"Robbie, I'm back. Robbie?" She'd been gone a lot longer than she'd planned and it was now past lunchtime. She was hoping he wasn't going to be too cross with her.
"Up here, love?" came his voice from the bedroom above. Dumping her shopping bags in the hall, she made her way up and was slightly surprised not to find him sprawled on the bed napping, but using the small desk under the window instead, her iPad propped up in front of him. "Successful morning? he asked, as she sat on the bed, taking off her shoes and lying back, her head sinking into the thick, soft duvet.
"Very," she replied sleepily. Maybe it was her who needed the nap, she reflected. "I bumped into Rosie, you know, wife of the man who brought us back yesterday. We went for coffee and ended up chatting for ages. She's really sweet. Lonely, I think, but full of stories of farm life. How about you? Knee hold out?" she asked, with a hint of concern in her voice.
"Oh yes, plenty of life left in the old dog yet," he winked.
"Pleased to hear it," she replied. She turned onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him. "What are you doing? Not work, I hope!" eyes narrowing slightly and her tone all ready to give him a telling off.
"No, not work. I was just looking something up," putting the iPad back into its sleeve. "You eaten? Shall I make you something? I only had cheese on toast, not that exciting."
She shook her head. "I'm fine. I'd take a cuddle though, if there's one going."
"Think I can stretch to that," he replied, moving over to the bed and wrapping his arms around her. "What do we fancy for this afternoon? Could drive up to that teashop we past yesterday, slice of carrot cake and a pot of tea?"
"Maybe save that for tomorrow. I quite fancy an afternoon on the sofa with a book, and don't pretend you've forgotten that the cricket's on."
"Perfect," his only reply.
Arthur was frowning at the letter in his hand, deciding whether he felt more livid with its contents or just tired of the whole situation. No, he was livid, he decided. It was maddening to know that something was yours but you couldn't touch it. "Right, that's it, he's done it this time" he muttered under his breath. "He wants to play games then games he's going to get." Grabbing his keys he headed out, slamming the door behind him.
Their afternoon drifted by quietly, punctuated only by sudden outbursts from Robbie when the ball was hit for six or someone was caught out. She'd had high hopes of a foot rub but with the cricket apparently this exciting she'd given up, moving to the large armchair by the fireplace which afforded a pleasant view over the small garden and to the lake beyond. From there she could see the odd boat go past, mostly motored but the very occasional sail. The winds were comparatively light compared to what she imagined they would be in the winter months, but even now she could see they were picking up, the breeze silently rustling the leaves in the trees on the bank. "Honestly, you're like a jack in the box, can't you keep still?" she tutted as he jumped up for the upteeneth time.
"Sorry love, but honestly how can you be so calm? We might just win, you know. If those storm clouds keep away, that is, only two wickets left."
She rolled her eyes. She quite liked cricket but she preferred the 'picnic by the boundary with a glass of Pimm's' sort of match. Any game where you could play for five days and still draw because it rained was bemusing to her. However she was beginning to realise that Robbie's casual mentions of sport over the years, whether over a quiet drink after work or when they had cropped up in a case, were merely the tip of the iceberg. Not that she minded, it just showed how much getting to know each other they still had in front of them. And really, she mused, wasn't that the nice part of a new relationship? She'd been lying if she hadn't been concerned that after so long they'd have nothing to discover about one another but that was definitely proving not to be the case.
"Oh, come on, man. Bowl!" he shouted, bringing her back into the room. Resigned that she was never going to be able to concentrate on her book she went to put the kettle on. As she waited for it to boil she looked out of the window. There was good view across the lake from here as well, and sighed, the cottage really was perfectly located. The clouds that had been gathering all day were now making the hills look almost purple. She could see cows sheltering under the trees in a field not too far away. Very wise, she thought, as suddenly big fat raindrops started hammering down.
She reached for a mug and popped a teabag in. She could hear Robbie shouting at the TV again, before he appeared glumly around the corner. "We lost. By ten runs. Ten! Don't know why I bother watching, I really don't."
"Cuppa?" she asked sympathetically. He shook his head and stalked over to the fridge and pulled out a beer. "Better I drown me sorrows instead."
