Chapter Five
Jamie was practically bouncing when he entered the office on Monday morning, carrying two coffees and the newspaper under his arm.
"Good morning, sir." He chirped at DCI Barnaby, placing the newspaper and one of the coffees in front of him with a flourish.
"Is it?" Barnaby asked, before eyeing up the drink with suspicion. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Oh, just thought I'd treat us this morning – the coffee here isn't something I'd wish on my worst enemy." Jamie slipped into his desk chair and switched on the laptop.
"Mmhmm…" John sniffed the coffee before taking a sip and relaxing back with a sigh. "This good mood of yours doesn't happen to be related to a brunette named Clara by any chance, does it?"
"No!" Jamie exclaimed. "Can't I just be in a good mood today?"
John continued to eye him suspiciously but settled down to drink his coffee and catch up on some paperwork. Jamie leaned back in his chair whilst scanning emails. They spent a few minutes just catching up after the weekend in silence, before Fleur breezed in holding a sheaf of paper.
"Hi Fleur!" Jamie greeted her cheerily. "You look well today."
Fleur stopped halfway over to the desks and stared at the Detective Sergeant. "Your date went well, I take it."
"He's been insufferable." Barnaby grumbled, giving Jamie an innocent look when Jamie pulled an affronted expression.
"Why can't you just believe I'm in a good mood, and it has nothing to do with Clara?"
"If you say so." Fleur rolled her eyes. "I have the full pathology report for the case that is heading to the courts next week, all signed off and official." She dropped it on the edge of Barnaby's desk.
"Thanks Fleur," Barnaby eyed up the folder, judging whether he could reach it without moving. "Can you put it on top of that filing cabinet? It contained the rest of the documentation we need."
Fleur looked at him derisively. "No! What did your last slave die of? It's right there."
Barnaby groaned, heaving himself out of his chair and walking over stiffly to the folder.
"What happened to you?" Fleur asked him, looking him up and down.
"Oh, it's nothing." Barnaby replied, placing the file on the cabinet and holding onto it to steady himself.
"Right…" Jamie said sceptically, one eyebrow raised. "You can't walk because of nothing."
Barnaby huffed. "I went for a run this morning, ok? Thought I'd better get some training in before the Fun Run, but now I can barely move."
"This is how it starts." Fleur nodded sagely. "First they sign you up for a Fun Run, then they tell you about how the right shoes help your running, the right kit to use, then they try to persuade you that joining their club is fun. The next thing you know, you are following each other around like a mobile neon rainbow. I tell you, it's a cult."
"I'm not sure I'm going to be moving at all for the foreseeable future." Barnaby complained.
"Clara says you have to go again, but more slowly and for a shorter duration, to loosen off the tight muscles and get them used to the exercise." Jamie said, his head down as he scanned a document on his desk. Barnaby exchanged a look with Fleur.
"Does she now? And what else does Clara say about it?"
Jamie looked up at his boss. "Only that you should see a sports physio to do a posture assessment if you keep picking up the same niggles."
"I see."
"She's a part time personal trainer and fitness coach," Jamie explained. "So she knows what she's talking about. She said she's going to help me get ready for the Fun Run over the next three weeks or so."
They had discussed the run over some truly delicious pasta. Jamie had told Clara the route he'd taken on Friday, convinced that it must be near the ten kilometre race distance, only for Clara to wince and inform him it would have been no more than four. To make up for it, she'd promised to pick him up for a run at the weekend where she would pace him around a slightly longer distance than he'd managed so far, stretching it out incrementally until he was able to do the race. In return, he'd arranged to cook her dinner on Saturday night. In Jamie's mind, this was a win-win situation. Well, except for the minor inconvenience that he wasn't really much of a chef.
"A personal trainer, hm?" Barnaby had a contemplative expression on, one which worried Jamie. "I wonder if she could use any new clients. Maybe I'll get a bit better at this exercise lark if I work with someone."
