Quintin Jardine - Fallen Gods

"You can get me another g and t, if you like. And remember, no lemon."

"I know you don't take lemon."

Maggie smiled cheerfully. "Sorry. I said it just in case you got me confused with someone else." The thought crossed his mind that she might be having more than her second drink, but he took the heavy tumbler from her without comment.

He was back in less than a minute, a tin of Stella Artois in one hand and his wife's gin and tonic in the other. He handed it to her and settled on to the couch beside her. "Okay," he said. "What have you got to tell me?"

"A few things, but first things first. I had a call late this afternoon from our very efficient solicitor. The deal is done with the

Chamberlains. We've agreed to surrender custody, and they've agreed without prompting that Rufus can spend four weeks out of every year, outside the school terms of course, with his big sister and brother-in-law."

In spite of himself, Mario let the pang of regret that shot through him show on his face. "That was quick," he muttered.

"No point in hanging about; it wouldn't have been fair to keep the child in limbo."

"When?"

"They're driving up on Saturday. They'll come to pick him up on Sunday morning and go straight back to Hampshire. That means you can still take him out this weekend."

"No," he countered, 'it means we can. We'll both take him somewhere; give him a treat."

"Work permitting."

"Fuck work. Some things are more important."

Maggie drained a third of her gin and tonic. "Bloody hell!" she exclaimed. "Was that Mario McGuire who just said that? The next head ofCID?"

"What's got into you, tonight?" he asked, smiling for the first time since he had come in. "Apart from half a bottle of gin, that is. Hope you put the wee fella to bed the right way up."

Maggie chuckled. "He's fine, don't you worry. Sound asleep."

"So I guess I'm making the dinner."

Somehow, without him noticing, the distance between them on the couch had closed. What he did notice was that her robe had loosened, and that her right breast had slipped loose. "Maybe I've got other plans," she whispered. Holding her glass steady she stood up; the sash of her dressing gown untangled and the garment fell open. "Someone I like very much gave me a pep-talk today; and some very sound advice too.

I've decided to follow it."

"And have you got to get drunk to do it?" he asked, as he looked up at her.

"If that's what it takes, won't it be worth it? Come on." She turned and walked, steadily and purposefully, towards the door. Mario rose and followed her.

When he reached what had become her bedroom, the silk gown was on the floor, and the glass was on the bedside cabinet, empty. She stood there naked, as full-bodied and surprisingly provocative as ever she had been. As he gazed at her, she moved towards him and began to unbutton his shirt. He saw that her hand was trembling; the drink had not dulled her fear of what they were about to do. He held it and stilled it, then ripped off his tie with one hand.

And then their eyes met.

"You don't really want this, do you?" she asked, with the hint of a sob in her voice.

He shook his head. "No. And neither do you. Even if the thing itself was nothing to you, you wouldn't really want to; not with me. Isn't that true?"

She nodded. "It is," she exclaimed, with a great sadness. "It's got nothing to do with Paula, either. It's you, Mario. It's in your eyes when you look at me. You know all there is to know about me, and what happened to me, and because of it, you can't keep distaste from showing in your eyes. You'll try if I really ask you, because you care for me and you're a good man, but it'll always be there, and you'll never be able to help it. I'm not the same person I was to you before, and I never can be again."

He looked at her, saying nothing, but admitting with his eyes the truth of what she said.

"But it's me too," she went on, 'for exactly the same reason. Because you know, you can't ever be the same person to me again either."

"No," he muttered at last. "I can't. We're done, Mags."

He stepped over to what had been their bed, and sat on it, heavily. "I had a pep-talk myself today," he said. "Neil was the unexpected visitor I mentioned. He came to see me about something he's working on, but then he got ripped into me, about the way I've been behaving, about the way people have seen me treat you. He made me realise that I was fooling myself, thinking we could go on as we were."

"Not you alone," she told him, 'but us. I thought I'd be fine with the way it was. I was even going to send Paula flowers and a thank you note."

"Hah! She'd have loved that. No, Mags, if I was a bit short when I came in tonight, it was because I'd worked myself up to tell you that

I'm leaving, as soon as Rufus goes. For a moment there, I thought there was a glimmer, but you're right; it's gone too far for us both.

What I really wanted you to believe, though, and I still do, is that I'm doing it for the reason Neil more or less battered into me; I'm doing it for your sake, and for the sake of your career."

She sat beside him, and took his hand. "I do believe you," she whispered. "Like I said, you're a good guy." She paused. "Will you go to Paula?"

He shook his head at once. "No. That would be as wrong as if I stayed. I'm not being seen to leave you and move in with another woman."

"Will you keep seeing her?"

"Would it bother you?"

"Not a bit. And why should it, if it hasn't up to now?"

"Then to be honest with myself as well as you, I probably will. It might fizzle out, or it might go on for thirty years. Who knows? But I don't think we'll ever live together. I don't know if I ever told you, but the family trust owns Uncle Beppe's place. Auntie Sophia's going to live with Nana Viareggio for good, so it's going begging. I'll move in there, and you can stay on in this house, if you want to,"

"Don't you want your share of it?"

He grinned, and shook his head. "I don't need it, honey. Anyway, you'll have this and more coming in a property split."

"No!" Her vehemence surprised him. "You give me this house and that'll do me. I don't want any more. I owe you, Mario. I owe you my life, and I'll never forget it. I'm not going to stay here for long, though."

"I can understand that. That's a deal then. I'll clear off what's left of the mortgage and you can sell it." He paused. "Of course, maybe if we both moved somewhere else, together…"

She squeezed his hand, and gave him a sad smile. "You don't really believe that, any more than I do. You said it earlier; we're done. It wasn't all bad, though, was it?"

"No, it was not. In fact, I have to tell you that if you were, like you say, faking it all along, you had your act honed to perfection."

"You gave me plenty of practice." She was suddenly aware of her nakedness. She picked up the silk robe and put it on. "So, you want to go and get a take-away?" she asked, matter-of-fact. "You must be starving."

He stood up from the bed, and retrieved his tie. "Yeah, okay. Pizza, kebab, or curry?"

"Fish and chips."

He laughed. "Trust you to be difficult." He put his hand on the door knob, then stopped. "Mags, tell me something. When did it all go down the pan?"

She took a quick breath. "When I told you about myself, all about myself. I think we were done from then on. If I'd done it at the very start, maybe we'd never have got married, and then we'd have been spared the grief."

"In that case," he replied, "I'm glad you didn't. For the good times we had, the grief's been well worth it."

"Bob, you have to head Brady off before he embarrasses himself," Sarah protested. "He can't possibly imagine that Ian Walker could have had anything to do with Ron's death."