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October 2005

‘What shall I wear?’ Amy stood in the bedroom in her mismatched bra and pants.

‘That’s Chantel’s department,’ said Tim. ‘I think you look great as you are.’

‘But she’s not here,’ said Amy. ‘She’s never here any more. I miss her.’

‘You’ve got me,’ said Tim. ‘And we’ve got the place to ourselves.’ He winked at her and Amy cringed. ‘How about your silky blue dress?’ said Tim. ‘That’s pretty.’

‘I can’t find it,’ said Amy, rummaging through her wardrobe. ‘Besides, it’s a bit low cut. I want to look respectable.’

‘He’s a policeman,’ said Tim. ‘Not a Quaker. And besides, he’s going out with Chantel. He can’t be that square.’

‘How about this?’ said Amy finally, holding up a brown turtleneck sweater dress. ‘With opaque tights?’

‘Sure,’ said Tim. ‘I love my tights opaque.’

‘You have no idea what opaque tights are, do you?’

‘Not a clue,’ replied Tim. ‘But you look great in everything.’ He reached his arms out to her and she gave him a quick kiss.

‘I should go shopping,’ she said. ‘Now I’m the senior secretary at Trapper, Lemon and Hughes I should look the part.’ Margery in the office had finally retired and Amy had been offered a promotion. She’d been in two minds about taking it; she was still hoping to be able to spend some time on her art, and more money came with more work. But she hadn’t felt inspired for a long time. She’d taken the promotion and spent the extra money on the household items she’d been craving. She wanted to work on her art. But she also wanted a proper dining table. A matching set of cutlery. A Le Creuset pan in which to make casseroles. Perhaps even a suit to wear to work.

‘What if he doesn’t like me?’ asked Amy, her mind going back to the task at hand.

‘Then you don’t have to marry him,’ said Tim. Amy glanced at him. They hadn’t mentioned the M word since the day they’d moved in. ‘Chill out,’ said Tim. ‘Spike never liked you and that wasn’t an issue.’

‘He did!’ objected Amy. ‘I just didn’t like him. And besides, Jack is different. I think Chantel is really serious about him.’

‘I’ll buy a hat,’ said Tim. ‘Come on, let’s get going.’ He heaved himself up.

‘You’re not going like that,’ said Amy.

‘Like what?’

‘Put a shirt on. A proper one, with buttons.’

‘Buttons eh? The big guns.’

‘And clean trousers,’ she added, looking at the rather dubious spots on his jeans. ‘Chantel said the restaurant is fancy.’

‘I don’t see why we couldn’t just go for a beer,’ said Tim, pulling off his T-shirt and replacing it with a white buttoned shirt.

‘You look gorgeous in that,’ said Amy.

‘A pillar of the community,’ he said, as he stripped off his jeans and stood in his boxers and socks, searching for a clean pair of trousers. ‘OK,’ he said, finally dressed. ‘Will I do?’

‘Always,’ said Amy.

Amy was relieved she’d made Tim change. The restaurant was in town and there was no denim in sight. It was busy and a waiter with an exaggerated French accent that Amy was pretty sure was fake showed them to their table. Chantel and Jack were sitting there already, staring into each other’s eyes.

Jack Hooper stood up to greet her, and Amy found herself in a strong handshake. The last time they’d met had been in the police station late at night. She remembered him as muscly and a bit of a hero, but she hadn’t noticed just how handsome he was: he had chiselled features, piercing blue eyes, and his shirt could barely contain the muscles underneath. Tim looked malnourished by comparison and she gave him a reassuring smile just in case he was feeling inadequate. He didn’t seem to notice.

‘Great to meet you both properly,’ said Jack. ‘Chantel talks about you all the time.’

‘And you,’ said Amy. She leaned forwards and gave Chantel a quick kiss on the cheek, then went to sit down. To her surprise, the waiter was hovering behind her chair, waiting to push it in for her. Amy sat down self-consciously.

‘Isn’t it lovely here?’ said Chantel. ‘It’s Jack’s favourite restaurant.’ ‘The steak tartare is to die for,’ he said.

Amy glanced at Tim, who had recently become a vegetarian. He was scanning the menu.

‘I remember the first time I met you guys,’ said Jack. ‘In the police station.’ He smiled at Amy. ‘You were standing up for Chantel.’

‘You did too,’ said Amy, grinning back at him.

‘I told Chantel you fancied her,’ said Tim.

‘Don’t tell the bosses,’ said Jack. ‘But I even slipped her my number. I was heartbroken she never called.’ He smiled at Chantel, and put his hand on hers.

‘I’ve said sorry,’ said Chantel, laughing.

‘You’ve made it up to me,’ said Jack, giving her a big kiss.

‘Haven’t you?’

‘Of course,’ said Chantel.

‘We bumped into each other at the gym,’ said Jack. ‘Chantel didn’t recognise me, but I knew it was her.’

‘At the gym?’ queried Amy. She’d never known Chantel to visit such a place.

‘Well, just outside,’ added Chantel. ‘I was thinking about going in and joining, when out he came, looking like a Greek god.’

The waiter appeared again and filled their glasses with red wine. ‘The Pinot here is excellent,’ said Jack. Tim and Amy nodded, and Tim reached for a slice of baguette, then struggled to smear a swirl of hard butter over it.

‘I thought beer would be more the copper’s tipple,’ said Tim, giving up and taking a bite of dry bread. Crumbs sprinkled the tablecloth like snow.

‘I like the odd beer too,’ said Jack. ‘But I do enjoy the finer things in life.’ He squeezed Chantel’s hand and she looked ready to burst with happiness.

‘Jack isn’t just a policeman,’ said Chantel. ‘He’s on the fast track.’ Amy and Tim nodded again, trying to look suitably impressed.

‘And you are in retail?’ Jack said to Tim.

‘What?’

‘The shop you work in,’ explained Chantel.

‘I’m in

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