rung up too many times before, while away from home, with changes of plan to be caught out in that way any more.

How am I going to deal with this, he thought. His brain never considered that there was any other option. Is she an old maid, or has she had partners before? Said she had never married, but that doesn't mean she hasn't lived with someone. Is she set in her ways, or can she cope with handling an old chap like me? Come to that, am I going to be able to cope with her? I had thirty-five years with Ruby, and that's all I know. Elaine is, well, different. She's definitely not like Ruby, yet there's so much about her that just feels like we've been together for a long time. It would be nice not to be lonely for the rest of my life.

"Good morning, David. Did you sleep well?"

"Good morning. Yes, I did, thank you. I seem to be adapting to the quiet around here."

She smiled at him. "That's good. With the things we bought yesterday, I can offer you a Full English to set you up for your trip home, if you like. Unless you'd like a lighter option?"

He shook his head. "I think I'll accept just this once, thank you. My doctor tells me off for eating too much saturated fat, but once in a while is probably okay. Getting a good breakfast inside of me will set me up for the drive, specially as it's still so cold."

"So, bacon, eggs, beans, tomato, mushrooms. I can't do hash browns, but you can have some fried bread if you like."

"Sounds good. I haven't eaten fried bread since I was in the uniform branch, getting meals in the station canteen. That was long before 'they' decided that kind of meal was bad for you."

They both ate at the big kitchen table, talking about almost anything except the thing they both wanted to mention. Eventually, with the plates cleared away and just mugs of coffee in front of them, David spoke.

"I hope you won't think me forward, Elaine, but I would like very much to come and visit you again."

She arched an eyebrow. "Further enquiries?"

He made a dismissive motion with a finger. "No, that won't be necessary. That case will be closed next week. My interest is... purely personal."

"I would like that," she said simply. "We have each other's phone numbers and email addresses, you can contact me whenever you wish. This time of year, I'm usually in the house, so I should be near the phone."

"You do understand what I'm saying?" he persisted.

"Yes. I spent part of last night doing nothing but think about the wonderful time we had yesterday." She looked directly at him. "I'd like to have some more wonderful times, if I may. But, we both have other calls on our lives, and we know relatively little about one another, so we shouldn't rush."

"I agree. We're both mature adults, we can afford to take our time. But I would like us to be at least friends, even if it doesn't develop into anything more."

"I am honoured to add you to my select list of friends, David. I did that yesterday."

Despite the encouraging signs, David detected a hint of reserve in Elaine, although he decided that most of that was just nervousness. Heck, he was feeling light-headed himself. He decided to change the subject to try and relax them both.

"I see the fog has gone," he said.

She turned briefly in the direction of the outer door, which led to the conservatory. "Yes. The radio said a change was coming. It does mean that the roads will be even more icy, though. Would you like to come and have a look at the back of the cottage before you go? We can go into the conservatory."

The conservatory was warm, although not as warm as the rest of the cottage, due to the fact that it was all glass. The sky outside was a very pale blue, with not a cloud to be seen. The sun was low and shone very brightly, although at that time of year there would be virtually no heat to warm the ground. There was a rough table and four wicker chairs. A number of pots filled with large plants stood on the floor at various points. In a cleared area at one end of the conservatory stood an artist's easel, currently empty.

"Sometimes I bring paintings out here to finish," she said. "There have been occasions when I've started one down at the beach and then had to abandon because of approaching bad weather."

Beyond the glass of the conservatory was a rectangle of ground in which Elaine had planted vegetables. David guessed that she could probably feed herself entirely from her own land, judging by the amounts he could see. Beyond that again was a field, bordered by a low thorn hedge. In the field, looking thoroughly miserable even in the weak sunshine, stood small groups of sheep.

"This is quite a good space," he said. "I guess you can get inspiration for your work even from here."

They talked a little while about her painting, and then David decided that he had better be thinking about getting on the road. He sensed that Elaine had more to say, but he could understand her uncertainty. After all, this was a situation neither of them had remotely imagined happening, and it was disconcerting for both of them. As he followed her back into the kitchen he remembered something that had made him chuckle earlier as he was getting dressed.

"It's funny," he said. "I was thinking this morning, that you have some similarities with the person I'm chasing. You're both the same age, both from the East Midlands, you both had inheritances, you both bought Haystack Cottage, you both have an older brother, you both have two sisters, one older and one younger. If I wasn't so certain that you were obviously a mature woman, I would have almost thought you were the one I was after."