"I can ask," Jamie offered, but Fleur was shaking her head.
"You don't need a personal trainer, you need a therapist. Still, I do know a very good sports masseur – works wonders on my tennis elbow. I'll find you're their contact details. Anyway, must dash, I'll see you later. Or not – depends on how many of the local inhabitants decide to end up dead this week."
"Bye!" Barnaby called after her, Jamie raising a hand as well, mouthing 'tennis elbow' to his boss. Barnaby just shook his head in a warning that it was best not to ask.
As it turned out, they didn't see Fleur all week. As weeks in Midsomer went, it was fairly quiet. A spate of low key burglaries, usually targeting small stores but not taking much of value, and a potential kidnapping that turned out to be over-protective parents worrying about a son that was old enough to look after himself. Especially when he'd only driven over to the next village to meet some friends for a night out.
The occasional messages from Clara were the high points of the week for Jamie. With her encouragement he stumbled out on tired legs to repeat his previous run again, feeling very smug afterwards as he sat with a beer and pizza.
That smugness lasted until about eight in the morning on Saturday, when he opened his door to find Clara waiting in running gear having evidently run to his house. She looked him up and down, then shook her head at him.
"No, you can't wear that."
Jamie looked down at his running shorts on top of tights, thermal base layer covered in a bright top and gloves. After all, it was a bit chilly this morning. "What's wrong with this?"
She looked at him incredulously. "It's not the Arctic! You'll bake before we've made a mile. If you feel the cold leave the tights on, but take off the base layer and ditch the gloves. It's nearly April and a nice morning!"
It was the first piece of running advice she gave him that day, but not the last. Annoyingly, she was right about nearly all of it. He was warm, even after stripping off the layers Clara suggested. He did move faster and more effortlessly when she helped him to channel his movement forwards instead of bouncing up and down, and he did find it easier to breathe when he kept his arms away from the front of his chest.
After they made it back to his place, with Jamie feeling very self-satisfied with managing to go out at all let alone for further than he'd managed all week, he tentatively suggested that she come over early for dinner just to catch up. Clara agreed, leading to a very enjoyable afternoon and evening spent in each other's company while Jamie showed off his dubious prowess in the kitchen.
The next couple of weeks followed in a similar vein. Work was quiet, Jamie caught up on all his paperwork while the boss grumbled about the training he was doing for the run – apparently Sarah had enthusiastically started championing the fitness benefits of running and switched the whole family onto a healthy eating diet while sending John out most days to practice.
Jamie spent his evenings messaging Clara and his weekends spending time with her. It was a situation he had absolutely no complaints about – she was witty, intelligent and driven. He enjoyed sharing some of his interests with her, finding out what their similarities and differences were. Fleur teased him rotten about it when they went out for a colleague's leaving do and he spent half of it on the phone to Clara, but he didn't care. Jamie still couldn't believe his luck in finding a girl like her and he wasn't about to let anyone ruin it.
The Saturday before the Fun Run, Clara suggested they head into Causton after they finished their run.
"What, now?" Jamie asked, looking down as his running kit.
"No! How about we meet for lunch, then do some shopping?"
"Shopping?" He gave her a calculating look. "What do you need me to help you buy?"
"Oh, not for me!" Clara shook her head and laughed. "We need to get you some proper running shoes, those will damage your feet if you keep running in them."
Jamie smiled to himself, remembering Fleur's earlier comments. "Then you'll make me buy lots of clothes, then join the club… it is a cult, after all!"
She rolled her eyes at him. "What can I say, us runners are sneaky! You coming?"
"Sure, how about we try out the café by the river? At noon?"
"I look forward to it." Clara smiled shyly at him, before darting forwards and kissing him on the lips. "You stink." She murmured, still pressing against him.
Jamie grinned back at her, relishing the feel of her lips underneath his. "So do you."
