‘We’ll book into that big grey one just off the main road. I think it was called “The Beachview”.’
‘It would be in a place like this. Okay, off you go. Be back here for eight sharp.’
75
The Beachview Hotel was a big rambling building, probably Victorian in origin. They entered through a newly built bar, in which three drinkers sat, each alone at his table. McGuire asked for reception and the barman pointed towards a doorway. ‘Through there, sir and round to your left.’
They followed his directions and found the check-in desk in a comfortably furnished hall. Two elderly ladies sat in chairs in the far corner, watching a large television set which needed an adjustment to its colour control, McGuire rang a brass bell, and seconds later a fresh-faced girl appeared.
‘Can we have an en-suite room for the night, please?’
‘Certainly, sir.’ She smiled at him, a shade knowingly. ‘Double or twin?’ He looked at Maggie.
‘Double,’ she said, returning the girl’s secret smile.
McGuire signed the register and the girl handed him a key. ‘Room 211 sir. Up the stairs and to your left. Dinner’s being served now, until ten o’clock. Breakfast starts at seven-fifteen.’
‘Even on Sunday?’ McGuire sounded surprised.
‘It’s for the golfers. We don’t finish until ten, though, so you’ve no need to rush.
‘The dining-room’s back through the bar, then straight on.’
Room 211 was clean and fresh and the fittings in the en-suite bathroom, though old-fashioned, were high quality, with a six-foot bath. Maggie plugged in the stopper and turned on the taps.
‘I was going to ask for a twin, you know,’ McGuire said, plaintively.
‘Sure you were. We’ve got to keep up the act, anyway. I know you’ll have slept on the floor before now, being as cosmopolitan as you are. Or that bath looks big enough for you.’
She flipped open the catches on the suitcase. ‘Let’s see what Brian’s brought us.’
She looked in. ‘Marks and Spencer best. Shirt, Y-s and socks for you, heavy sweater, skirt, underwear and etceteras for me. What else?
Deodorant, make-up, ok, shaving kit, toothbrushes and paste, shampoo, even a hairdryer. Presumably the SB slush fund paid for this lot.
‘I’m going to grab a quick bath.’
She found a newspaper in the bag, passed it across to him and disappeared into the bathroom. Mario glanced at the front page. He stretched out on the bed. Idly he glanced into the small suitcase, looked again. No nightclothes. He laughed, loudly enough for Maggie to hear through the heavy bathroom door.
76
It was just after nine o’clock when they walked downstairs, Maggie clutching Mario’s arm tightly. She had changed into the skirt, and the heavy, but close-fitting sweater. The lipstick was pale for her, but not too bad.
The service was swift, which was as well, since they were both hungry after a hectic day. It had been a long time since those rolls.
As they finished their meal, Maggie took Mario’s left hand in her right. The dining-room was empty save for an elderly couple who were eyeing them surreptitiously. She leaned over, and nibbled his ear. As the couple looked away, Mario smiled.
Maggie spoke softly. ‘You know, it’s a fact: people always forget couples like us. You’d think we’d stand out, but we don’t. Other people find us embarrassing and look away. Just like that pair over there.’
They declined coffee and moved through to the bar, which was much busier than before. ‘What would you like, love?’ Mario said in a voice clear enough to carry, as they took a table facing the door.
‘I would love a Bacardi-and-tonic, please, darling,’ she answered in a throaty voice which, for a moment, she hardly recognised as her own. He went over to the bar, where the efficient barman had already begun to pour Maggie’s drink, and asked for a pint of Belhaven 80 Shilling ale for himself.
Waiting, he glanced around the room. His eyes stopped for a split second at a table near the entrance, then moved on, his expression unchanged. Joy and Andrew Harvey were seated there. She was sipping a lager, he was staring at a large whisky, and at three empty glasses which stood beside it.
He carried the drinks back to Maggie. He slipped into the bench seat beside her, then, without warning, pulled her firmly against him and kissed her. Their heads together, he whispered. ‘You can’t see them from here because of those blokes in the middle of the floor, but our pals are sat right opposite us. we’d better put your invisibility theory to the test.’
‘Mm,’ she replied, and flicked her tongue into his ear. A tremor ran down the length of his body, and he was, very suddenly, very hard. ‘What’s the worst job you’ve ever had?’ she whispered to him, and suddenly he was racked with silent laughter.
Then the men in the middle of the floor moved in towards the bar. Maggie glanced across. Five empty glasses remained on the table. The Harveys had gone.
They finished their drinks, and had two more, before Maggie tugged at Mario’s arm. ‘Come on, big boy,’ she said, loudly enough for the couple at the next table to hear, ‘I don’t want you getting too plastered.’
They left the bar, again arm in arm, and made their way back to room 211. Without a word, Mario disappeared into the bathroom, to return the beer which he had rented for the evening.
When he came out, Maggie was waiting, naked, in the darkened room. ‘Well, which side of the bed do you sleep on?’
He drew her gently to him. ‘Sarge,’ he whispered. ‘You’re out of uniform.’
77
It was still dark when they returned to the beach next morning.
If Mackie sensed a change in their body language, he said nothing. He and Mcllhenney were both tired, irritable, and ready for the road.
‘They went out last night, together, on foot,’ Mackie said. ‘Came back about eleven o’clock, arguing. He was a bit pissed, I’d have said. Apart from that, nothing at all. If this thing lasts for another day, you two can’t pull that hotel cover again. I’ll have the Transit recovered and we’ll bring it up tonight. That way we can split the night duty. Right, we’re off.’
They disappeared into the lessening gloom.
They found that Mackie had left behind a thick travelling rug. They settled into their inconspicuous hide as the sun rose on another fine, warm day. The Harvey cottage stood curtained against the light.
They sat in silence for a while. Then Mario drew her down on the rug beside him. They kissed again with the ease and comfort of lovers.
‘Once this job’s over,’ said Maggie, ‘I’ll make sure we’re never assigned together again. If I was caught with my hand in your pants, it would set the advance of women in the force back twenty years!’
‘That’s fine, but watch who you do work with. Us Italians are notorious for our jealousy, and us Irish are even worse.’
She ruffled his black hair. ‘Just as long as I don’t find out you’ve got a wife and three kids!’ They were still laughing when they heard the sudden roar of the Toyota.
They spun round on the rug, and saw the sleek black car reverse fast out of the driveway and power up the lane. At the top, it turned right. They heard tyres squeal as it raced off, heading in the wrong direction down the one-way street.
Mario started to jump up, but Maggie held him back. ‘Wait. The job is surveillance of the Harveys. We couldn’t even see who was driving. t could be back in a minute, for all we know.’
‘Sure. Maggie, in a place like this you don’t go for the Sunday papers at seventy miles an hour, the wrong way up a one-way street. That car isn’t coming back, and we’ve lost it. I think we should call Andy Martin for instructions.’