It went straight through.
Chapter 15
GRAHAM
He peers past the curtains at his yard just as headlights sweep around the corner, blinding him. Pulling the curtains back across, Graham releases the tension in his shoulders by rolling them back and clicking his neck from side to side. That’s better.
It’s late, much later than he expected. Perhaps Mr Mallow had car trouble or got lost along the way. If Graham remembers correctly, he drives a beat-up old banger that’s probably better off going to the scrapheap, so the fact it’s made it all the way to the darkest depths of Wales from the Lake District is a miracle in itself.
He flicks the kettle on as he walks past it to the back door. He rarely uses the front door. It’s in an odd location, smack in the middle of the lounge, so whenever the door opens, the cold from outside comes rushing into the living area. Therefore, it’s easier to use the back entrance located in the kitchen, so he can close the kitchen door; a barrier to keep the warmth trapped in the lounge.
Graham opens the door and watches as Mr Mallow’s old banger (still has it then) rolls to a stop. He stays where he is while the man, who he used to find infuriating, gets out of the car and waves at him, a dopey grin across his face.
‘Couldn’t have lived a bit closer to civilisation, no?’ calls out Mr Mallow. ‘On a few of those hills, I thought my car was going to stall halfway up and roll all the way back down.’
Graham spreads his arms wide at the open fields surrounding his cottage, despite it being too dark to see them. ‘It was the only place available.’
Mr Mallow smirks as he steps closer and extends his hand in greeting. ‘Good to see you again, Detective.’
Graham shakes his hand firmly. ‘And you, Mr Mallow.’ He’s about to offer a polite compliment, say that the man looks well, but truth be told, Mr Mallow looks anything, but well. The hollow, gaunt expression in his eyes and the paleness of his face stand out even against the dark backdrop. Perhaps he hasn’t been sleeping. Graham knows how that feels.
‘Wanted to get here before the darkness set in.’ Mr Mallow glances around. ‘But it looks like it beat me.’
‘You’ll find the darkness has ways of creeping up on you out here.’ As soon as he says it, they lock eyes; a mutual understanding of their past flitting between them. They don’t wish to speak about it, but they know it’s there.
‘Come on in. I’ve made the spare room up for you,’ says Graham. ‘You’re the first person to use it.’
‘Very kind of you.’ Mr Mallow opens the boot and brings out a small suitcase and a laptop bag.
Graham steps aside, allowing Mr Mallow to walk past, but he pauses at the entrance on the doormat. ‘Somethingwrong?’ asks Graham, noticing the man’s sweaty upper lip and twitching hands. He’s nervous. Maybe not nervous, but … agitated. Yes, agitated.
Mr Mallow crosses the threshold and closes his eyes for a moment. Seventeen seconds to be precise. Graham allows him his space to do what he needs to do to come to terms with walking inside a new place. When Mr Mallow opens his eyes, he smiles and walks all the way into the property, closing the door behind him.
‘Nice place you’ve got here,’ he says, setting his bags on the floor. ‘A bit of a doer-upper.’
‘Thank you. Yes, it’s a work in progress.’
‘Aren’t we all these days.’
‘Indeed. May I offer you a cup of tea? Or something stronger?’
‘Something stronger wouldn’t go amiss after the journey I’ve just had.’
‘Whisky it is then.’
Graham turns and retrieves two glass tumblers from a nearby cupboard, then reaches down and pulls out a bottle of whisky from the bar area. While he pours, Mr Mallow wanders wordlessly around the kitchen, glancing at the various items on the sides and shelves.
Graham thinks back to when Mr Mallow made himself at home in his office back in Cherry Hollow. The man stepped behind his desk while he’d been out of the room andrearranged all the pictures on the wall so they were straight. Graham half expects him to do the same with the various knickknacks on the side, but he doesn't. He passes them with a quick glance and moves on.
‘Ice?’ Graham asks.
‘Please,’ replies Mr Mallow. ‘Two cubes.’
Graham fetches four ice cubes from the freezer tray and pops two in each glass. ‘I know what you’re about to say,’ says Graham, handing Mr Mallow a half-filled tumbler of amber liquid.
Mr Mallow takes it, smiling. ‘What’s that then?’
‘It needs a woman’s touch in here.’
