Minette Walters - The Ice House

"Wouldn't it be better to leave well alone?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because, Cattrell, if Phoebe isn't freed of him, you and Diana will be tied to this house for ever."

She looked into a private darkness beyond him. How little he understood. They would always be tied now. It had been too long. They had lost the confidence to start again.

He gave her fingers a last squeeze and stood up. "I'd better make tracks for bed then."

She nodded, her eyes over-bright. "Goodbye, McLoughlin. I wish you luck, I really do."

He scratched the side of his face. "I suppose you couldn't lend me a pillow? And maybe a toothbrush from the bathroom?"

"What for?"

"I've got nowhere to sleep, woman. I told you, my wife came back. I'm damned if I'm spending another seven years with someone whose favourite colour is beige. I walked out." He watched her smile. "I thought I'd shack up with a friend this time."

"What sort of friend?"

"Oh, I don't know. How about a cynical, selfish intellectual snob, who can't sustain relationships, doesn't conform and embarrasses people?"

She laughed quietly. "It's all true."

"Of course it is. We've a lot in common. It's not a bad description of me either."

"You'd hate living here."

"About as much as you do, probably. How does Glasgow sound?"

"What would we do there?"

"Explore, Cattrell, explore."

Her eyes danced. "Are you going to take no for an answer, McLoughlin?"

"No."

"Well, what the hell are you waiting for then?"