Quintin Jardine: Gallery Whispers

He shook his head at once. 'No. Absolutely not. That's only happened to me that one time, a couple of days after it happened.'

'Something else then?' She rolled on to her back and looked up at him, frowning. 'Not Ariel, surely.'

He smiled at her concern: a small, sad smile. 'No, no; not her. That was a long time ago, and she's dead. She never really existed, in fact.'

'Ah but she did. And so did her brother. Once or twice… no, more than that… I've wakened in the night thinking of him, and had to hang on to you, to drive the fright away.'

'Nonetheless, they're in the past.'

'So?' she demanded. 'What's bugging you?'

'Nothing,' he insisted. 'I just can't sleep.'

No one could snort like Alex. 'Andy Martin,' she exclaimed, as she propped herself up on both elbows. 'You are one of the world's great sleepers. If you are lying awake in the dark, there is some reason for it. Come on, out with it.'

He reached out his left hand to cup her breast, but she shied away from him. 'That won't work. Tell me, what's the problem?'

He looked into her eyes. 'I think we might be.'

She frowned, quickly. 'Rubbish,' she said at once, but there was a defensiveness in her voice which proved she didn't believe her own denial.

He reached out his hand again, touching her forehead as if to rub away the frown lines. 'Alexis Skinner,' he whispered. 'You can tell me all night that there's nothing wrong, but you still won't make either of us believe it. I'm afraid… and I mean that literally, because it does scare me… that you and I are losing our way.

'When we got together, we had a shared vision of what we wanted: each other, above all else. I still feel that way. If I had to I'd give up everything I have, and walk away from everything I've achieved, just to be with you.

'But you've changed.'

'I haven't,' she protested. 'I love you just as much as I always did.

I want you just as much.'

'Then why do you keep changing your mind about marrying me?'

'I haven't. Anyway, that's not the issue.'

He grunted. 'No, it's not, is it. It's the issue that's the issue.'

'Ah, now we're getting to it.' She fired back at him, suddenly.

'You're still on about the baby thing. I thought we'd agreed that we'd start thinking about a family in five years.'

'Aye,' he said, 'but there's a basic principle wrapped up in there, isn't there, about levels of commitment to each other.'

Her frown was back. 'Ah,' she countered. 'Andy says that he'd walk away from everything for Alex, so she must say the same thing. Is that it?' It was his turn to look defensive. 'That's sentimental, emotional, hypothetical crap, and not worthy of you. You've had achievements; you've got a successful career that you say you'd give up for love; well, good for you, boy. But surely I'm entitled to some professional fulfilment of my own? Or are you really and truly saying that you expect me to put aside all my ambitions to satisfy your need to extend your line?'

'Hey, hey,' he soothed her. 'I'm not saying that at all. Apart from your dad, there's no one who thinks more of your ability and your potential than I do. I'm sorry about going back to the baby thing. That was a cheap shot. Listen, if you want to become the managing partner of Curie Anthony and Jarvis, I'll back you all the way. If you want to become a QC, I'm all for that too.

'I don't begrudge you your ambitions, my darling. But I'm coming to believe that as you pursue them, you'll leave me behind; you'll outgrow me. I'm afraid that's starting to happen already. When we got together you were a student. Now you've been marked out for stardom within your firm. And I can see the effect it's having on you.

'For the last few days, there have been times when I've had the feeling that you've been trying to distance yourself from me in some way. Deny it if you will, but that's how I see it. and I can only blame it on one thing; Curie Anthony and bloody Jarvis.'

He shifted his weight on his elbow. 'Listen, I do my job damn well, I think, and I'm completely committed to it, but I'm not in love with it. You are with yours. One day you may feel that you have to choose between it and me, and maybe that day's coming close. That's what keeps me awake at night.'

She leaned over and kissed him. 'Would it help if we got married next month?' she asked.

He looked sadder than ever. 'No, love, it wouldn't. If my fears are real, it wouldn't change a damn thing. You have to be all you can be, with, or if it has to be, without me. You're your father's daughter, and I can't change that.'

'So what are you saying?'

He gave a sigh so deep that her hair moved on its breeze. 'I suppose I'm asking myself whether it will hurt even more later than it would if we split now… if I backed off to let you concentrate full time on your career.

'I know how I would feel about it. But maybe for both our sakes, you should ask yourself the same question.' He looked at her solemn face, at her averted eyes. 'Yes, maybe you'

As if it had been waiting for the perfect moment to intervene, the bedside phone burst into life. 'Fucking thing has a mind of its own,' Martin snarled, but still he turned to pick it up. 'Yes!' he snapped.

'Sorry Andy,' said Brian Mackie, on the other end of the line, 'but I've just had a call out to a suspicious death, in a steading development out near Whitekirk. From what I've been told it's a murder for sure.

I'm just leaving for the scene. Do you want to turn out?'

The Head of CID looked at his fiancee, hating what he saw in her eyes. 'Aye,' he answered. 'I think that would be a good idea.'

James Andrew Skinner had always been, by any reasonable measurement, a considerate child. But cutting back teeth can upset the calmest temperament, so Sarah and Bob had shared floor-walking duties until finally, at around five am, their younger son had settled down.

They had been asleep themselves for little more than an hour when Brian Mackie had called, to ask Sarah if she could attend the scene of the Whitekirk death.

Bob sat at the kitchen table, nursing his first coffee of the day, watching his wife as she fed frozen bread into the four-slice toaster.

He grinned at her. 'I never fail to be impressed by the way you can eat breakfast before you go out to look at a body.'

She turned towards him, returning his smile. 'Ah, but it doesn't always stay down,' she countered. 'Remember that one in Advocates'

Close, before we were married?'

Skinner shuddered as the vision of that wet November morning reprinted itself in his mind's eye, for the thousandth time. 'How could I ever forget it? I was perfectly okay at murder scenes up until then, but from that moment on I haven't looked at a victim without feeling queasy.' ''

'Think yourself lucky then. Now you're Deputy Chief Constable … acting Chief, even… you don't have to do that any more.'

He knew that her remark was bait, but he rose to it nonetheless.

'Not so. I'll always lead from the front as long as I'm in this job, you know that. I might be past my sell-by date when it comes to looking at people who've been burned to a crisp or had their brains blown all over the walls, but it doesn't mean I'll run away from the duty if I think that it's required of me.

'It doesn't matter what office I'm in, if I think it'll help the effort or if I feel that it's expected of me, I'll be there.'

Her eyes narrowed, very slightly. 'What? "It doesn't matter what office I'm in",' she threw back at him. 'Hey, what happened to all that stuff about you not wanting to be a Chief Constable? Are you getting to enjoy sitting in Jimmy's chair?'

He smiled again, this time at her sharpness in leading him onto her hook. He accepted the slice of buttered toast which she offered him, and took a bite. 'I'll never enjoy sitting in Jimmy's chair,' he said finally. 'Precisely because it is his chair. I want to see him make a full recovery from this heart scare, and come back to work. Then I want him to stay in post… health permitting.-.. right up to retirement age.