He had intended it as a throw-away remark, just to show that coincidences did happen, but the effect on Elaine was not what he expected. She moved away from him, to stand at the other end of the kitchen, and the look on her face was both tense and determined.

"David, before you go, there is a story that I have to tell you. I shall tell you the whole of it, and when I am finished I shall answer any questions you may have."

To say that David was surprised would be an understatement. Her next words were even more of a surprise.

"Once upon a time, there was a dysfunctional family who lived in the East Midlands. Oh, probably no more or less dysfunctional than any other family, but never mind. The father, let's call him Geoffrey, ran a successful building business. He had a wife, Annette, and four children, two sons and two daughters."

David started. Elaine knew about the case! Perhaps she had talked to Joseph when she had bought the cottage from him. Elaine now had his full attention as she continued talking.

"Robert was the eldest child. He was over six foot and heavily-built, just like his father. Elizabeth was the next child, and she too was well-built, but in a feminine way. She excelled at sports, and played both hockey and women's rugby for her school and after she left school. Joseph was the next child and he had a more delicate build, much like his mother's. I'll come back to him. The youngest was Jennifer, and she was petite. She was so small and agile that she did gymnastics and dance. It used to be a standing joke that each of the children was smaller than the previous one had been, and that if the mother had had a fifth child he or she would have been either a dwarf or an elf."

Too much information! What was going on? Perhaps Elaine had been Joseph's boyfriend or partner, and perhaps she had bought the cottage off Joseph when he went to Ireland. She looked him in the eye.

"But back to Joseph, since it's Joseph you want to hear about." She sighed abruptly. "Joseph wasn't like his older brother Robert. In fact, Joseph wasn't like most boys. Joseph was different. He had realised his difference from an early age. Bracketed by sisters, he wanted to be like them. He wanted to be a girl, to grow up into a woman.

"Unfortunately, back then, nobody understood these things they way they are understood these days. Certainly his father didn't. His father ruled his family very firmly, and at the first signs of Joseph wanting to do something different he corrected him firmly. Joseph learned very quickly to keep his opinions and aspirations to himself, or suffer the consequences."

This was a side of the Stricklands he had never heard about. Of all the outlandish theories he had come up with to explain the case, something like this had not been considered at all. Hardly surprising, really, but he had got no hint about this from interviews with the other Strickland children. Still, it provided a possible motive for Geoffrey's death.

"Nevertheless," Elaine continued, "Joseph couldn't stop, because that was what made him what he was. He experimented with his older sister's clothing and other belongings, and when he was big enough, his mother's things also. As far as he was aware, nobody ever found him out.

"At school, things became awkward. Joseph did all right academically, but showed no interest in the usual sports, to the fury of his rugby-loving father. Despite all attempts by his father, he managed to avoid having much to do with the local village rugby team, and in the end his father stopped trying. Joseph's strengths were rather in English, Dramatics, History and, yes, Art."

With another shock David suddenly realised who was standing in front of him, and he found it difficult to reconcile this gentle middle-aged woman with the person he had been trying to find. She had obviously prepared and rehearsed this account just for him, so despite the distress her story was visibly causing her, he let her continue with a nod.

"Like his brother and his sisters, Joseph left home at the earliest opportunity to go to college. Their father never understood just how his treatment of them had made them want to leave home as soon as possible. As soon as Joseph settled into college, he began to find out more about himself, and soon wanted to live his, or rather her, life the way that she wanted to live it. It proved impossible. Life in halls meant no privacy, and although he did occasionally dress up he was nervous in case he was taken for a gay man. No-one really understood trans-sexuals back then, and homosexuals were having a hard time out in the open.

"Joseph left college, and found a job with a management firm near the college as a systems trainer, instructing businesses how to use new computer systems efficiently. He found a flat near his firm and except when actually at work, began experimenting with living his life as a woman, preparing for the time when he might consider surgery. It was during this time that his mother died.

"His mother's death briefly reunited the family. The younger daughter Jennifer returned home to live, and Robert began taking an interest in the family business with a view to taking it over when his father retired. Joseph had been going home every month or so to see his mother, but after her death he went less often, especially as his father deteriorated. He kept in contact with Jennifer, though, to make sure that she was safe and well.

