I freeze. It had occurred to me that DCI Bird and Jane might meet at some point—in a village this size everyone knows everyone—but there hasn’t been time to think that through since she arrived without any warning. Sleeping together again last night didn’t help withbringing up the subject of my marriage. There’s never been a good time to tell Bird the truth or try to explain.Fuck.She already knows.
“DCI Bird is coming here?” I ask, hoping I might have misunderstood.
“Yes. She was here earlier looking for you. Twice. Said that you weren’t answering your phone and that she was worried. I guess I’ve been worried too. What with you sneaking in at 4:00AMlast night then sneaking back out again. You’re working too hard, my love. I know you’ve been worried about having a new boss so I invited her for dinner.”
“Youinvitedherhere?”
“Yes, I thought it would be nice. Why, what’s wrong?” Jane asks.
Everything.
Before I can answer someone knocks on the front door.
52BIRDY
The door opens and I enjoy the sight of Carter squirming in the distance as I enter his home. The usually empty pub was packed full of people—all with their faces painted like skeletons for the Day of the Dead parade—so in lots of ways it was a relief to get away. Carter’s lovely, albeitveryyoung wife takes my jacket and hangs it on the bottom banister of the stairs, on top of an already teetering pile of coats. I see the large and messy collection of wellies and walking shoes in the hallway, some caked in mud and sand, and it seems Carter’s home is not as neat and tidy as the rest of his life.
Jane leads me through to the kitchen and I take it all in. The house has been decorated on a budget, but everything looks tasteful and carefully chosen. It’s clean enough but not remotely tidy. There is evidence of a baby everywhere I look, from the photos on the wall to the baby bouncer in the corner, and blankets, toys, and bottles strewn about the place. But it still looks nice. Feels welcoming. Like a real home. There’s something rather lovely about the organized chaos of family life.
I bookmark that thought and take a seat at the table.
“I’m not the world’s best cook, sorry in advance,” Jane says.
Looking at her I’m not convinced she’s the world’s best anything.
World’s best mother maybe?says a cruel voice inside my head.
Jane certainly seems to love her little girl. Carter’s wife is not at all what I was expecting—but then I didn’t even know he was married until a few hours ago. Jane looks exactly the same as she did earlier today, with her denim dungarees over a Breton top, and slippers shaped like animals that should only be worn by children. She’s made no effort with her appearance from what I can tell, even though she was expecting me this time. She clearly doesn’t see me as a threat or anything other than Carter’s boss.
And why should she?
Wives should be able to trust their husbands.
I try to have kind thoughts—apparently it’s scientifically proven to be better for your health—but it’s hard. Jane is not the sort of girl I would have imagined Carter settling down with when he seems so overly ambitious in every other area of his life. She’s a plain Jane if ever I saw one. “I hope you like homemade lasagna,” she says.
Depends on the home and who’s making it.
“That sounds delicious. Thank you so much for inviting me.”
“Well, I thought it would be good to get to know Carter’s boss. I know you’re new to the area, and he said you’re all alone, so I thought a bit of company might be nice.”
I am alone.
Forty-something years on the planet and I seem to have very little to show for it. Jane didn’t mean the words in a hurtful way, so I try not to let them hurt.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asks.
“Just water would be lovely.”
“We have wine. I bought it especially—”
“DCI Bird doesn’t drink alcohol,” Carter interrupts, as though I can’t answer for myself. It’s the first thing he has said since I arrived.
“Water is fine for me, but you go ahead,” I say.
“Oh…” Jane replies, as though I just said I drink only blood. “Well, never mind. You’ve arrived in Hope Falls at a fun time. Didyou know about the Day of the Dead festival? The torchlit parade starts just down the lane later. I can’t go this year because of the baby—obviously—but the two of you should check it out after dinner.”
I’d rather eat my own liver.