She laughed, "Oh, come on. It's not that bad." She moved to put her arms around his waist in an attempt to cheer him up. "Looks like a storm might be settling in for the night so if you're very lucky I might just let you play me at Scrabble again," she teased. He groaned at the prospect and took another swig of his beer.
"Bellows! I know you're in there. Bellows!" Arthur hammered on the door. "Come out and face me, you coward!" He stepped back as the door opened, only to be greeted by Mrs Bellows, and not her husband as he'd hoped.
"He's not here, Arthur," she informed him, her tiredness at the whole saga evident in her voice. "And even if he was, what is banging the door down going to achieve, eh?" Despite her weariness, she had a lot of time for Arthur, always had. They'd been close as children, playing together at school until being friendly with a member of the opposite sex meant being teased by their fellow pupils.
"Where is he, Martha? I need to see him. Or he is going to cower behind lawyers forever?" He could feel the anger leaving him as she tilted her head at him. After all, it wasn't her fault her husband was a thief and a liar.
She sighed. "I'm not going to tell you where he is. You're playing the tough guy now but we know Samuel scares you. What will facing up to him do, eh? Land you in A&E, that's what. Go home." His shoulders dropped, conceding her point. He turned and headed back to his car. He climbed in and rested his head on the steering wheel. He knew she was right, he couldn't stand up to a man like Bellows. The only person Bellows was scared of was Martha and what power that sweet lady held over him he could only imagine. He switched on the engine and drove away as heavy rain began to fall.
Back in the house, Martha hesitated, phone in hand. And then making a decision, pressed the call button. "Rosie?...Yes, he was here. I've sent him away...I know, me too love, but what can we do?...Yeah, you're probably right. Call me if you need to...You too. Bye."
The storm lasted well into the night. The noise of the heavy rain and wind against the slate roof had woken Robbie up in the early hours, and if initially the sound was comforting it soon became the reason he couldn't get back to sleep. He smiled at the sound of Laura quietly snoring next to him, just audible above the rain. She always seemed to sleep so soundly. Gently untangling himself from her arms he got up, searched for his slippers in the dark, and headed downstairs.
Fetching a glass of water, he sat down at the table, making space alongside the Scrabble game they'd started but not yet finished. He looked at the letters he was stuck with... F, J, K, O, M, E, P...what on earth could you make with that lot, he wondered. He played around with them for a while...joke, poke, poem...that was hardly going to win him the game now, was it? Not up against the likes of Dr Hobson, he thought. Why was he always surrounded by these big brains? Morse got a kick out of lording his knowledge over him. Hathaway was a little most discreet about it, only speaking in Latin once a day. And Laura, well actually she was different. She was clearly intelligent, you don't become a leading pathologist by accident, he realised that, but she'd never made him feel any less because of it. She had a knack of finding the words to explain the most complicated of medical explanations without being patronising. She never lorded her education over him except, he realised, when it came to beating him at this infuriating game.
The rain was still pounding down. He could hear old beams creaking above his head. He knew the oldest part of the house was Victorian, discovering as much when he'd looked it up earlier. The curious question of why everyone seemed so obsessed with this cottage was still bothering him, and he'd been trying to find out more when Laura had come home. He wished he was better at using the internet, it took him forever to find anything out. What he had discovered so far told him something but not everything. He wondered if the library might fill in the gaps. He was contemplating that idea when he heard light footsteps on the stairs.
"Robbie, you ok?" she asked, her voice soft and drowsy. He nodded, "Rain woke me up, thought I'd get a drink." His felt a little jolt of pleasure run through him as he looked at her, hair tousled from sleep, pyjama bottoms far too long for her petite frame as usual.
"I hope you're not cheating, Inspector," nodding at his now rearranged Scrabble tiles.
"I wouldn't dare. Come here." He took her hand and pulled her onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and feeling how warm she was a small sound of contentment escaped from his lips. "You know, I'm the luckiest man alive to have you."
She leant back so she could see his face, surprised at this unexpected declaration of feeling. She stroked his cheek softly, thinking how he was getting much better at saying how he felt, or maybe he was finally feeling more confident about them. Whatever it was, she was enjoying it. She smiled, a mischievous thought crossing her mind. Flashing her blue eyes at him she lowered her voice, "Come on, let's go back to bed," her intent all to clear.
