'Forswearing all others, I wanted, want, to ask you to marry me. You saved my life, now I'd like you to live the rest of it with me. What d' you say?'
She frowned at him and his heart sank. 'I have to choose my words carefully here,' she began. 'I love you too. Yes.'
They gave simultaneous gasps of exultation and relief. The space between them closed in a second as they locked in an embrace.
'When?' she murmured.
'Soon as we can.'
'Can I stay here from now on?'
'Too right. We'll find a new place though; one that's ours together. This place has picked up some bad memories already, just like the last one.'
'That's all they are, though, memories. I've got my own, remember. We can live with them, no problem.' She reached for the top button of his shirt once again; this time he made no move to stop her.
'What about the job?' she asked. '… Sir.'
'You're not going back to my office, that's for sure. Do you want to chuck it?'
She nodded. 'Yes. It might suit the McGuires — they're zealots — but one copper in the house will be enough for us. I trained as a teacher before I joined up. I'll do some supply work, maybe… until I get pregnant, that is.'
He put his forehead against hers as she pulled his shirt free. 'Let's attend to that right now, shall we?'
52
That was a bombshell, was it not?' Bob Skinner gazed after the little red car as it turned out of the driveway, half an hour after noon on Sunday. 'When he phoned I thought he was just coming to return the clothes I lent him.'
Sarah smiled. 'A bombshell maybe; but think of the man who left here yesterday, then look at the Andy who's just left now. When did you last see him as happy as that?'
'Maybe never,' Bob conceded. 'Maybe not even when he was engaged to our Alex. But still… don't you think that this could all be a hysterical reaction to what happened to him on Friday?'
'He didn't seem hysterical to me. Nor did she. No, I'm going to take it at face value; I'm going to be pleased for them both. I don't know Karen very well, but I've heard a few stories about her from you and others. Nobody has ever failed to make the point that she is a thoroughly nice woman. She will add a stability to his personal life that's never really been there before. You just watch him go from now on.'
He looked at her, a little doubtfully. 'Okay, Sarah. But he must have some recovery to get through still.'
'With which she can only help him,' she replied. 'Andy is a very strong man, both mentally and physically. The only worthwhile things you can do for him are to fix him up with some private counselling with Kevin O'Malley, to head off any possibility of post traumatic stress, and to wish him and Karen the best of luck.'
'He's got both of those. Christ, after seeing it, I think McGuire and I should have counselling too.'
'Hah! This from the man who swore he'd never again let O'Malley or anyone else inside his head. No, you take those two boys for a walk, as you said you would; that's the best form of counselling. While you're doing that, I will phone Alex, as Andy asked me to.'
Bob nodded. 'You're right.' He called back into the house. 'Mark, Jazz, come on.' He picked up his younger son's carry-frame, slipped his arms through the straps and fastened it across his chest.
The two boys came rushing through the halclass="underline" Mark, incredibly bright for a boy just verging on eight, cut out already for academia rather than athletics; James Andrew, still short of three but a toddler no more, a sturdy child with his mother's eyes and the promise of developing his father's physique.
'Where are we going, Uncle Bob?' asked Mark, the adopted son. 'The beach?'
'The beach will be mobbed today; no, we'll go for a long walk round by Luffness to West Fenton, then back up to the village. You can see the horses and the cattle, and look out for the different sorts of birds, then look them up in your book when we get home.'
He loaded Jazz into the carrier, up and over his head, then set off down the drive on the forced march. Beyond the gate, Hill Road was lined with parked cars; he saw a red Ford, a silver Toyota, a big black off-roader of some sort with impenetrable smoked glass windows, a Mercedes, and more lined all the way up the slope past the Diddler's house. It had been abandoned finally by the journalists who had kept vigil there the night before, hoping for a glimpse of the grieving Edith. The vehicles were parked all the way up to the golf course gate. Either the Bents car park was full, or drivers were avoiding the small charge. Whatever, Skinner noted mentally, there was trouble heading the way of the local traffic warden.
He forgot the nuisance almost at once as he walked the boys out, down Sandy Loan, right and across the main street then westward, out of the village. Mark chatted incessantly as they headed down and round the bend in the road, Jazz joining in as they reached the part where the walkway was wider and he could be lifted safely out of his carrier. Eventually, they passed Luffness New Golf Club with its commemorative cairn outside, passed the sweeping Luffness corner itself, and turned into the rarely used road which twisted through the farmland and up to West Fenton.
'This is where we saw the albino squirrel, Uncle Bob, remember?' Mark called out, walking with Jazz a few paces in front. Bob smiled as he remembered the odd little animal, with its pink eyes.
'Want to see it, Dad,' James Andrew shouted. 'Want to see it.'
'I doubt if it will still be here, son,' he answered. 'It was so white that it might as well have been wearing a sign saying "Eat me" on its back. There are hawks and owls around here, looking for small game like that.' Never in his life, had Bob Skinner told a 'cute furry animal' story to any of his children; he believed in teaching them about nature rather than cartoon characters.
They walked on, past the stream which ran on their left through a narrow stretch of woods, round a curve, past an isolated, white, art deco house, planted bizarrely on the edge of the fertile farmland like a great iced cake, then out into a straight stretch of road, between two flat fields, one ploughed, the other sowed.
'What's that, Uncle Bob?' There was something subdued about the boy's tone.
'Barley. It'll be harvested in August then sold to a brewer.'
They walked on until they reached the old railway bridge; the railway itself had been gone for sixty years, but the bridge over the ghost line still stood, fulfilling no function other than to offer a better view of Gullane from its crest. Bob picked up Jazz and reinstalled him in his carrier, for the climb at least.
They stopped at the top, and looked back up towards the village, even though Mark could barely see over the iron parapet. 'Uncle Bob,' he asked as they walked on. Jazz was still in his carrier, his brother a few yards in front, so Skinner strained to hear. 'Will that albino squirrel really be dead?'
He cursed himself for a fool at his abruptness. The child's parents had met violent ends; death was still a dangerous topic with him.
'Maybe yes, maybe no,' he replied as they descended the far slope of the bridge.
Change the subject. What? Anything. 'What do you want to be when you grow up, Mark?'
'Alive.'
The maturity, the perception, the sadness of the boy's response; all of them stunned him, left him staring speechless at the back of his little bowed head.
'You will be, son, you will be,' he promised.
And then a sound broke in, the sudden revving of an engine, a big powerful engine. Tyres screamed as they took a grip of the rough, tarmac road, gathering pace. He swung round, looking back over his shoulder, seeing nothing but the big, black vehicle and the sun reflecting off its dark, smoked windscreen, a quick blinding flash as it roared over the hump of the railway bridge and hurtled downwards, racing straight and unmistakably for him.