Chapter Thirty-Nine
Twenty-eight minutes later, Love was turning the key in his lock, opening his front door with one hand, plastic shopping bag in the other.
He’d driven back home via Notting Hill Gate, had stopped off at a couple of his local shops on the way to buy a jar of mayonnaise, milk, cigarettes and the latest copy of Playboy if they still had any copies left, which they did, and then as an afterthought went back for a packet of razors.
He closed the door walked through the archway into the lounge and dumped the bag on the couch. He strolled over to Julie’s bed. She looked up sleepily but glad to see Love.
‘All right, girl?’ he said. He bent down to tickle her ear. All three puppies were fast asleep. Two of them were twitching their legs pedalling away on an invisible bicycle, and the third, Love reckoned it was the boy, was snoring softly. ‘I’ll just let Mrs Burton know I’m back,’ he said.
Moments later, he was knocking on his neighbour’s front door where Love was informed that Julie had just returned from ‘doing her business’ as Mrs Burton put it.
‘She’s no trouble, Mr Love, you know how fond both my husband and I are of Julie.’
‘I do, Mrs B, you are like an aunt to her.’
Mrs Burton grinned. ‘You know, my husband and I were talking, and if there’s any chance of having one of the puppies, do you think you would consider us?’
‘I’d be delighted,’ Love said. ‘But I thought you weren’t in a hurry to get another.’
Love was only too aware of the pain they’d felt at the loss of their dog the year before. They’d taken Sheba to the vet when a lump had been discovered. It turned out to be a tumour. Two weeks later, the little spaniel was dead.
She shook her head. Her shoulder-length brown hair with its silver threads shimmered in the light. ‘We weren’t planning on getting another just yet but I say you can’t plan these things.’
‘I know what you mean.’
‘It’s like fate, Julie having these pups, if there’s any chance…’
‘Mrs Burton, I’d be delighted if you took one of the puppies and so would Julie,’ he said. ‘It would be like keeping it in the family.’
Mrs Burton grinned, blushed, and touched Love gently on the arm. ‘Thank you, Mr Love.’
‘I’ll see you later,’ Love said. She shut the door as he walked across the landing with its elegant scruffy antique rug, over to the staircase, and back downstairs to his flat.
He strolled over to the couch, picked up his bag of shopping, walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, grabbed the mayonnaise and milk and placed them inside. He took the cigarettes through into the lounge where he dropped them on to the coffee table, walked back into the hall and through to his bedroom where he chucked the magazine on his white Victorian chest of drawers. He kicked off his cowboy boots, shrugged off his Donegal, and a moment later was shuffling back into the lounge in his Muppet slippers.
He was going to relax. He had plans to cook something light, like an omelette, and perhaps finish off the roast chicken which reminded him he’d left behind his chicken salad sandwich at the office. He sure hoped it wouldn’t go off overnight in the warmth of the room. Well, if it did, too bad, his fault.
He walked over to a table lamp, switched it on, glanced over at Julie who was now fast asleep and scuffed his way into the kitchen. He glanced down at her food bowl. Good, he determined, she’d eaten her breakfast, and no doubt Mrs Burton had given her a couple of Yarrah dog biscuits at lunchtime. He sure was glad Mrs B wanted one of the pups. He reckoned it would be a good thing for all concerned.
He made himself a pot of tea, placed it on a bamboo tray along with a mug, the rest of the opened carton of milk, the sugar bowl, a spoon, plate, and a box of Bakewell Tarts, snatched a sheet of kitchen roll and took the whole lot into the lounge. He sat down on the couch with a sigh, lit up a cigarette, stretched his long legs out under the table, and leant his head back against the cream-coloured material.
The only sounds to be heard were the distant buzz of traffic, the odd car passing by under his window, and the birdsong.
It had surprised him when he first came to London how well you could hear the birds singing. It was almost like living in the country.
One more thing to do, no, he remonstrated with himself, make that three.
He got up, walked back into the hall to where Mrs Burton had placed his daily newspaper on the elegant Regency hall table, grabbed it, walked into his bedroom and retrieved his mobile phone from his jacket. Back in the lounge he turned on the television, swore silently under his breath before turning it off again. He stepped over to his stereo and pressed the “play” button on the tape recorder. Soothing sounds of James Last would hit the spot. He was feeling mellow and he wanted to hold on to that.
He strolled back over to the couch, poured his tea, and relaxed. The room had a soft glow about it. It was grey outside, the trees were rustling in the slight breeze, spots of snow reached out with their icy fingertips to make pretty patterns on his French window.
Inside the flat it was warm and cosy. Love thought of the puppies. He’d already decided to keep one of the girls, the one with a funny little black and tan splodge on her foot. She seemed to be the one who stayed closest to Julie. He reckoned the other girl could go to Mrs Burton.
And as for the boy?
