*
Castle Black lies approximately three-quarters of a mile distant from the police station, and I generally make the journey on foot. Leaving the police station, you turn left on Piper Street, which runs out after about seventy yards, where it’s traversed by Victoria Road. If you turn left into Victoria Road, you will be walking down a slight incline until you reach Amberton town centre. Turn right, and you’ll be walking up and out of Amberton to the outlying villages. Cross Victoria Road, which I did, and do, and you’ll cross into Heather Drive. There’s a little triangle of grass on one side of the junction with a bench, where you can sit and rest. On the other side is a modern, single-storey cream building, which houses the veterinary surgery; I say the because Barney, Maggie, and Midnight are on their books. There are, I believe, two or three other veterinary practices in the town.
Walk along Heather Drive, which has a parade of shops halfway down – a newsagent; a grocer-cum-off-licence; a Chinese takeaway; and a Fish and Chip shop – and at the end turn left into Rook Lane. The houses are larger here, and some stand in their own grounds. If you walk the length of Rook Lane – which essentially runs parallel to Victoria Road, though it gently arcs towards town from its starting point on Heather Drive – you will find yourself at the public library, a grand old building, which was the subject of much protest and local press coverage in our first year here when the council toyed with the idea of shutting it down.
A small crescent runs off and on Rook Lane – unsurprisingly called Rook Crescent – which comprises four largish, three-storey houses, five bedrooms plus, standing in their own grounds, one of which is Castle Black. Castle Black is not a castle, nor is it black. It acquired the soubriquet as a result of a visit from one of my colleagues, a DI who lives in a three-bedroomed semi with his wife and three children. He wondered aloud why a childless couple would have need of such a large house. My mentioning that we had three cats didn’t strike him as sufficient justification.
Of course, we don’t need such a large house. It’s an indulgence, one which I’m happy to blame on my partner, his name is Paul, who was brought up in cheap rented accommodation and social housing, where neighbours’ noise – inconsiderate or otherwise – is something with which you’re obliged to come to terms. A week after we moved in, the skies darkened and the air crackled with electricity. We opened the front door and sat on the bottom step in the hall to watch the storm. As the lightning flashed and the rain poured, Paul put his arm around me and said, “I’ve never been happier than I am at this moment.” I confess a small lump came to my throat; I may even have shed a tear.
I enjoy being at home, but not nearly as much as Paul does. It never occurs to him that perhaps – just occasionally – we ought to go out. It does occur to him to suggest it occasionally, but only because we’ll have discussed it sometime in the recent past. Rather as if he’s come up with a slightly odd idea that nonetheless might meet with approval, he’ll say tentatively, “Perhaps we should go out this weekend.” I know I should appreciate his making the effort, but I find it amusing, and have, on more than one occasion, responded with gentle – I hope it’s gentle – sarcasm. “Oh my god, Paul. All this social whirl. I mean, really, don’t you ever feel like a quiet weekend at home?” Paul has a very good repertoire of wounded expressions, and will wander off looking crushed.
We bought Castle Black, or 1 Rook Crescent, on our arrival in Amberton. Paul wrote and writes articles for computer magazines and had just published his first book, an eccentric, tongue-in-cheek computer help manual, which wryly condescended to the reader and recommended and explained things it wouldn’t ordinarily occur to them they’d want or need to do. Obviously, your first task when you get your new computer home is to wipe the hard disk clean, thus rendering the computer temporarily useless to you, as well as clearing it of a lot of unasked for and unwanted junk in the process. You’ll then want to partition and format your hard disk and install the operating system and programs of your choice. Yes, there is a choice; indeed – don’t be frightened! – there are choices. In this way, you’ll be prepared and know what to do should disaster strike. A computer should come to you naked and unsullied, eager and willing to be clothed in the scrim and samite software of your choice. A computer should dress to please. When I began expressing discontent about living and working in London, he told me that he was happy to live wherever my job took me; and when I later got the opportunity to apply for the DCI position in Amberton, I reminded him of this. “Were you serious about moving with me?” I asked. “If I got a job in Scotland, you’d go with me?”
He said, “Yes. I don’t really mind where I live. I’ve no sense of attachment to place. Why? Are we moving?”
Amberton? Practically up the road.
Not a problem.