Chapter 60
Chapter Sixty
Freya and Chris were sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a takeaway curry when there was a knock on the front door. Chris got up and opened the door to Jennifer Ripley. He showed her through to the kitchen.
‘Sorry, am I interrupting?’ she asked upon seeing the meal all laid out.
‘No. In fact there’s plenty. You can join us, if you want,’ Freya said, standing up and shuffling things around on the table.
‘You know, I can’t actually remember when I last ate anything.’
‘Chris, get a plate and cutlery for Jen. And open another bottle of wine.’
‘I don’t want to intrude.’
‘You’re not intruding. How are things going with Anthony?’ Freya asked.
Jennifer shook herself out of her coat and draped it on the back of the chair. She sat down, took the plate from Chris and, as instructed, began helping herself to rice and chicken korma.
‘I left them all to it. We needed to do a press conference, but Anthony just wants to hide away from everything.’
‘That’s understandable,’ Chris said.
‘They’re going home tomorrow to Withernsea. I’ve said I’ll pop along in a few days.’
Freya looked to Chris, then to Jennifer. ‘How are things with you and Malcolm?’
‘Well, we’re talking,’ she said with a smile. ‘He’s accepted the fact I don’t want to start a family yet, so we’re slowly getting to be on the same page.’
‘Is he all right with that?’ Freya asked.
‘Personally, possibly not. Professionally, he’s fine with it.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘If he wasn’t the Home Secretary, he’d probably look for a younger woman, someone who’d be happy to sit at home and give birth to a whole litter for him.
But that’s not the image he wants to project.
He wants to be seen to be supporting his successful wife and showing we can juggle a busy workload and family life at a time to suit us. ’
‘Are you happy with that?’
‘I think so. I suppose there’s never a good time to have a child, is there?’ She ate a forkful of korma. ‘I bet you two don’t shy away from the big conversations.’
Chris looked away.
‘I can’t actually have children,’ Freya said.
‘Oh, Freya, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise. Shit, I’m so sorry,’ Jennifer said.
‘No. It’s fine. I’ve known for years. We’ve talked about it and we’re thinking of being a yuppy couple, aren’t we?’ she smiled.
‘Absolutely,’ Chris agreed. ‘A city penthouse apartment somewhere, dinner parties twice a week, skiing holidays in winter, car boot sales in summer. I’m looking forward to getting gout,’ he laughed.
Freya laughed with him, and it seemed genuine to Jennifer.
‘You never realise how complicated life is being an adult, do you?’ Jennifer asked. ‘They should teach all this at school. I’ve never used algebra or Latin. They could take that off the curriculum and teach kids all about the problems of relationships.’
‘Latin? Someone went to a posh school,’ Freya said.
‘We had a very, very old and traditional headmaster.’
They finished their meal and went into the living room with a mug of tea each and Freya got out the box of good biscuits. When she offered Jennifer the spare bed for the night, she jumped at the chance. She was so comfortable with them.
‘I was thinking on the way over here,’ Jennifer began as she nibbled on a hazelnut cookie. ‘You don’t realise when you’re going to need an alibi, do you?’
‘What do you mean?’ Freya asked.
‘Well, the fact that Anthony couldn’t actually say where he was on the night of the murder went against him.
I mean, how many times do we go out on our own?
What if … I don’t know … what if I’m out for a walk in the park after a hard day, clearing my head, and something happens at home to Malcolm? I could be accused of anything.’
‘I’m not sure what to say to that. My job sort of relies on witnesses and alibis,’ Freya said.
‘That’s what I mean. Without witnesses and alibis, we could all be guilty of anything.’
‘This is a fun conversation,’ Chris said, reaching over for a cookie.
‘I mean, where were you, Chris, on the night Alice was killed?’ Jennifer asked.
‘Me?’ He looked at her, wide-eyed.
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve no idea. It was more than ten years ago.’
‘It was the night of the big storm, though. You should remember. I do.’
‘Me too,’ Freya said. ‘I was on the night shift, and me and a few of the other WPCs, as we were called then, were watching the weather through the window. It looked like the end of the world.’
‘I’d been at my mum’s for a few days and was driving home,’ Jennifer said. ‘Scariest journey of my life. I couldn’t wait to get in. Just getting from the car to the front door was a performance in itself.’
‘I was at home. On my own,’ Chris said. ‘I wasn’t working. I lived in a flat above a laundrette at the time. Just me and the telly. Until the power went out. Then I went to bed.’
‘See, there’s only you among us, Freya, who has an alibi. We don’t realise how vulnerable we are as people until our actions are questioned.’
‘Excuse me,’ Chris said. He put his mug down on the coffee table and left the room.
‘Is he all right?’ Jennifer asked.
‘Despite what he says, he really does miss being a detective.’
‘Ah. Sorry. I’ve put my foot in my mouth a couple of times this evening, haven’t I?’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Is there no chance of him being allowed back in now that everything with Bishop is out in the open?’
‘I suppose he could try, but he’s drawn a line under that part of his life. He loves his business, but his first love was always being a detective.’
‘Bastard Bishop. It makes you wonder how many other lives he ruined.’