Page 84 of Worse Than Murder
I place a comforting hand on Tania’s arm. It feels strange to be offering someone comfort when I’m such a complete basket case. I quickly remove my hand.
‘When you and I started out in our jobs, they were male-dominated, right?’ Tania begins. ‘We had to prove we were as good as the men, if not better. In order to do that, we poisoned ourselves, sacrificed our emotions. We didn’t cry over a crime scene or a dark story, because we knew the men would laugh and tell us our hormones were getting in the way. Now look at us: we can’t even comfort each other because we’ve forgotten how.’
She turns and heads up the drive, leaving me at the bottom, musing on her words.
She’s right.
* * *
Lionel Bell’s bungalow is neat and tidy. There’s fragrances of furniture polish and air freshener.
‘Nice to see you again, Lionel,’ Tania says by way of a greeting.
He doesn’t say anything back. He steps to one side and allows us to enter.
We stand in the hallway while Lionel closes the door. I look around me at the bright space. I take in the framed artwork on the walls, all landscapes, all local, and ones I recognise from my many runs through the hills and valleys. It’s neutrally decorated in warm creams and beige, though the carpet is looking a tad threadbare.
Lionel is dressed in similar colours to his home. He’s wearing beige chinos, a white polo shirt and a loose-fitting cream cardigan over the top. He leads us into the living room which is spacious and dominated by a huge picture window giving a view of the entire village.
‘Wow,’ I marvel.
‘Sorry,’ Tania jumps in. ‘Lionel, this is Matilda…’
‘I know. Nice to meet you again.’
I quickly turn to look at him. ‘Again?’ The penny drops. ‘Oh, you’re the man in the coffee shop.’
‘That was me. How are you feeling now?’
I can’t answer that. ‘I’m… better, thanks.’
‘You’ve met?’ Tania asks.
‘I was in the tearoom and looked over and there she was, bawling her eyes out. Understandable given what you’ve been through lately. I gave you some words of advice. I hope you’re taking them on board.’
‘I’m not sure. I’m trying to.’
‘What did you say to her?’ Tania asks him.
‘I told her that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’
Tania quickly turns away and dabs her eyes.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘That was what I told him when he was forced to quit the police force.’
‘Did it make you stronger?’ I ask him.
‘It made me harder. I’m not sure if that’s the same thing. Shall we sit down?’
We sit on a three-seat sofa. Lionel is about to sit on a matching armchair when he jumps back up.
‘Tea? Coffee? I’ve got a bottle of wine open, and I think there’s some gin somewhere. I assume neither of us are on duty,’ he says with a smile.
‘I’d love a coffee,’ I say.
‘Me too,’ Tania echoes.
