Chapter 58
703 Words
58 Three weeks later
Wendy was jolted from her painkiller-induced light sleep by the sound of her doorbell. She barely registered the antiques auction programme on the TV before muting it, rising to her feet and heading slowly towards the front door.
She looked through the spyhole and recognised the person in front of her immediately. She opened the door.
‘Xav. What are you doing here?’ she said, her voice sounding strained.
‘I heard what happened to you. Well, that sounds stupid. Everyone heard what happened to you. But, I mean, I wanted to give you a bit of space and time after getting home before... Well, I just wanted to say hi.’
Wendy smiled and let out a small laugh. ‘Come in, Xav.’
He followed her inside, through the hallway and into the small but well-decorated living room.
‘So, how are you bearing up?’ he asked, sitting down in an armchair.
‘I’ve been better.’
‘You’ve looked better, too.’
‘You know I can just kick you back out again, right? I’ve not lost my fighting skills.’
‘Pity you didn’t use them a few weeks back. Then you wouldn’t need that daft thing round your neck.’
Wendy laughed. It hurt like hell, but she didn’t mind.
‘I’d offer you a glass of wine, but I don’t think you deserve one after that,’ she said, sitting down.
‘There are a lot of things I don’t deserve,’ Xav said, bowing his head. ‘Listen, I overreacted before. I know the job’s horrendous and that it’s always going to get in the way. Policing and relationships don’t mix. I know that. But sometimes things are worth trying extra hard for, don’t you think?’
Wendy had to agree.
‘Listen. Wendy. I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking a lot over the past few weeks. I know I need to be a lot more accepting of the fact that your job’s going to get in the way. I’m going to have to be patient. And I don’t mind that. Some things are worth waiting for.’
Wendy looked at him and smiled.
Jack Culverhouse closed the front door behind him and let out a huge sigh. Work had been hell for the past three weeks or so, with the team being two officers down at a time when they were trying to tie up the loose ends and prepare the materials on Operation Mandible for the Crown Prosecution Service.
A fantastic waft of aromas hit him square in the face as he headed towards the kitchen. Emily was standing in front of the stove, stirring a saucepan.
‘What’s this?’ he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
‘I wanted to cook for you,’ his daughter said. ‘Thought you might like it.’
‘Looks like beef stroganoff,’ he said. His favourite meal.
‘It is. I found a recipe online. Thought I’d have a go. Does it smell okay?’
He smiled. ‘It smells beautiful, darling.’
‘Good. Now, pour yourself a glass of wine and sit down.’
He was confused. His daughter certainly had her kind moments, but this wasn’t like her at all. As she reached to grab a bowl from the sideboard, he noticed some marks on the inside of her forearm as her top rode up her arm, only to be quickly pulled back down again. They looked to him very much like cuts.
‘What’s going on?’ he said.
Emily looked at him, but seemed to misunderstand his question. ‘The case is over, isn’t it? You said you were handing it over today.’
‘Yes. Yes, all done from our side of things.’
There were a number of things still left unanswered, as far as he was concerned. That was often the way following an investigation. It was difficult to separate the lies from the truths and to understand exactly why someone would commit such a crime, but that was down to the courts and the newspapers to decide. His job was to gather enough evidence to be able to charge. As far as he was concerned, he’d done his bit. The rest would all come out in the wash.
‘Good. You can relax then, can’t you?’ she said, pouring a glass of chilled sauvignon blanc into his glass. ‘Can I have some?’
‘Em, you’re not even fourteen.’
‘So? It’s not illegal. I didn’t buy it. I’m under adult supervision. And I’m in my own home.’
He looked at the wine, then at Emily, and smiled. He didn’t think she’d ever referred to it as home before. She’d lived here as a child before her mother had taken her away, so he guessed technically it was her home. But hearing her say it immediately lifted all his worries. For now, at least.
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘A small drop.’
Dead & Buried
- Writer
