CHAPTER 24
At least one way of getting Josh out of a mood is being almost killed.
The motorbike had mounted the pavement so that I had to slam myself against the wall, letting go of the leads so that Cady and Solly could get away unhurt.
The biker’s foot grazed my hip as he weaved around me and sped off, and I had sunk to the pavement in a trembling heap.
The dogs, thankfully, came running back to me and I hurried them into the house, calling for Josh.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked as soon as he saw the state of me, his anger forgotten.
Josh has gone into full-on alpha mode, trying to comfort and protect me.
He seems to like me best when I’m vulnerable: it’s an unpleasant thought and I’m determined not to pick over it now.
He’s already made me report what happened to DI Shirley, who must be getting bored of me.
My mind went blank, predictably, when she asked for details like reg plate or any distinguishing features.
Hard to notice such things when a motorbike is charging full speed towards you.
Josh looked through the new security camera footage, but it’s set to only trigger if someone tries to get in through either of our gates.
Now we’ve ordered a Chinese takeaway and I’m trying to eat it despite my queasiness.
Cartons of noodles, egg-fried rice, pork balls and prawn crackers are spread out over the table and Josh has lit two of Dorothea’s candles which cast flickering shadows on the walls.
It’s not quite dark outside, the sky a watercolour mauve.
‘Does the detective think it could be the same person who attacked Dennis?’ Josh asks through a mouthful of rice.
‘She’s so non-committal. But it has to be, doesn’t it? How many visor-wearing bikers are out there battering old men and trying to mow down women?’
‘Do you think it’s the same person who broke in here that day too?’
A noodle slides down my throat and I want to gag. I wish he’d change the subject. It’s making my brain hurt. I just want to sit and watch something comforting on his huge TV and not think about murder and attackers on motorbikes. ‘Maybe. I only saw his face briefly.’
After we’ve eaten I go with Josh into the big living room and snuggle up to him as we watch one of the Mission Impossibles, the dogs lying on the rug next to us.
Josh is riveted, his arm draped over my shoulder, but I can’t concentrate.
My mind is racing with thoughts of Dorothea, the sculpture, the bunker, Dennis and the biker.
I need to work out what to do next. Rosemary is apparently away for a few days, so I need to try Annette again, and Maisie too.
They are the people who knew Dorothea the best. I have a vague memory of Annette coming here when my mum and I were living with Dorothea that summer, but I’m sure none of them came to Mum’s funeral, unless they did but I’ve forgotten. I only remember seeing Dorothea there.
I’m itching to look again at the photographs of the sculpture that I have on my phone, but I don’t want Josh to see. He still knows nothing about Dorothea’s hidden piece of art and I want to keep it that way.
When the film is over, Josh stays up glued to some football thing while I retreat to bed.
I scroll through the photographs of the sculpture, taking in the magpies and the little trinkets attached to each one: there’s the lighter which must be significant, but what do the other things mean?
The cat brooch and the miniature Christmas card.
The pearls, spade and the crochet butterfly.
‘Dorothea!’ I whisper into the dimly lit room. ‘Why were you so bloody cryptic?’
‘What are you doing?’
I jump and hurriedly lock my phone. Josh is standing in the doorway.
‘Oh, nothing. Just reading.’
‘You really should get a Kindle instead of using your phone. Blue light isn’t good for you before bed.
’ He steps out of his trousers and peels off his shirt so that he’s just in his boxers.
Then he climbs onto the bed and his eyes twinkle at me, an eyebrow raised suggestively.
I know that look. I’ve obviously been forgiven. For now.
I turn my back to him and pull the duvet further over my shoulder. ‘Good night,’ I say pointedly as I reach over and turn off the lamp.