Frozen Grave (Willis/Carter #3)(57)

Sandy picked up the sandwich in her mouth and took it back to Mason. She placed it next to him on the blue coat. She nudged his head. He stirred at the smell of food. He reached out a hand and she licked his palm. Mason took a bite of the sandwich as Sandy watched him and then he placed it in front of her and nodded; she finished it.





Chapter 31


Ellerman awoke to see Emily getting dressed. It was Wednesday morning and a school day for her.

The room was so dark that he could only just make out what she was doing, reaching behind, zipping up her skirt. He heard the slide of her underskirt against her legs.

‘You should have woken me, what time is it?’ he asked.

‘It’s seven. We’re going to have an archery tournament today. I can’t afford to be late.’

‘But you’re a maths teacher—’

‘Not according to my head of department – now I’m apparently the archery expert. Especially since we have an Open Day coming up.’

‘Come back to bed; I have something I need your help with.’ She giggled but it was a polite giggle rather than a heartfelt one.

‘Have to be a one-man job, sorry; they will be beginning breakfast in a min and then my duties start.’

‘Come on, miss. What about your duty to me? I need you to demonstrate square roots and top-heavy fractions to me again.’

She smiled as she came across to the side of the bed. He reached out and pulled her down on it and wrapped her in the duvet as he held her tightly and snuggled into her.

‘Same time next week?’

She didn’t answer straight away. She tried to move but he held her tightly and she relaxed again in his arms.

‘What is it, Emily? Are we okay?’

‘Yes, but . . . I like being with you. I like the fact that we both share a Christian faith. I don’t like the fact that you are still living in the family home when you told me that was just a formality. Sometimes I feel like you’re not really with me. You’re always looking at your phone, checking your texts. You’re always leaving the next morning. You could stay around, you know?’

‘I will next time – I promise. You’re busy anyway – Miss Archery Expert.’ He gave her a squeeze and tried to see past her curly hair to kiss her cheek but he couldn’t quite make it. ‘I’d stay but you’re working anyway.’

‘I’m only working three days a week now.’

‘I know. Well, I promise to make a special effort from now on and come and see you more.’

‘Saturday evening. You could come Saturday. We could meet some of my friends maybe – to make it worthwhile – then we could go out for a drink and grab something to eat. As much as I like seeing you, we always seem to do the same thing. I cook and we go to bed.’

‘You’re right, as always. You’re right and I’m sorry. I’ve been so bogged down with work that I just haven’t given you enough consideration; but I will, I promise. Just bear with me. This winter is tough for me. It’s the worst time to try and sell yachts and the weather is interfering with the Spanish renovations. You know I really love you, Emily. I will try to keep you happy, I promise. When the spring comes, we’ll fly over to Spain and lie in the sun. You tell me the dates of your holidays and I’ll work it all out.’

‘I gave them to you already.’

‘Are you sure you did? Well, just give them to me again and I’ll get straight on it.’

She slipped out of his reach and stood to smooth her skirt down and make herself presentable. She reached down and kissed him.

‘You wouldn’t hurt me, would you, JJ?’

‘No. Never.’

‘You know I will never let you down? I know we were meant for one another. I would do anything for you. I just want it to work between us. I want us to live happily ever after, just us. I’ve been waiting for so long now.’

He sat up in bed and held on to her hands.

‘And that’s what I want too. Have faith in me, in us. I promise you it will all be okay. You mean the world to me. You know me better than I know myself.’

‘Yes – perhaps that’s the trouble.’

Emily left for work and Ellerman looked for his phone. He reached down and patted the carpet, looking for it. He usually kept it next to him whilst he slept. He couldn’t feel it. He had been so tired the previous evening he didn’t remember coming to bed. Too many brandies had left him making mistakes. He reprimanded himself. That was sloppy. And it wasn’t the first time recently that he’d put his phone down and forgotten where.

He got out of bed and put the light on, looked through the pockets in his jeans, his jacket; he couldn’t find it. He looked under the bed, in case he had kicked it there by accident. He went out into the hallway and into the lounge and he saw it on the coffee table. He picked it up and looked at it. Across the cover was an alert that he had three messages and one missed call. He was running things through his brain – what could she have seen? Anything? He was reassured. Nothing. There was nothing she could have seen. If she had read his messages he would know, unless she’d marked them as unread. Not likely. She was a technophobe. She could barely use her own phone. That’s what she always said.

He put in his code. He must alter it again. He couldn’t be too careful. He smiled, curious, when he saw a new message from Jo Harding: