Cold Pressed Read Online Free Page B

about exactly what her advisory role might be in
Greece.
    An extra five minutes spent looking for her hairbrush
meant she missed the first train and had to wait half an hour till the next.
Matthew bought her a baguette for the journey and stood at the ticket barrier
to wave her off. She apologised once again for the interruption to their
peaceful weekend routine.
    “I’m used to it. Nothing involving you ever goes to plan,”
he said. “Now you’d better go. The quiet carriage is Coach C. And let me know
when you’re home.”
    She boarded the train, found a seat at an empty table in
Coach C, unpacked her laptop and baguette and settled down to read Hamilton's
email. He'd included flight details and information on her accommodation. She
was flying to Heraklion, the capital of Crete, then travelling by boat to Santorini,
where the liner was currently docked. An Inspector Stephanakis would meet her
at the airport. It all sounded exotic and a world away from damp Devon
mornings. She had no idea of distance or proximity of these places but their
names alone set off all sorts of ideas. A quiver of anticipation ran through
her as she imagined herself standing on a deck, watching the sunset, wearing a
chiffon scarf and drinking a gin sling. She trained her attention on the case.
     The situation at first glance appeared really rather
simple. An old lady took an unfortunate tumble while on holiday with friends,
and one of them seemed convinced it was no accident. Not the first time an
excess of Sunday night television had affected perceptions in those with
failing faculties. In the final year of her life, Beatrice’s own mother had
often ascribed incidents from Downton Abbey or Coronation Street to her neighbours, resulting in some awkward misunderstandings.
    In such a non-starter of a case, Hamilton's request for her
assistance struck her as an over-reaction. Nevertheless, she would follow
orders. If he considered it a personal favour, it probably meant politics were
involved.
    Her phone rang and she checked the screen. It was Marianne,
Matthew's eldest daughter. Instantly, images of a white-faced Matthew in an
ambulance flashed through her mind. Ridiculous, she'd only left him ten minutes
ago.
    "Marianne, hello. Is everything all right?"
    Against a background of pop music, she heard Marianne's
laugh.
    " I was calling to ask you the same question. Dad
just phoned to ask if I'd like to join him at The Toad tonight because you had
to go back to London. There's nothing wrong, is there? "
    "Not at all." She dropped her voice for fear of
disturbing the other passengers. "My boss needs me to go to Greece to
assist with an investigation, so I have to fly out tomorrow. Didn't your father
tell you that?"
    " Yes, that's what he said. I just wanted to check he
hadn't, you know, upset you or anything."
    "Far from it. To be honest, I think it's the other way
around. My dashing off has put his nose out of sorts. But he's being decent and
has accepted it with typical grumpy grace."
    " He would. And there's always next weekend to put
his plans into action. OK, so long as everything is fine between you two, I'll
call Tanya to rearrange next Sunday. I'm so looking forward to this! Good luck
in Greece and see you soon!"
    Beatrice ended the call and watched the fields flicker by,
glowing as if irradiated in autumnal sunshine. Marianne's words suffused her
with a sense of belonging, of acceptance and a depth of almost maternal
affection she'd never expected to experience. Her phone beeped again. A text
message.
    Sorry to miss
the big lunch! But can't wait for next weekend. Love, Tanya and Luke xoxo
    So much spontaneous warmth made her smile and hug herself.
That feeling took a long time to fade.
    Until she started thinking.
    A delay between Reading and Paddington meant she
eventually got back to Boot Street at half past four. The City cast long
shadows across the East End as shops and stalls began the process of giving way
to the alternative