He went quiet, then said, “Well at least see what else you can find out about Tia.” I told him I would, and then he hung up. It upset me, if I’m honest with myself, because we never argue. But I can’t keep away from Persephone. It’s physically impossible, as if, when I pulled her out of the water, we became chained together by an invisible bond that cannot be severed.
Still, I decide that if I can get some details about Tia, it might smooth things over a bit with him.
“Have you heard from her yet?” I ask.
“No.” She hesitates. “I’m a little worried, but she has done this before. Last time she was away ten days before we heard anything. Turns out she was hiking in the Brecon Beacons. She turns her phone off so she can’t be contacted. Doesn’t seem to enter her head that we might be worried about her.”
I squeeze her hand. We haven’t been able to track Tia down, either. I’m starting to get nervous about what’s happened to her, but I pin a smile on my face, because I know Persephone is worried enough already. “She sounds feisty.”
“She is. I’m glad you didn’t meet her first because she’s by far the prettiest and smartest of the two of us.” She smiles, but it seems forced.
“I have a lot of trouble believing that,” I tell her.
She frowns. “She… overshadows me. I’m amazed Jude asked me out, because he met Tia first and he was all over her and barely looked at me. But she was already dating Simon by then, so maybe I was Jude’s second choice.”
I grit my teeth. The more I hear about that guy, the less I like him.
“Her full name is Hestia,” Persephone says. “Mum’s a fan of Greek mythology.”
“It’s a lovely name. Not quite as pretty as Persephone though.”
She nudges me bashfully. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“That’s the plan.” I grin and decide to change the subject. I don’t want her to be upset this evening. “What have you been up to today?”
Her breath frosts before her face. “I went back to the house and picked up my stuff this morning.”
“Oh?”
We pass a group of guys out for the night, on their way to one of the rowdier pubs, laughing loudly, pushing and shoving each other. I put my arm around her, placing myself between her and the guys, until we’ve passed them. Then I take her hand again.
“Was your ex there?” I ask.
“He was, unfortunately. I thought he was going to be at work.” She glances at the window of the charity shop as we pass it, studying the old teddy bears in the display, waiting for a new owner. They stare forlornly back. “It was… difficult.”
“I’m not surprised,” I reply. “I’m sure he’s furious at losing you. And if he isn’t, he’s an idiot.” She doesn’t say anything, and I frown. “Did he upset you?”
“A bit. He was aggressive and he got… physical.”
I stop walking. I’m still holding her hand, so she stops too and turns to face me.
She studies my face and obviously sees the anger in my eyes. “He didn’t hurt me. I pushed him away and ran out of the house.”
I still don’t say anything. Fury rages through me. I want to find him and punch his teeth down his throat.
“Mac,” she scolds. “I’m okay.”
“You want me to arrest him? Throw him in a cell for the night?”
She laughs and tugs my hand until I start walking again. “It’s tempting, I have to admit.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know. That’s very sweet. I dealt with it, though. I’m pleased about that. And the rest of the day went a lot better, because I went to the field unit. I got on really well with the head of the unit, and he’s suggested I apply for the job of his assistant. I have a proper interview tomorrow, after his meeting.”
“That’s great news.”
“Yeah, it doesn’t mean I’ll get it, of course, but I think I stand a good chance after today. I helped with his presentation.”
“Was that about the excavation of the baths?”
“Yes!” She seems thrilled that I know about it, although luckily she doesn’t ask how I know. “I would be so excited to have a role in that.”
I smile at her enthusiasm. “What are they hoping to do exactly?”
She tells me about the proposed excavations and the new exhibition center, blossoming as she describes the work in a way I haven’t seen yet. Before long, we’re crossing the river to The Green Man. “Wow,” she says. “I talk far too much.”
“Hardly. You light up when you talk about archaeology. It’s good to see you looking better.” I get to the gate of the pub garden, pull it open, and stand back to let her go in first.
Her lips curve up. “What?” I ask as we walk slowly up to the pub doors.
“You’re quite old fashioned, aren’t you?” she says. “Tia would have rolled her eyes and said she’s perfectly capable of opening the gate on her own, thank you very much.”
I stop outside the pub doors. I remember what she said about Jude being all over her sister. “Did she like Jude?”
“Yes, because he was often outspoken and dismissive of authority.” She chews her bottom lip. “If I’m honest with myself, part of the reason I started dating him was because I knew she’d like him. She’s always rebelled, always pushed the boundaries. Out of the two of us, she was the one who smoked marijuana first, who got drunk first, who had sex first. She’s always laughed at those who follow the rules. I felt that she and Jude sometimes laughed at me behind my back because I’m quiet and tend to do as I’m told.”
“She won’t like me much, then,” I comment.
“She’ll tease you for being a cop, for being a ‘good boy.’”
“Not when I’m off duty,” I tease.
She smiles. “It’s natural, I suppose, to want you to get on. But it’ll be nice to have someone on my side, so to speak.”
I open one of the doors and let her enter before me, curious at her words.
I like this pub. There’s a green man carved into the woodwork above the front doors, and another above the bar—the face of a man with oak leaves forming his hair and mustache and beard, a personification of nature. He’s King Arthur and Robin Hood and Herne the Hunter all rolled into one, the very essence of English masculinity and ancient godhood, providing balance and companionship to the Goddess. I feel immediately at home whenever I come here.
The place is warm, with two log fires. Strings of fairy lights around the walls give it the feel of a grotto. It smells of home-cooked wholesome food, the oranges studded with cloves hung over the fire, and coffee.
“Mac!” A guy in his fifties with gray hair shakes my hand, and we exchange a few words. Then, as we pass the bar, the bartender raises a hand and calls my name, and another, younger guy turns and claps me on the arm.
“Come here often?” Persephone asks, amused.
“Being a cop means everyone knows your name. No secrets.” I grin, take her hand, and lead her through to the restaurant area.
“Macbeth!” The young woman behind the desk smiles. “I saw the name and wondered if it was you.”