Love knew exactly to whom the little dog would go. A little boy should have a dog to grow up with and Timmy would fit the bill perfectly. Love smiled. He would check with Ashley first but hopefully in ten weeks time that cute little dog snoring his head off would be galloping about in his new back yard with his new best friend.
Love glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece. It read 15:05 hours. The third thing he wanted to do could wait a couple of minutes. He wasn’t one hundred per cent sure if he was doing the right thing but figured he would give it a shot.
To hell with it! What did he have to lose?
He leant forward, his muscles rippling under his close-fitting shirt, stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table in front of him and grabbed his mobile. Flicked it open, pressed in a number, it rang, his stomach flipped.
‘Hello?’
‘Look, I’m sorry about earlier, I…’
‘Haven’t we had this conversation before, Detective Love?’
That damn woman needled him, she got under his skin and damned if he knew what it all meant. But there was one sure way to find out once and for all. And now it looked like she wasn’t going to give him an easy ride. ‘You’re going to make this difficult for me I can tell.’
‘Give me one good reason as to why I should make it easy.’
‘Christ, lady, you are so infuriating.’
‘Isn’t that my line?’
Love muttered something. ‘Well?’
‘Well what?’
‘I asked where you live.’
‘Why on earth do you want to know?’
‘Just tell me, woman, for God’s sake!’
‘Why should I?’
‘Listen, lady, I’m trying to ask you out on a date.’
‘And this is your best technique?’ she said.
‘Where you’re concerned, lady, all my techniques go right out of the window.’
‘I’m busy, Detective Love,’ she said. ‘I don’t get a lot of time to go out on dates as you put it.’
‘Same here so we’re perfectly matched.’ Love laughed. ‘So? What about it? Where do you live, Doctor Cooper?’
‘Here at the hospital.’
‘At the hospital?’ he repeated. ‘How does that work?’
‘They have a few studio flats available for senior staff.’
‘And how come?’
‘How come I’m here?’
‘That’s about it.’
‘I was in the middle of buying a property it fell through I had nowhere else to go.’
‘So, you’re homeless?’
‘Not strictly speaking but
if you put it like that.’
‘Had any luck finding another place?’
‘Yes and no. I’m looking at a couple of properties tomorrow evening.’
‘What time?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘What time are you meeting the agent?’
‘At six o’clock.’
‘Fine! You should be through by seven I’ll pick you up at the hospital.’
‘But I never said I’d go out with you!’
Love laughed. ‘Lady, you never said you wouldn’t.’
‘Detective Love, you really are one of the most uncouth and…’
‘Doctor Cooper,’ Love said, and grinned. ‘Isn’t this where we came in?’
Yeah, he’d definitely take that woman out on a date if it was the last thing he did. He smiled as he closed his mobile and sat back. Christ! Make it the second last thing. His thoughts strayed to the solitary item sitting on top of a bright red filing cabinet back at his office. He was going to water that sorry-ass spider plant if it was the last thing… suddenly his mobile rang.
He picked it up, flipped it open. ‘Love DCA.’
‘Make it eight o’clock and we’ll eat at my place.’
He looked up. ‘Really?’ That was unexpected.
‘Yes,’ she said. He could tell she was smiling. ‘Really!’ Love seemed to hit the right buttons even if they weren’t on the same wavelength. She liked him despite herself and she liked his home full of contrasts, old and new, and so reminiscent of him.
And she loved his dog!
Julie Cooper decided she’d enjoy exploring a relationship with this Robert Redford lookalike, this gruff but sensitive lumbering blond bear of a man from New York. Although her career came first, she’d make time for this, it might be fun, interesting, she thought, whatever happens.
She held her breath as she waited for Love’s reply.
Suddenly, the buzzer to Love’s front door burst into life. Still holding the phone to his ear, Love got up, walked over to the French window and looked out. Down below in the road was parked a panda car, a PC standing by the driver’s door.
Love strode back into the hallway, buzzed the switch and opened his front door.
Love dated for good company, good sex, to be good friends, nothing more. He couldn’t be tied down. His career came first and Doctor Julie Cooper would be no exception. He thought of his nocturnal dreams and the way they sparked off each other.
It might be fun, even though they weren’t on the same wavelength, interesting, Love thought, whatever happens.
He paused before answering. ‘I’ll be there,’ he said, and smiled.
Stuart walked in and watched as Love snapped shut his mobile.
‘Hello, partner,’ he said. ‘We’re needed.’
‘Really!’
‘Really!’ Stuart grinned.
‘Where?’
‘I got a call from HQ requesting our presence at this address,’ he said, passing a slip of paper over to Love. ‘Nice slippers by the way.’
Love took the note in his hand, glanced at it, shoved it into the front pocket of his chinos. He looked at Stuart, and grinned. ‘Give me a second to change and call on Mrs Burton and mate…’
‘Yes, Love?’
‘You can tell me all about it on the way.’
The End
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