Martin Edwards - The Frozen Shroud

‘What shall we have, then?’ Hannah picked up a menu. ‘A poster in the window said a Neil Diamond tribute act starts in half an hour. Let’s order a bottle of something, and then if he’s hopeless, the booze will dull the pain.’

‘You still know how to get round me, kid.’ Terri clapped her hands, as enthusiastic as she had been back in Year 7. ‘We’re gonna have a great night, aren’t we? Just like old times.’

Before Marc came along, in other words. They’d still seen plenty of each other, but the combination of long hours at work and Marc’s tendency to monopolise meant that Hannah often had to say no when Terri asked her out. Hannah had never married, while Terri had trotted down the aisle no fewer than three times, but Terri was always up for a night on the town, and if her man of the moment didn’t like it, he could lump it.

A young and rather handsome waiter called Giovanni found them a table in the restaurant, chatting them up as he did so. Morale duly boosted, Terri demanded to know the state of play with Marc.

‘He’s becoming a pest. Nothing like as awful as the hassle you’re experiencing at the moment, but …’

‘You’re sure it’s over and done with between you?’

‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

Terri had gone out for a drink with Marc before things started to get heavy with Stefan, and she admitted to fancying him. Was she was paving the way for a shift from casual flirtation to full-on affair?

Hannah’s face gave her away, and Terri put down her glass and said, ‘Hey, don’t get the wrong idea. Not many women would kick him out of bed, but we never got further than a peck on the cheek, and we’re not going to. Trust me.’

‘I wouldn’t be upset.’ Hannah laughed. ‘You’d be doing me a favour. I can’t wait for him to get fixed up with someone else, so that he’ll stop bugging me. He and I both need to move on.’

‘Watch my lips. I’m definitely not moving on with Marc, that’s not an answer to your prayers. You ought to try my method. Let him see you canoodling with a new man, so he understands he’s history.’ She leant across the table. ‘Talking of history, where are you up to with Daniel Kind?’

‘Not seen him for ages. Too busy.’

Terri swallowed a chunk of garlic bread. ‘You’re crazy, you know that? Absolutely off your lovely head. The guy used to be on television, for God’s sake!’

‘Am I that shallow?’

A whoop of laughter. ‘Well, I might be. Why not? That ditzy journalist he was shagging has gone back to London. I reckon he only teamed up with her on the rebound after the other girl topped herself in Oxford. If you ask me, he’s done his grieving. He’ll be looking to settle down with someone else before long, you mark my words. Snap him up while he’s still on the market.’

Hannah groaned. ‘You’re impossible.’

‘Come on, sweetheart. Joking apart, you obviously enjoy his company, and he fancies you like mad.’

‘You’re imagining it.’

‘Trust me. I’m never wrong about these things.’

‘Of course you are.’

‘Well, anyway. I’m not wrong about Daniel. He’s only held back because he’s had some bruising experiences in the past. That’s why he comes over as introspective. But once you get past the barriers, he’s a fun guy. Go for it, kid. Hurry now, while stocks last.’

‘It’s not that simple.’

‘Bollocks. You enjoy making things complicated.’ Terri slurped down the rest of her wine and glared. ‘Or is that the old inferiority complex? You never think you’re good enough, do you?’

Hannah almost choked on the last chunk of her spicy pizza. ‘What inferiority complex?’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m on about. You always hold back, you’re worse than Daniel. Shit-scared of showing your true feelings. This mad idea that you’re unworthy. It’s why you kept old Ben Kind at bay all those years ago, isn’t it?’

‘What do you mean?’ Hannah demanded.

Terri refilled her glass, and downed most of the wine in a single gulp. ‘He fancied you rotten, but you worshipped him and thought you weren’t old enough or good enough to lick the great detective’s boots. I can’t believe you couldn’t see it, Hannah, you must have been blind. The man would have loved nothing better than a good licking, if it came from you. And now he’s dead, and you’re on the way to making the same stupid mistake with his son.’

‘Quite a speech.’ Hannah tasted her drink. The hand holding the glass was trembling.

‘Is that all you can say?’ Terri threw up her arms in frustration, knocking the wine bottle to the floor in the process. Giovanni scurried over to check everything was all right, and once he’d been despatched for the dessert menu, she said, ‘Sorry to be blunt, but you did ask. And it did need to be said.’

‘I suppose I should say thanks?’

‘Don’t come over all offended. You know I never speak with forked tongue. At least, not to you.’

Terri was actually a seasoned and accomplished fibber when it suited her, and Hannah was sure she was being economical with the facts about Stefan. That was another story. Reluctantly, she recognised enough truth in the caricature of her as a shrinking violet not to start a row. In vino veritas.

With exaggerated patience, she said, ‘I’m a career police officer. Daniel is an academic who travels the world, lecturing and signing books and all that stuff. Even if he was keen, it would never work. Not long term.’

‘Never say never!’

‘Isn’t that the motto that’s messed up your life more times than either of us can count?’

Terri pretended to recoil. ‘Ouch!’

Her fit of pique subsiding, Hannah managed a grin. ‘Don’t dish it out, if you can’t take it.’

Terri roared with laughter. She had an alarmingly high tolerance for alcohol, but the amount she’d put away was having an effect.

‘Okay, I deserve that. But you get the point? We only live once. Gotta make the most of it. A woman like you should aim high. Higher than that detective sergeant of yours, not to put too fine a point on it.’

‘What DS of mine?’

‘Come off it! You’re not the only smart detective sitting at this table, you know. The way you slag him off is such a red herring. Even that gay cop you used to be so pally with, he never made such an impression on you. Those were the days, when you knew better than to mess on your own doorstep.’

‘Quite the amateur psychologist this evening, aren’t you?’ Hannah’s temper was rising again.

Unrepentant, Terri smirked. ‘We’re like two agony aunts, really, forever looking out for each other.’

‘Well, I’m not screwing Greg Wharf, okay? Which means I don’t need to take care over him, thanks all the same.’

The intro to ‘Sweet Caroline’ began to thud out of the overhead speakers and a man in a bomber jacket strode onto the stage. He was wearing a black-and-white striped bob hat and scarf, Newcastle United colours. A couple of middle-aged women at the front of the room whooped with delight as, one by one, he ripped off jacket, scarf and hat to reveal a sparkly shirt and leather trousers at least a size too small. As a stripper, he was no Phyllis Dixey, but his fan club didn’t care.

Terri contemplated the wannabe superstar’s trousers for a couple of minutes before she said, ‘You may not be sleeping with him yet, but it’s on the cards, isn’t it? I took a peek at your star sign today. It said you were on the verge of a momentous event, one which will shake your world to its very foundations. Well, my advice is, make the earth move with Daniel Kind instead.’

By the time they were in the back of the taxi, easing through the lanes that led to Undercrag, Hannah had mellowed, and Terri seemed, through some metabolic miracle, to be sobering up. The crooning of the wannabe Neil had had a strangely tranquilising effect.