James Craig: Then We Die

‘Thank you,’ said Ken Walton, happily dropping a couple of cucumber sandwiches onto his plate. ‘Lorna has told me so much about you all. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.’

Refusing to look at her son, Lorna Gordon nodded sagely as she sipped her peppermint tea.

Looking Walton up and down, the inspector wondered what his dad was doing right now — probably sitting in his shitty little bedsit, looking through the record collection he couldn’t play. Seated in the Palm Court with his mother and her new boyfriend, he felt a mixture of guilt and embarrassment. At least Helen had been pressganged into coming along, too. She had been in a foul mood since Avalon’s board had decided to pull out of Gaza, and Carlyle hoped that this little outing would help take her mind off work troubles for a short while.

He glanced at his wife for some moral and spiritual support, but in return simply got a look that said For God ’ s sake, say something .

‘So,’ Carlyle mumbled, ‘how did you two meet?’ Grabbing a slice of lemon cake from his plate, he took a large bite.

‘Lorna and I have known each other for a long time,’ Walton replied vaguely.

Carlyle gave his mother an enquiring look. ‘Oh, is that right?’

Lorna put her cup back on the saucer and placed a gentle hand on Helen’s forearm. ‘And how is Alice?’ she asked, changing the subject with a lack of subtlety for which the Carlyle family had long been famous.

Helen looked at Carlyle and grinned. ‘She’s not on the best form, to be honest. She’s just split with her boyfriend and things are a bit — well, tense.’

‘It’s just part of the growing up process,’ Carlyle remarked.

Head down, Ken Walton gave the cucumber sandwiches his full attention.

‘These things are always hard to take,’ said Lorna, effortlessly ignoring her son’s churlishness. ‘She will snap out of it soon enough.’

Helen smiled sadly. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t help things by getting into a row with the boy’s mother.’

‘Ach,’ said the older woman, ‘the child’s still very young. It’s right that you are still getting involved.’ She glanced at Carlyle with amusement. ‘There will be plenty of time for her to make mistakes all on her own.’

Gritting his teeth, Carlyle said nothing. Instead he scanned the restaurant, hoping to spy some outrageous criminal activity in progress that might serve to rescue him from this latest domestic nightmare. Sadly, this time round, there was none to be found.