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Becca laughed. It was the sort of laugh the word ‘fruity’ was designed for. Mullen shivered with lust. It was no wonder that men like Paul — and he — were drawn to her. “Two women on his doorstep!” Becca was squealing now. “He probably reckons he’s died and gone to heaven.”
Mullen tossed his house keys to her. “Let yourselves in. I just need to water the tomatoes. I could do with a cup of tea,” he added. “But there’s some white wine in the fridge if you want it." And he headed round the back of the house in search of a few moments of peace.
As he began to fill the watering can from the rain butt by the greenhouse, he became aware that Rose Wilby had followed him. She stood silently a couple of metres away, watching. Only when the can was full and he was turning the tap off did she speak.
“Are you and Becca an item?”
“No.” He tried to sound very firm.
“I got the impression from her that you were.”
“Well we definitely are not. I barely know her. And I’ve certainly not slept with her.”
“Would you like to?”
“Jesus!” The watering can was overflowing. He turned the tap off. “Sorry! That probably offends you.”
“Don’t worry. It’s none of my business anyway.”
Mullen didn’t reply. Instead he went inside the greenhouse and watered round the grow bags. His headache had abated a bit, but that was all. He really did just want some peace and quiet on his own. Apart from anything else, he needed to think.
“Actually,” she said as he left the protection of the greenhouse, “I’ve no intention of spoiling your evening with Becca. I just want to say what I’ve got to say and then I’ll be gone.”
She moved away to the shelter of the wall, into the shade and — more pertinently Mullen thought — out of sight of Becca who was singing ostentatiously in the kitchen. “We can’t pay you any more money. So as far I am concerned, the job is complete.”
Mullen looked at her, trying to read her. “I’m not expecting any more money, not at the moment.”
“People have gone cool. They think it was a waste of their money when the police are free and much better resourced that you can be on your own. They blame Janice for persuading them to take you on. They say she was soft on you, which was the reason she was so keen to hire you.”
“I got the impression you were pretty keen to hire me too.”
She didn’t deny it. She didn’t say anything, but Mullen had already worked out that lying wasn’t something she would readily resort to.
He pressed on. “I’m making progress you know.”
She shrugged. “Even so.” She turned and started walking away. Mullen followed her to her car.
He let her get in. “I thought you wanted to know the truth?”
“What is truth? It’s not going to make a difference, is it? Whether you find out exactly what happened or not, he’ll remain dead.”
“Did you love him, Rose?” It was the obvious question and he already knew the answer to it because why else would she have tears in her eyes?
But she wouldn’t admit it with words. She leant over and opened a large
leather bag that was lying on the passenger seat. She pulled a book out and handed it over to him. “I promised to lend this to you,” she said. “I would like it back, but only when you’ve read it. Come round and we can talk about it and I’ll even cook you a frozen pizza.”
Mullen took the book — The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe — and felt a pang of something, a mixture of regret for himself and pity for her. He knew that he ought to ask her to stay. But instead he stepped back, closed the car door and watched her depart. Then he went inside to look for Becca Baines.
* * *
“You certainly know how to give a girl a good time.”
Becca Baines and Mullen were sharing the pizza he had bought, accompanied by some rather tired-looking salad and a tin of mixed beans. He was drinking tea, while she had taken him at his word and opened some white wine.
“Rose didn’t seem very happy.” Becca was clearly determined to chat.
Mullen would have preferred to eat in silence, but he guessed he would have to say something. “Maybe not.”
