Martin Edwards - The Frozen Shroud

She still had her head in her hands when Les Bryant looked in to say goodnight.

Hannah stood at the door of Balotelli’s and scanned the bar. Terri was perched on a high stool by the counter, as unmissable as a bird of paradise on a dry stone wall. Since their last get together at a curry evening during the Kendal Festival of Food, she’d dyed her hair a vivid red to match her lips and fingernails. To have poured herself into that tiny skirt, she must have lost close to a stone in quick time. But then, Terri never did things by halves. She was wearing lashings of musky perfume, and she’d already finished her first Bacardi and coke of the evening. At least, Hannah hoped it was her first.

‘Sorry I’m late.’

‘No problem. Someone’s got to keep the thin blue line intact, eh?’

‘Easier said than done. The ACC is downsizing my team. Left to her, the cold cases would freeze.’

‘Stupid bitch,’ Terri said. ‘What are you drinking? Please, not orange juice again.’

‘I was planning to drive home tonight, stone cold sober.’

‘Forget it. Call a cab, like me.’

‘Okay, you win. I’ll have a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Small one.’ This might just turn into a very long evening. ‘Stay with me at Undercrag overnight. It’s safer than going home. What if Stefan’s lurking in the shadows when the cab drops you at your front door?’

‘It’s okay, thanks, I’m sorted for tonight.’

So that explained why she’d gone overboard on the perfume. Hannah peered at her friend. ‘What have you arranged?’

‘God, I wouldn’t like to be a suspect you took in for questioning. No third degree, please, I’m not in the mood.’

‘There’s something different about you. Not just your hair colour. Which I love, by the way.’

‘Thanks, sweetheart. I refuse to think about all the petrochemicals that go into caring for it. As for what else has changed, you’re the detective, I’ll give you three guesses. Sorry, deductions.’

‘You haven’t …’

Terri smirked. ‘I might have.’

Well, well. So she’d finally gone for it. Those bags under Terri’s eyes, legacy of countless late nights and chip suppers, and cause of more angst than all her cellulite, wrinkles and weight issues put together, had vanished. There was still a touch of swelling, but any bruises that remained had been skilfully camouflaged. The pair of them had often debated cosmetic surgery. Hannah had no time for it, and she’d given Marc short shrift when he made the mistake of wondering aloud if implants might be worth the money. Terri was more than happy to give Mother Nature a helping hand, if only she could afford it.

‘How much did that cost, if you don’t mind my asking?’

‘My lips are sealed — and not because I’ve gone in for a trout pout!’ Terri was gleeful. ‘Honestly, I can’t imagine why I’ve waited so long. It’s not that I’m such a horribly vain old cow. Deep down, I’m shy and retiring, happy to fade into the background.’ This last was an outrageous untruth, and Hannah struggled not to gasp. ‘It’s about changing my life, and boosting morale, and the plan has worked a treat. A single day being treated like royalty in this posh private hospital, and hey presto! I look ten years younger and feel like a teenager on the pull again.’

‘You look fantastic. Then again, you always do.’

Terri squeezed her hand. ‘Thanks for not scolding me, Han. I know you disapprove.’

‘I’d never do it myself, but everyone has to make up their own mind. Free country.’

‘Is it? Sometimes I wonder. But really, the surgery has made such a difference. Especially with this palaver about Stefan and everything.’

‘The big issue with Stefan Deyna is how to kick him out of your life.’

Not that Hannah was necessarily well qualified to advise on dumping a troublesome ex-partner, given how hard she was finding it to ditch a second-hand bookseller who, for all his faults, was a thousand times gentler than Stefan.

‘Sorry I acted like a wet Kleenex when I rang you. He’s behaved like an utter shit, but everything will be fine in the long run.’

A thought struck Hannah. ‘He didn’t … contribute to the cost of the surgeon, did he?’

‘No way!’ Terri squeaked in outrage. ‘What do you take me for? As a matter of fact, he hates my new look. He thinks these changes are about making a brand new me, and for once, he’s dead right.’

‘Shall we order some food, if you need to get away before it’s too late?’

Terri frowned, weighing pros and cons. ‘Actually, I’m desperate for a wee. Back in a minute.’

If she did want to blend into the scenery, the crimson lips and talons, tight top and black micro-skirt weren’t the right way to go about it. Threading through the salivating office workers who circled the bar, she seemed not to notice the threat she posed to their blood pressure, but Hannah knew she was lapping up the attention. The blink-and-you-miss-it wiggle of the bum was the proof. Oh well, good luck to her. Terri dressed to kill not only because she loved to look great, but as her way of coping. Time after time, life knocked her over, but she never failed to dust herself down and start again.

Hannah took a quick peek at her emails while she waited. The estate agent said someone was interested in Undercrag. Time to think about where to move next. The house was ideal when they were a couple, but too rambling and expensive for either of them to live there alone. A pity, since she adored the solitude, hidden away from the bustle yet only a stiff walk from the centre of Ambleside. Perhaps the truth was that she was a loner, happiest in her own company, and unsuited to the give-and-take of a long-term relationship. Funny, she’d once imagined she would end up in a conventional marriage with two point four children, maybe working part-time behind the scenes for Cumbria Constabulary. But the clock ticked on, and with each passing year the fantasy existence faded further away.

‘Would you care for a drink?’

A man resembling a pinstriped Friar Tuck had detached himself from a group of middle-aged men in sleek suits that didn’t adequately hide their paunches. They were talking loudly about football, but looked as though they’d never scored in their lives. Bankers out on the razzle after a day spent inflicting further damage on the economy?

‘No, thanks.’

After the day she’d had, she wouldn’t give Jude Law a second glance. To her relief, she saw Terri weaving her way back to her side. The man permitted himself a leer, and when Terri responded with a look she might bestow on a maggot emerging from a chocolate cake, he scuttled off to the safety of debate about the destiny of the Premier League title.

‘They never learn,’ she said.

‘Perhaps we don’t, either,’ Hannah said.

‘Yeah, well. Change of plan. Can I take you up on your kind offer? I’d love to stay over. I was bothered because you need to work in the morning, but one late night won’t hurt, eh?’

What plan had she changed? ‘Are you sure it suits you?’

‘What could be better than spending the night with my best mate?’

Historically, she’d preferred to spend the night with her latest unworthy loser. The reticence to explain Plan A suggested that Hannah wouldn’t approve of it.

‘Just like old times, then?’

Terri’s face broke into the smile that always melted Hannah’s heart, even when they’d been fighting cat and dog. They’d met at school, and bonded as fast as superglue, thanks to a shared hatred of their games teacher. Terri was the daredevil, forever getting into trouble; Hannah provided the shoulder to cry on. She was the one who felt uncomfortable unless she played by the rules. Was the secret of their enduring friendship — that each of them wanted to be more like the other?