Preface to Murder, M Morris [best selling autobiographies TXT] 📗

‘Is it? I expect it is. Where are you from?’

‘Leeds.’

‘Yes, I thought you were probably from Yorkshire. Do you play cricket?’

‘No, sorry.’

‘Never mind. I don’t really like cricket anyway.’

Amy was quite unlike any woman that Jake had ever been out with. But he liked her down-to-earth manner and her forthright way of talking. Now that she’d cooled off a bit, her face was less red, and her freckles were starting to become visible. Of the three women he’d met via the dating app, Amy was the only one not wearing make-up. She didn’t look like she’d gone to any special effort to make herself look nice for him. But despite that, she really was quite pretty. He found that he wanted her to tell him more about bellringing.

‘So,’ he said, ‘would you like a drink?’

‘Oh yes, please. I’m parched after all that ringing and cycling. I’ll have an Old Speckled Hen. What are you having?’ She pulled a rucksack off her back and reached inside for her purse.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ll have the same.’

‘Two pints of Old Speckled Hen, please,’ said Amy to the barman. She turned to look at Jake. ‘So, the most important thing you need to know about bellringing is this…’

*

Candlelight. Wine. Soft music. After being tied up at work for such long hours this week, Ffion knew she needed to make it up to Marion, and this restaurant was an inspired choice. French, of course. No one did romantic dinners quite like the French. The Italians did passion, the Spanish did flamenco, and the Swedish did meatballs. But the French excelled when it came to intimate one-on-one dining, and Marion deserved Ffion’s full attention now that the investigation was finally over.

Ffion was happy to let Marion choose the food and wine, knowing that she was in the hands of an expert. They had started with Mediterranean fish soup, moved on to a main course of pheasant served with chestnut and mushroom sauce, and were now awaiting their pistachio soufflés.

Ffion had divulged a few edited highlights of the case, and they had swapped anecdotes about their times travelling and dining around the world. Now a hush descended over them, pregnant with anticipation. Last time they had spoken, Marion had hinted at some big announcement she wanted to make. Ffion was itching to invite her to Wales, to meet Siân and the rest of her family. But it was only fair to allow Marion to go first with whatever it was she wanted to say. ‘So,’ she said. ‘Do you have some news to tell me?’

Marion lifted her wine glass to her lips and sipped. ‘Yes. Exciting news. I have been waiting all week to tell you.’

‘Is it about work?’ Marion was a junior research fellow in the Department of Engineering Science specialising in renewable energy. Ffion found it exhilarating to discuss her work and learn about the latest developments in wind and wave power, and to hear about the transformative effect they would have in preventing climate change. And Marion always took an intelligent interest in Ffion’s own line of work, particularly the computer skills that enabled her to unearth so much information from a person’s phone or laptop. Marion had been particularly impressed by how Ffion had worked out Diane Gilbert’s password through the process of steganography.

Marion nodded her elegant head, a faint smile playing hesitantly on her lips. ‘It’s good news. At least, I hope you think it is good.’

‘Okay,’ said Ffion cautiously. ‘Don’t keep me in suspense.’

‘So, I have been here at Oxford for three years now,’ said Marion. ‘My position will expire at the end of this year.’

‘Right,’ said Ffion. ‘You told me you’ve been applying for vacancies.’ Marion was hoping to get an offer of a permanent position at her college, but competition for faculty and college posts was fierce. Nevertheless, Marion had an excellent track record of research. She was always travelling abroad to present her work at international conferences.

‘So,’ said Marion. ‘I’ve been offered a job. A full-time lectureship.’

Ffion reached across the table and squeezed Marion’s hand. ‘That’s fantastic news.’

‘Yes,’ said Marion. ‘The job is in Edinburgh.’

Ffion’s smile faltered. ‘What?’

‘I will start there next term.’

‘So you’ve already accepted?’ said Ffion, her voice tight.

‘I had no choice. An opportunity like that… it is too good to refuse. In Oxford, I might wait years for a permanent position.’

Ffion pulled her hand away in confusion. ‘But what about us? You said that this was good news!’

Marion tipped her head to one side. ‘Well, it is good news. For me, anyway. But I hope it can be good for both of us. Ffion, I want you to join me. Come to Edinburgh! I promise it will be a great adventure. What do you say?’

‘Move to Edinburgh? And leave Oxford?’

‘Why not?’ said Marion. ‘You have no family in Oxford. Nothing is keeping you here.’

‘I…’

‘I know this is a big surprise. But the university needed a quick answer. They want me to start in the summer term. Another lecturer is taking early retirement because of bad health. I tried to talk to you sooner, but you were always too busy at work.’

‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Ffion. Only a few hours earlier, Bridget had praised her actions in apprehending Annabel Caldecott and preventing a second fatality. She’d strongly hinted that promotion to Detective Sergeant might soon be in the offing, given her good work in helping to solve the case. She would need to pass the relevant exam, but that would be easy for someone of Ffion’s ability. Her career was just about to take off.

The waiter brought the soufflés to the table, depositing them with a flourish, but suddenly Ffion wasn’t hungry.

‘I hope you will say yes,’ said Marion. ‘Come with me to Scotland!