She broke away, stepping backwards and waving. "See you in a couple of hours!" With that, she turned and jogged down the street. Jamie watched her go, the goofy smile that he'd been sporting for the last few weeks firmly in place. Eventually she was out of sight and he reluctantly closed his door before heading for the shower.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Jamie loved the feeling of her hand in his as they strolled down Causton high street. He hadn't been in a long term relationship for a very long time – in fact, since his university days. But even then he couldn't remember ever being in one which felt so right, on every level. Clara was pointing things out in the windows of shops, all dressed prettily for the spring season, while Jamie was making her laugh by predicting the likely cost. The artisan shops on Causton high street were not cheap. They were so wrapped up in each other that they almost walked straight past the running shop before Clara remembered why they had actually come to Causton in the first place. With a laugh Jamie followed as she dragged him into the small store.
Half an hour and a decent amount of money later, Jamie emerged clutching his very own shoe box containing a shiny pair of running shoes. He had to admit, the difference from running in these compared to his old trainers was incredible and he was looking forward to trying them out.
"Wait… does that mean you've brainwashed me too?" He mused, laughing when Clara knocked her shoulder into his.
"It didn't take much corrupting!" She replied tartly. "Methinks you have too much disposable income and not enough to spend it on."
"Not true! I have… things."
"Mmmhmm, that's why you have a flashy new car and smart suits."
Jamie was thinking up some clever comeback when a voice calling disturbed him from his retort. "Callista!"
Clara's hand tensed in his, causing Jamie to frown in concern at her. But she huffed out a breath and plastered a smile on her face as she turned to greet the older lady who was hurrying towards them. "Mrs Beaumont! How lovely to see you."
"Callista my dear, what are you doing here?" The lady asked, her eyes darting short-sightedly around the street. Her grey hair was pulled into a messy bun, wisps breaking free that stood out from her face, giving her the appearance of someone who had been hit by a jolt of electricity.
"It's Clara, Mrs Beaumont, and we're just doing some shopping. Are you ok?"
"Oh…" the lady looked lost for a second. "It's rather open on the streets, isn't it?" She looked around before leaning in conspiratorially. "You never know who is watching." She turned her gaze to Jamie who was startled by the intensity in them. "You don't know who to trust, these days."
"Can I call someone for you, Mrs Beaumont? Amy, perhaps?"
"Oh no dear, that's ok. I wouldn't want to worry her. I'll let the others know I've seen you though." The lady tottered off, leaving Jamie staring after her in shock.
"What was that?"
"That," Clara gestured at her retreating back. "That was Alice Beaumont, lovely old dear who always calls me Callista and who I'm fairly sure doesn't know where she is half the time."
"Is she going to be ok?" Jamie asked in concern.
Clara sighed. "I'll let Amy know where she is," she said, pulling out her phone. "Amy is her granddaughter." She rattled off a quick text on her phone while explaining to Jamie. "It's how I met Amy actually – Mrs Beaumont comes into the library a lot to use the computers. Or try to, anyway, she often just sits and stares into space. Amy comes with her sometimes and we got to talking. She persuaded me to join the running club and that's how I met the others."
Jamie watched the lady disappear into a shop before he turned back to Clara. "She doesn't bother you?"
"No," Clara shrugged. "She's harmless. Just unable to remember things. It could be a lot worse."
"Who are the others she is talking about?"
Clara frowned. "I guess Amy and Dan… though she'll probably have forgotten she saw me by the time they get here. Anyway – on to more important things. How are you feeling about the race next weekend now?"
"Much better now I have these." Jamie held up the box in his arms and grinned down at her. "And the knowledge you'll be cheering me on."
"Oh I don't know…" Clara looked up at him from lowered eyelashes. "I haven't met the other team yet – I might decide I like them more." She then squealed and leapt sideways as Jamie's free hand found her side, mercilessly tickling her. "Ok, ok, I'll cheer for you. Happy?"
"Better." Jamie replied, pulling her close to kiss her again. "Much better."