"The day of his d-death -" Elaine paused and briefly closed her eyes. David noted that she did not say 'murder', but kept quiet. Already his whole preconception of the case was changing, and he was prepared to hear it all.

"The day of Geoffrey Strickland's death," Elaine repeated, "Joseph had been at a client's site a few miles from the family house. He had avoided going near it when he could by using the new bypass round the village. He was driving a courtesy car, since his own was being serviced that day. It was a Friday, the last day of his training stint, and he had finished early at the client firm. On the way back, it occurred to him that he could pop back into the family home and pick up some things which had been left there from the time of his mother's death. His father had said that he was thinking of redecorating, and there were items in his old room his father ought not to see there. So that's what he did.

"When he got to the house there were no cars outside, so he parked and went in, using the house key he still kept. He went straight up to his bedroom and collected the hidden items, putting them into a white plastic laundry bag. He was halfway down the stairs when his father saw him, bag in hand. His father was drunk, but still capable of thinking. He went into a rambling rant about ungrateful children, I shan't bore you with the details. Then he saw the bag, and more to the point, because the bag was translucent he spotted the brightly coloured items inside. He grabbed the bag, it tore, and out spilled some of his dead wife's clothes."

"He went berserk, attacking Joseph. Joseph tried to defend himself, naturally, but his father was nearly twice his size, and you know how much strength someone can get when they are violent and drunk. The living room got smashed up. Joseph was chased into the kitchen, and chairs were overturned, things were swept off surfaces, it was mayhem. Joseph tripped on one of the fallen chairs and fell over. The block of kitchen knives had fallen over, his father picked up one of the knives and stumbled towards Joseph. Joseph put up his arm to protect himself as his father fell over a chair, and the knife nicked Joseph's arm."

Elaine paused, and asked David a question. "That's your new forensic evidence, isn't it? It was Joseph's blood on the knife, not Geoffrey's. That's why you're trying to find him." He nodded, unable to say anything. She continued, the pain of the memory plain on her face.

"Unfortunately, as Joseph's father fell over, he hit his head on the edge of the work surface. Joseph went to him and tried to help him, but there was no time. He - died almost immediately. Joseph panicked, being woman inside rather than man. He picked up his torn bundle and left the house in a hurry, stuffing the contents into the car and driving back the way he had arrived.

"As he got back to the bypass he began to cool down, and he realised he needed an alibi. It was too late to go back to the house and call the police, and he wasn't sure that the police would believe his story if he did. Added to that, the cross-dressing would inevitably come out and that wouldn't be good for anybody. So he turned onto the bypass and pulled into the first lay-by he came to.

"Immediately, he called the breakdown service that was contracted for the courtesy car. Once he had done that, he popped the bonnet, opened the fuse box and swapped several of the fuses about. Then he got back in and turned the key in the ignition. Naturally some of the fuses blew. He got out and put the fuses back in their original slots, then smeared blood from his cut arm on the edge of the bonnet. When the breakdown truck arrived, he said that the unfamiliar bonnet had dropped on his arm when he had tried to open it. The breakdown guy gave him a plaster for the cut, couldn't find out what was wrong with the car, and towed him back to the garage."

David nodded when told this. The original investigating team, of which he had been a part, had noted the call time for the breakdown service and concluded that Joseph had been nowhere near the house when his father had died. An intruder had always been the major theory that the police had had for the case.

"Of course, later on, Jennifer came home and found the body, and you were called in. By the time the police had contacted Joseph, he had collected his own car and gone back to his flat, taking the clothing with him. Why his mother's clothing? Well, it was like Goldilocks. Elizabeth was much bigger than Joseph, Jennifer was much smaller. He was the same size as his mother, clothing-wise, although a little taller. After his mother's funeral, his father had bagged up a lot of her clothes to be sent to a charity shop. Joseph noticed these bundles and went through them, taking a few things that would come in useful. After all, his mother wouldn't be needing them any more, and they would serve as a reminder of her memory.

"And that was that. The police were investigating a crime that hadn't happened, with a murderer that didn't exist, and none of the children was suspected. Do you want to hear the rest, Detective Chief Inspector? This is Joseph's story, you're entitled to hear it all."

David was stunned by the confession, which was the last thing he had expected to hear before leaving. He couldn't figure out his feelings at all. Relief that the case had been solved, certainly, but dismay that the potential relationship between himself and Elaine had been... wait a minute.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, puzzled. "If you had said nothing and just waved good-bye, I'd have been none the wiser. Why now, Elaine?"

