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you were coming back to Bradfield, I got on to Bradfield Moor and asked for part-time clinical work.’ He grinned. ‘So here I am.’
‘You came back to Bradfield because of me?’ Carol’s expression was guarded. ‘I don’t want your pity, Tony.’
‘It’s nothing to do with pity. You’re the best friend I’ve got. I have some idea of how hard this is for you, Carol. And I want to be around if you need me.’
Carol waited for the waiter to deposit their beers, then said, ‘I can manage, you know. I’ve been a cop for a long time. I’m capable of catching villains without your help.’
Tony took a long drink from the bottle of Indian lager while he considered how to deal with her wilful misunderstanding. ‘I’m not here to help you do your job. I’m here because that’s what friends do.’ He gave a crooked smile. ‘And besides, it suits me to be here. You should see the nutters they’ve got locked up in Bradfield Moor. It’s a dream come true for a weirdo like me.’
Carol snorted, spraying the paper tablecloth with beer. ‘Bastard! You waited till I had a mouthful of beer to make me laugh.’
‘What do you expect? I’m trained to provoke reactions. So, where are you living?’
‘I’m camping in Michael’s spare room while I look for somewhere to rent.’ Carol studied the menu.
Tony pretended to do the same, though he already knew he’d choose the fish pakora followed by the chicken biryani. The lack of commitment implied by Carol’s decision to rent rather than to sell up in London and buy in Bradfield was understandable. She wanted to leave herself an escape route. But it troubled him nevertheless. ‘That must feel strange,’ he said. ‘It having been your flat in the first place.’
‘It’s not ideal. I don’t think Lucy’s crazy about having me there. She’s a barrister, remember? She does a lot of criminal defence work, so she has a tendency to regard me in the same light as a chicken farmer regards a fox.’ The waiter returned and they ordered their meals. As he departed, Carol met Tony’s eyes. ‘What about you? Where are you living?’
‘I was lucky. I sold my cottage in Cellardyke practically overnight. I’ve just bought a place here. Near where I used to live. A Victorian semi. Three bedrooms, two receptions. Nice big rooms, very light.’
‘Sounds good.’
The waiter plonked a plate of poppadums and a tray of relishes in front of them. Tony took the opportunity to busy himself with something other than Carol. ‘Thing is, it’s got a cellar. Pretty much self-contained. Two big rooms, natural light. Toilet and shower. And a little boxroom you could easily turn into a kitchen.’ He looked up, the question in his eyes.
Carol stared at him, clearly unsure if he was saying what she thought. She gave an uncertain laugh. ‘What would I do with a kitchen?’
‘Good point. But it does give you somewhere to put the washing machine.’
‘Are you seriously offering me your cellar?’
‘Why not? It’d solve your accommodation problem. And having a copper on the premises would give me a sense of security.’ He grinned. ‘More importantly, Nelson would keep the mice away.’
Carol fiddled with the lime pickle. ‘I don’t know. Does it have a separate entrance?’
‘Well, of course. I wouldn’t want to compromise your reputation. There’s a door that leads to a flight of steps up to the back garden. And an internal door down from the house, obviously. But it would be a simple enough thing to fit a lock to that.’ He smiled. ‘You could have bolts too, if you wanted.’
‘You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?’
Tony shrugged. ‘When I viewed the house, it seemed like a good way of making it work for a living. I didn’t know what your plans were. But the builders started work on it yesterday. And I’d rather have you living there than a stranger. Look, don’t make a decision now. Think about it. Sleep on it. There’s no hurry.’ There was an uncomfortable