Death at Rainbow Cottage Jo Allen (digital book reader .TXT) 📖

it, a clear declaration that the past was the past and needn’t trouble him.

It did, of course. Being let down by someone who cared about you always hurt and the only thing to be thankful for was that Becca’s sharp exit had spared them the arrival of Adam Fleetwood, local charmer, ex-jailbird and Jude’s former friend. Satisfied that the drama was over for the evening, Doddsy crossed to join the group where Jude was already taking the order for a round of drinks.

‘Mine’s a St Clements.’ He caught Tyrone’s eye and a smile flared up on his lips unbidden, just as Becca’s smile had died at the prospect of meeting Jude. Love made the world go round for some and slowed it to a crawl for others. ‘Want me to come and help carry them?’

Jude’s nod was fleeting but clear, and so Doddsy followed him across to the bar. ‘It’s just as well Becca was just leaving,’ he said, a conversational opening that Jude could take or leave.

‘She had rain on her coat. It looked to me as if she’d only just arrived.’

‘Maybe she changed her mind.’

‘Or knew I was coming and ducked out. I’ve used that trick myself. I don’t blame her, if she thinks she’d be uncomfortable.’ Jude had written the orders on the back of his hand and reeled them off to the barman. ‘At least it spares me.’

Across the room, Ashleigh had broken off from her conversation long enough to watch them as they stood by the bar, but when she saw Doddsy looking at her she looked away again. ‘What do you need to be spared? You’ve found what looks to me like a high class replacement.’

‘I know.’ Jude grinned. ‘She’s far too good for the likes of me. It’s pride, I suppose. No-one likes rejection. And I don’t want to sit and watch my old mate Adam flirting with Becca to get back at me.’

Adam Fleetwood was a braggart and a troublemaker, a man who might deem it worth coming off worse in a fight with Jude in the knowledge that his enemy would have a professional misconduct charge to answer if he succumbed to temptation and took a swing at him. In the face of such flagrant provocation, Jude maintained superhuman patience. Self-discipline had always been both his strength and his weakness.

‘You think that's it?’

‘I’ve known the two of them all my life. They’re incompatible and he doesn’t know the meaning of forgiveness. It won’t last, and she’ll get hurt when he realises he can’t get to me and he dumps her. Hopefully by then I’ll be past caring.’

There was bitterness in his voice. Doddsy, who knew him well, wasn’t surprised but it wasn’t like Jude to let these things show. Nor was that public display of affection something he’d normally have allowed himself. ‘Let’s hope so.’

‘And what about you? Setting out on the dating game, are you?’ Jude’s tone was deliberately light and he as turning away to marshal the first of the drinks as he spoke.

He didn’t often ask personal questions, waiting for Doddsy to share. If Doddsy had his way no-one would know anything of his business unless he chose to tell them but that was just the way he was. Tyrone, so very different, had already pushed him out of his comfort zone. I want to tell the world about my new man, he’d said, when Doddsy had counselled caution. I’m not ashamed of you.

‘Who wants to know?’ If the secret was out, it was out.

‘Nobody. I just want you to know that I don’t care what you do or who you go out with, and no-one else should, either.’

For a moment Doddsy toyed with letting it go, but his natural curiosity impelled him to ask the question. ‘Then why ask?’ He looked to Tyrone again, for pleasure and for courage.

Jude sighed. ‘It’s just a heads-up.’

‘It’s Tammy, isn’t it? What’s she said?’

‘Only that she’s worried about the age difference. Don’t worry. I advised her to mind her own business.’

‘I bet she thinks he’s looking for a father figure.’ Though quite what that might say about Tyrone’s relationship with his father — a very clever, uncompromising man — was up for discussion.

‘I don’t know what she thinks, but she’s Tyrone’s mum. Have a heart. Don’t change anything about yourself, mate. But try and understand where she’s coming from, for Tyrone's sake at least.’ Jude’s attitude was apologetic, as if he was taking a rare trespass beyond the bounds of his better judgement. ‘I’m right behind you. But we have to work with her.’

Closing his hands round three pint glasses with the ease of practice, Doddsy turned and looked once more at Tyrone, who was laughing uproariously at something one of the junior detectives had said. ‘We’re just friends.’

‘You don't have to justify yourself to me. You can be whatever you want. I don’t care.’

‘I don't mind telling you. Yeah, I like him. Yeah, I like him a lot. We’ve been out a couple of times. But we’re very different. And she’s right, isn’t she? He’s a hell of a lot younger than me. That makes a difference, too.’ Age was a strange thing. In his career Doddsy had come across many people who had engaged in flings with younger partners and it had ended in frustrated violence. Some of them, ending up in court on an assault charge, had excused themselves on the grounds that the relationship made them feel young, good about themselves. Tyrone, with his youth and his humour and his belief that everything was achievable if you gave it enough time and effort, had the opposite effect on Doddsy, even as he moved irresistibly towards the inevitable acknowledgement that he loved him. He made him feel old and tired, as if he had very little to offer so promising a man.

Jude