She had backed against a work surface, her hands grasping the edge, her knuckles white with tension. He could guess how much it must have cost her to speak out. He was leaning against the big kitchen table himself, and he suspected that his knuckles were just as white as hers. As she spoke, the tears streamed from her eyes.

"It had to be you, didn't it? Anyone else and it probably wouldn't have mattered. But it was you. You who I had a wonderful day with yesterday, you who woke things inside of me I never knew were there. I so much wanted to have more wonderful days with you, but I couldn't do that and live a lie. I respect you too much for that. If we are to see one another any more, there can be no secrets between us, and I didn't dare leave it any longer before telling you in case I got snared more deeply."

David suddenly realised the terrifying problem she faced. She had fallen for the one person who could cost her, if not her liberty in the end, then at least a year of unwelcome legal process in the full glare of publicity. But she was not prepared to let even that ordeal get in the way of truth and honesty, she wanted it to be right with him from the start. He felt his heart break as he realised how much it had already cost her. He walked across the kitchen and enfolded her gently in his arms.

"There, there. Now I've found you, I'm not about to let you get away from me."

It was probably the worst way he could have phrased himself. At first Elaine had clutched him like a drowning woman but his words slackened her grip and her shoulders slumped. I've misjudged him! He doesn't care for me at all! I've given myself away, all to no purpose! Her tears were of desolation, of a dream turned into nightmare. David felt her slump in his arms, but didn't understand how he had affected her so badly. Suddenly realising that he'd done something wrong, he spoke again, softly.

"Hush, hush. I told you before, the trail is cold, the case closed. I'm not about to give you up to anybody. I want you for myself."

A huge wave of emotion flooded through her as she understood what he had said. I wasn't wrong after all. Now her tears flowed freely, tears of relief mixed with tears of joy. She clutched him firmly again, revelling in the comfort and protection he offered. He bent his head and spoke softly in her ear.

"I didn't realise you'd fallen as hard as I had. I was quite prepared to take my time, but I see I don't need to."

That started her off again, and he discovered that his eyes were distinctly damp as well. He held her gently, braced against the work surface, until her tears ceased and she composed herself. Then he placed one finger under her chin, lifted her head and kissed her gently on the forehead. She lifted her damp eyes, unable still to believe what had just happened, until she looked at his face and saw that it was true. Then she lifted her face to his, and they kissed.

After a while, he thought it would be wise to move.

"Come and sit down, my dear," he said, leading her to the table and pulling out a chair for her. He looked around for tissues, finding none, and settled for kitchen paper instead, tearing sheets from the roll and giving to her to dab her face with. The front of his shirt was wet through and he pulled another couple of sheets off to try and blot his chest dry, brushing away the wetness from his own eyes as he did so. He pulled out another chair and sat, closely facing her.

"I don't think I've ever been more amazed in my entire professional career," he said softly. "I could never in my wildest dreams have worked out what really happened. I meant what I said, before. What you have told me today I shall never pass on to anyone else, unless you tell me to do so yourself. If what you have told me is the truth, and I have no doubt at all that it is, then it seems you are not to blame for what happened to your father."

She dabbed her face with the paper, her eyes fixed on his the whole time. Her emotions had swung from one extreme to the other and back again over a few short minutes, and it had knocked the energy out of her. She was glad that he was here, glad that someone who understood would stand beside her when she needed support.

"I think, before we say any more," he broke in, "that we'd better have something to drink, even though it's not been that long since we finished breakfast."

David stood and immediately went and filled the kettle and switched it on. Despite the fact that he had never originally envisaged returning to her kitchen ever again, he had remembered where everything was kept and soon had cups, saucers and teapot ready on the table, while Elaine watched him with wonder. He poured the tea and insisted on Elaine taking a sip before sitting and facing her again.

His brow furrowed. "I'm still slightly puzzled," he said. "When we realised that the blood on the knife was yours, we did all the usual checks in case Joseph Strickland had changed his name somewhere along the way, it's standard procedure. I don't recall anything coming up, so are you living here under an assumed name, or is there something about the gender business that happens differently to a normal change of name?"

She gave him a wan smile. "I told you there was more to tell, although it doesn't concern the death of -" she made a visible pause before she could finish her sentence, "- my father. Shall I -"

David waved a hand. "By all means. Though if you think it would be too much, then you can leave it for another day. After all, we've all the time in the world now."

