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“I’m not being awkward, sir, and I’m not threatening anyone or anything,” replied Anderson, standing to address the DCI.

You could have heard a pin drop. “But I think I speak for all of us when I say that the night that scroat put a bullet in Sarah he made it personal… for all of us. He might as well have shot us all.”

The rest of the team nodded and stood in unison.

“So yes,” continued Anderson. “It is personal, but not just for the boss.”

Chapter Forty-two

Malcolm sat comfortably. He’d been wined and dined. He’d enjoyed the company. The surroundings of Anei Bâlcescu’s conservatory would be more than adequate to while away the rest of the evening. Anei wheeled in a trolley containing coffees and an assortment of homemade cakes.

“You certainly know how to spoil a man.”

“Some men are worth spoiling. We have a proverb in Romania. We don’t eat to live. We live to eat. You are a man who enjoys your food.”

“I’ve enjoyed myself tonight. That’s the best meal I’ve ever eaten.” Malcolm truly meant what he’d said. It had been his first traditional Romanian dish. Cabbage à la cluj hadn’t sounded particularly appetizing, but when he’d tasted the chopped cabbage and mince served with sour cream, his taste buds had tingled.

“You flatter me.” Anei smiled.

“I’ve always believed in credit where it’s due. It was a wonderful meal, thank you.”

“Binevenit.” Anei cut and passed over a large piece of cozonac, a traditional pound cake usually baked in Romania for religious holidays. The pair ate and drank in silence. It was the most comfortable feeling in the world.

Malcolm had known Anei for three months. They had met at the gardening club, but for the last month, they had secretly been meeting at her farmhouse. Their love of plants was not the only thing they had in common. They had the same taste in music, good food, and books. Since the death of his wife Wendy, Malcolm had not met anyone with whom he felt he could be close.

Anei was different. He wasn’t after a physical relationship. Merely companionship. He was relaxed in her company, felt no pressure. Whenever they were together, he felt a sense of belonging. A feeling he found hard to explain, yet it seemed so natural.

Anei rose from her seat. “I would like to show you something.”

She left the room, returning quickly. In her arms, she carried an old brown cardboard box, tied together with a gold ribbon. As Anei untied it, Malcolm noticed her hands. They were not the hands of an old person. The skin was youthful, no liver spots. Her nails were well manicured, despite the fact that she worked the farm herself.

Anei pulled out a number of photographs, spreading them out on the table before them.

“These are of my family. I miss them so much. In 1940, Germany helped Hungary take the North Western part of Transylvania. Our home. If we had stayed in Romania, we would probably have been killed. We left a prosperous farm, and arrived in England with nothing.”

“It must have been har

d for you.”

“It was very bad. We escaped the clutches of the Nazis in 1943. My parents and my sister, Irina, Jacqueline’s grandma, who was twelve at the time. It was a very hazardous journey.

“We had God to guide us. We arrived in Southampton and took work on a farm, living in one of the barns. When my family had proved our worth, the landowners converted the barn into a home for us. Eventually, they retired, sold up, and moved to Yorkshire. We went with them in the hope of finding work.”

Anei paused. Malcolm saw the tears in her eyes. “Tragedy struck on the journey. My parents had hired a car and were putting fuel in at a petrol station. I was only three years old, but I will never forget. My sister, Irina, took me to the toilet. The petrol station was at the bottom of a big hill. A lorry lost control. I think the brakes failed. It was carrying petrol. There was an explosion. Killing our mother and father, and the truck driver. We were shielded because we were at the back of the station. In fact, we had gone into a field to pick some flowers. Irina panicked, and we ran. We didn’t know what else to do. I think she thought we would both be sent back if we were caught.

“It was a long night, and I have no idea how far we kept running, but we finally ended up at a farm. We slept rough, in one of the barns again. For maybe three or four nights, evading the farmers. Irina was caught stealing food by the owner. Somehow she managed to persuade them to let us help on the farm. It was like arriving in England all over again. We stayed. Perhaps our parents would have been better off if they had stayed where they were. We’ll never know.”

Anei smiled. “That was where Irina eventually met her future husband. He didn’t want to help with the farm. He was always playing football, hiding from work. But he made good.” She found and passed over a newspaper clipping of her sister’s husband Sid, proudly holding a trophy in the air, a football underneath a raised foot. The headline told of a local boy accepted by Leeds United.

“He looks so proud,” said Malcolm. As he read the clipping, he sensed that tragedy had struck their lives again. “Something happened, didn’t it?”

“Sidney was involved in a hit and run. He lost a leg. They never caught the driver.”

“That must have been awful. How did you cope?”

“We were very lucky. Sidney’s father had been in Germany at the start of the war. He was taken prisoner. He didn’t return until many years after the war had ended. His wife, Sidney’s mother, had died during that time. But when he came back, he brought with him stolen Nazi treasure. When he saw what happened to Sidney, and how we were all struggling, he sold some of it to help us. But his father never lived long enough to see what would become of his investment. He had been treated so badly by the Germans.”

Anei’s mood darkened. “Sidney’s father killed himself one night. He had terrible dreams. When he woke up, he was convinced the Germans were coming back for him.”

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