Page 16 of Dead Fall

He laughed but there was something dutiful about it.

‘What’s up?’ she asked him, pushing her plate away.

‘You are a witch,’ he said wryly.

‘And you’d make a terrible spy.’

He set his knife and fork together on his empty plate. ‘That was delicious.’

She just raised her eyebrows but she felt a sense of vertigo. Was he about to dump her?

‘Look what it is, I’ve been offered a special attachment with Prof Farmilow in Gloucester. He’s the man to study hematopathology with so it’s a big honour to be asked.’

‘Wow. That’s great.’

Archie wanted to specialise in the study of diseases of the blood, bone marrow and lymph system so it would be a big break for him.

‘Yeah, his assistant has gone off sick so he’d like me to start tomorrow.’ His long-lashed grey eyes scanned her face.

Tomorrow?!

‘How long would it be for?’ asked Cassie.

‘Three months.’ He eyed her tentatively, trying to gauge her reaction. ‘Obviously, it’s way too far to commute so I would need to stay down there for the duration. But we could meet up some weekends when we’re both free, obvs.’

‘It’s a great opportunity, you should do it,’ she told him.

His face grew a frown, and after a pause he said, ‘You want me to go, don’t you?’

‘No! Of course not,’ she said, quickly. ‘It’s just you shouldn’t turn it down. I’ll miss you, obviously, but I’ll survive.’

He didn’t appear entirely convinced by her protestations. As he stood to take the dishes to the sink he whacked his head on the ceiling for the 109th time since coming to live on the boat.

Honestly? Her instant reaction to the prospect of having the place to herself again could be summed up in one word.

Hallelujah.

Chapter Thirteen

Spring was stirring as Cassie strode along the towpath the following morning: foliage starting to erupt over the canal banks, and here and there, the buds of early crocus flamed like gas jets. The sun against her face felt as soft and warm as a lover’s touch. Archie had left for his attachment in Gloucester that morning and as he’d climbed off the boat carrying his scuffed rugby holdall she’d definitely felt a tug of emotion.

But could she give up boat life just because it wasn’t really working for Archie? She pulled a wry smile: maybe she just needed a shorter boyfriend – or girlfriend.

*

‘I had it made by a silversmith in Hatton Garden for her tenth birthday,’ Chrysanthi was telling her, the two women sitting side by side in the empty reception area. Just after Archie had left she had called Cassie to ask if she could see her daughter again. It was a Saturday and since she was really only on call for check-ins Cassie should have put her off until Monday, but she had never yet refused a viewing request from a grieving family member.

Chrysanthi was smiling down at the open locket, immersed in the memory of a time when her daughter was still alive.

It was elaborate, silver filigree, with a Christian crucifix woven into the design, and opened to reveal two locks of hair. ‘It’s identical, isn’t it, your hair and hers,’ exclaimed Cassie. In fact, mother and daughter had looked strikingly alike: the same wide cheekbones, winged eyebrows and those slightly hooded eyes which gave that seemingly haughty look she remembered in the fourteen-year-old Sophia. The look that had been a red rag to the bullies.

Chrysanthi nodded before closing the locket and pressing it to her lips. ‘The morning after she died I went to her flat to pick up some mementos. I would like her to wear it.’

‘You know once she is at the undertakers’ she can wear her own clothes and anything else you like?’

‘I want her to have it now,’ said Chrysanthi. ‘So that I can feel somehow I am with her.’

‘It’s not really allowed,’ said Cassie, feeling torn. Mortuary rules were clear: no valuables were to be left on a body in case they went walkabout, leaving mortuary staff open to accusations of theft.

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