She paced around her lounge wondering whatever she was supposed to do with her life now. She wasn’t ready to accept what had happened. She needed to know more about the man who’d been stolen from her. So, having missed his burial, she decided to gatecrash his memorial.
As the tributes to Richard came to their natural conclusion, his friends made their way down the aisle and towards an open door, where Mandy could see tablesladen with bottles of soft drinks, plastic cups, paper plates and napkins. She hesitated, aware that she didn’t belong among the mourners, but nevertheless something compelled her to follow.
Soft-rock played softly through wall-mounted speakers as a mixture of people, faces old and young, helped themselves to food and chatted. Mandy was unsure where to stand, and found herself gravitating towards a lively group of men and a young woman. She was animatedly recalling a time Richard raised money for an abandoned dogs’ charity by skydiving – despite being terrified of heights. Mandy hovered on the edge of the conversation, and savoured the extra information she was gleaning about Richard from the woman’s story. Another in the group told how Richard had persuaded some of his personal-training clients to join him at London’s annual naked bike ride, again for charity. Everyone had a funny memory of Richard and as she listened to them regale these, she couldn’t curtail her envy.
‘Did he ever tell you about the time he got stung by jellyfish?’ The words were out of Mandy’s mouth before even she was able to be shocked by them.
‘No.’ A man with a fringe that hung down to his nose said, and all eyes fell on her. ‘What happened?’
Her mind raced back through the photos she’d seen of Richard, and one in particular stood out where he was standing beside a large, white catamaran, preparing to jump on board for a sightseeing tour.
‘We were swimming in the ocean in Cairns,’ she began, ‘when this school of jellyfish started floating in. He saw me struggling in the water trying to get back to the beach so he paddled out with his board and helped me to shore, even though he had to make his way through a cluster of them first and got his legs stung.’ She could picture everything she said with a crystal-clear clarity.
‘Typical Rich,’ said the young woman and the others nodded, smiling. Mandy smiled too, and felt goosebumps running up her back – she’d got away with it; no one could disprove her.
‘It didn’t stop him from going back in the water, though,’ she added. ‘I’ll always remember sitting in a restaurant opposite Sydney Harbour Bridge drinking with him until the early hours of the morning, swapping stories about travelling. I’ll really miss him.’ At least her final few words had a grain of truth in them.
‘Sorry, we haven’t been introduced,’ the woman said. She gently placed her hand on Mandy’s arm, leading her away from the others.
‘I’m Mandy,’ she said, and held out her hand.
‘Chloe,’ the woman replied. ‘And how did you know Rich?’
Mandy tried to disguise the panic that was swiftly rising inside her. She needed to think on her feet. ‘We … err … met in Australia when he was travelling, then we stayed in touch when we got back.’
‘How long were you out there for?’
‘Erm … a few months.’
‘And where exactly did you meet him?’
‘I think he was with some friends in Cairns to see the Great Barrier Reef, and then we hung out for a bit in Sydney.’
‘Really? That’s interesting.’ The woman feigned a smile. ‘Because I joined Rich for the Australian leg of his travels and we were never out of each other’s sight in Sydney.’
Mandy had taken her fabrication too far. She felt her stomach flip as the woman glared at her with an incensed expression.
‘Now you’re going to tell me who you really are and why you’re lying to people at my brother’s memorial.’
Chapter 17
CHRISTOPHER
Christopher prided himself on many things – his appearance, his determination, his skills in manipulation and the fact that he allowed very little to wrong-foot him.
He liked to think he had a firm grip on his emotions. If confronted with something that diverted him from a plan he’d set out to achieve, his instinct helped him to adapt where necessary so he could maintain his objective.
However, Amy’s admission that she was a police officer was a curveball. He’d been so wrapped up in keeping tabs on his other activities that it hadn’t occurred to him that he should check her background. He’d taken it for granted that all women were like the ones he targeted – gullible, lacking his intelligence and too trusting. A police officer would be none of these things.
Finding one’s Match had meant little to Christopher and he hadn’t planned on meeting her again. Their date had started as nothing more than a result of his mild curiosity, but now suddenly it had become interesting. Very interesting indeed.
‘A police officer?’ he repeated with a fixed smile. ‘That must be an engaging job.’
‘It can be,’ Amy replied proudly. ‘I’m a detective sergeant and it’s hard work, especially when you’re based withinthe Metropolitan Police. You can end up working all the hours God sends. But it’s a career for life if I want it to be.’
‘I don’t know much about the inner workings of the police,’ Christopher lied. ‘What is it that a detective sergeant does? Or is “investigate” better terminology?’
‘Either works,’ she said, and sipped her vodka and orange juice through a straw. ‘I’ve been seconded to the fraud squad for the last six months.’