Her eyes started streaming again, and he just wanted to get up and hold her close, to look after her. He understood, though, that it was important for her to purge herself of the past, to let someone share her terrible secrets before she could progress, so he stayed in his chair and just reached out a hand. She grasped it with one of hers while she mopped her face with the other.

"Okay then," she resumed eventually. "There were two people at the place I worked who didn't like me, and who found out that I'd been dressing as a woman. They started a number of nasty rumours about me, using words like queer, pervert, paedophile. None of which was anywhere near true. I was forced to leave the job and move to another town, but the rumours followed me, and I had to move again and again."

David nodded. "We wondered at the moving around, and that aroused our suspicions when the case was re-opened."

She shook her head. "It was purely because of these poisonous people, who just wouldn't let it drop. Unfortunately, since my father's death we'd all become quarter shareholders in the firm, so that anyone could find out where I lived quite easily by applying to Companies' House. After a year of this, I wanted to sell my share of the firm to the others, but they couldn't help. If anything, they wanted to sell as well, since although the firm was doing quite well none of us were that interested in the business. By chance another firm nearby suggested a merger, so we gratefully sold it to them for a reasonable price and divided the proceeds four ways.

"Around that time, I had discovered that people would pay money for my paintings, so I took a risk and bought this house. Rather Joseph did. The couple who had built it had overspent rather badly, and couldn't stay living in it. No-one wanted it because it was too experimental for the time, so I ended up with it at a reduced price. By that time, the isolation and the access to the sea seemed to be just what I needed. However, by some means I was found again and I had to find a way to make them think I'd moved elsewhere.

"The isolation meant that I could practice being a woman without any distractions, but I was careful to keep Joseph around as well. I'd spent most of my share of the money on the cottage, so I was living very frugally for a while. That's why I have such a good kitchen garden, I could never have afforded to buy vegetables a lot of the time, even out here. Fortunately, the O'Malley inheritance turned up just when I thought I'd backed myself into a corner."

"Oh, yes, the O'Malley inheritance," David said. "That was a fair pile of money, wasn't it?"

"Yes, even divided six ways, us four and two cousins. And none of us had the slightest inkling that it was there at all. Well, with all that money I worked out a way to cover my tracks and stay where I was, and that was for Joseph Strickland to sell the cottage to Elaine Williams, and move to Ireland."

"You mean you sold the cottage to yourself?"

"In essence, yes. But there was a twist that I, that Joseph, could do which I discovered when I went to Ireland to talk to the solicitors about the bequest. Because my mother was an Irish citizen, I was eligible for an Irish passport. So I applied for and was issued one - in the name of Joseph O'Malley."

"Oh! I see. That was clever. So how did you handle that?"

"It required a bit of thought, but I'd had a lot of time to think about it. I rented a room in Manchester for a short period. Joseph Strickland went to Ireland by plane from Birmingham to Dublin to see his solicitor, and to drop hints that he was thinking of staying in Ireland. Joseph O'Malley crosses the border and catches a plane from Belfast to Manchester. He goes to his rented room and Elaine Williams emerges. She travels down here to talk to the estate agents and conclude the sale, complaining all the time about how long Joseph Strickland is taking answering the letters. The same thing in reverse when Joseph Strickland is needed for any purpose. Once the sale is concluded and the money shuffled around from account to account, Joseph Strickland vanishes from sight.

"So, it's Joseph O'Malley who does the Real Life Test, Joseph O'Malley who takes a holiday to Thailand for gender reassignment surgery, and Joseph O'Malley who legally changes his name to Elaine Williams, and comes to live here permanently." She sighed. "And lives here quietly and happily until a charming man knocks on her door to talk about things she long thought buried."

David smiled. "I'm sorry, I must have caused you a great shock."

"Yes and no. I thought that my careful disguising of my trail would be enough, and it seems that it would have. The only problem was -"

"I got stuck here and we ended up dancing together," he finished for her. "If you're willing, I want to do a lot more dancing with you."

It was after lunch when David finally departed. He had considered staying another night and calling in sick in the morning, but decided that he needed to present a normal face to the world, get back to routine. However, he had made firm promises to call Elaine when he got home, and he had decided that he would call her every night from then on. He also decided to see if there were any way his retirement could be speeded up, because he couldn't wait to get back to the house once known as 'Haystack Cottage' and the one person who would brighten the rest of his life.