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  Allie fussed around, made her a cup of tea. At last, there was nothing more she could do and she left, reminding Jane to call her for any reason, however trivial.

  Finally, Jane was alone in the stillness of her familiar, now warm house, installed in an armchair in her sitting-room with the TV on. After five minutes or so, she turned it off. She tried reading a book but couldn’t concentrate because of the headache, which the painkillers had merely pushed into the background. She felt drowsy, but it was late afternoon and if she dozed off now, she’d have difficulty sleeping when she went to bed. The last thing she needed was to lie awake half the night worrying every time she heard a sound from the garden.

  She should call the kids, tell them what had happened, but she didn’t want to worry them. They were both in London. Patrick was training to be an accountant and Norah had landed a traineeship at the BBC. Jane had never expected them to stay in Lincoln after they graduated. Sometimes she envied Allie with her family all living close by, but mostly she was content with the way things were. Perhaps she’d tell them later, when there was no need for either of them to feel the need to rush home.

  It had been a thwarted burglar, she was sure. Jane thought about what the detective had said about someone bearing a grudge against her. The question had taken her by surprise. Until that moment it hadn’t occurred to her that her attacker might have been someone she’d encountered in the course of her duties as a special constable.

  It crossed her mind that perhaps she should have mentioned the attack on Ryan Brown to Warwick. Perhaps also her visit to the gym. But why? The attack on Ryan probably didn’t have anything to do with Mark’s murder, and as for Adam Eades and Phil Lavin, Warwick must have interviewed them and everyone else in Mark’s immediate circle by now. Also, she didn’t wish Warwick to know that she had been making her own enquiries.

  Despite her intention to stay awake, Jane dozed off. She woke with a start at around six in the evening. Her mobile was ringing. Damn! She’d missed the call. Seconds later, a text came through. Kylie Bright again.

  Hello. In case you missed my previous text, my name’s Kylie Bright. Ryan says you’d like to talk to me about the man who spoke to me in the Chinese restaurant. Are you free now? Could meet you in the Lion and Snake in the Bail in 10 minutes?

  Jane moved her neck gingerly from side to side and was relieved that the pain in her head had subsided. She turned on the lamp beside her chair. She’d fallen asleep in daylight and awoken to darkness. She hadn’t intended to go out again today and didn’t really feel up it, but she had no idea when this Kylie Bright might be able to meet with her again, so she texted her back agreeing.

  On her way upstairs to freshen up, she paused on the landing to admire the view of the cathedral’s floodlit towers. A thousand years of history was contained within its limestone walls. It was about as permanent a structure as it was possible to find in a modern city. Jane tried never to take her view for granted.

  She took the steps up to the next level two at a time and instantly regretted it as pain seared through her skull. She crossed the landing to the bathroom more tentatively. When she peered in the mirror, she was surprised to see that, apart from looking a bit washed out, she seemed none the worse for her ordeal of the night before.

  Satisfied that she looked presentable, she went downstairs and pulled on her boots and a warm coat. It was still perishing out there.

  The Lion and Snake was only a few minutes’ walk away. It was located in the historic Bailgate near the castle and the cathedral. On the road outside the pub, a series of brick roundels marked where the colonnades of the Roman forum had stood when the city had been known throughout the empire as Lindum Colonia. Jane sidestepped them, as though they were cracks on the pavement to be avoided in case they brought bad luck.

  The pub was reputed to be haunted by at least two ghosts, one a shy Roman soldier who resided in the cellar. The other, known as ‘the Granny with the bun’ roamed the upper floors of the building. Jane was sceptical about the stories of hauntings in this ancient part of the city. Hoping that she herself didn’t look too ghostly, she scanned the pub for a young woman sitting alone. Someone tapped her on the shoulder.

  “Excuse me. Are you Jane Bell?”

  “Yes. Kylie?” She reminded Jane of Thea a little, slight, fair, fragile.

  “I’ve got us a seat over there.” Kylie pointed to a chair with a jacket draped over it.

  “Can I get you anything from the bar?” Jane asked.

  “A glass of wine?”

  “Sure. Red or white?”

  “White, please.”

  “Go grab that seat.”

  Jane joined her a few minutes later. After some indecision, she’d opted for mineral water, not wanting to risk reviving her headache. “You must have been a bit shocked to hear from Ryan that he’d been attacked right after he left you.”

  Kylie gulped down some wine. Her cheeks were flushed. Perhaps this wasn’t her first glass. “I was. Especially when he suggested it might have been the guy who was pestering me in the restaurant.”

  “What do you remember about him?”

  “He was sitting at a table on the other side of the restaurant from me, but he had to pass my table to get to the drinks machine. He gave me a smile on his way back from getting a refill. I smiled back, hoping he wouldn’t stop by my table. Of course, he did. He paid me some lame compliment. I didn’t quite catch it, but I think it was something about my hair.”

  “Then did he move on?”

  “Yes. But he was back a couple of minutes later for another coke.” She rolled her eyes. “I knew he was going to hit on me again. Doesn’t it just piss you off when guys do that? Why can’t they just leave us alone when we’re on our own in public places? Anyway, this time, he asked if he could join me, and I said no. It made me feel bad, which is stupid, right? I mean he was the one putting me in that awkward situation in the first place.”

  She took another gulp of wine. “As soon as I made it clear I wasn’t interested, he started to get a bit abusive. First, he called me a stuck-up bitch.”

  Jane wasn’t surprised. She’d had similar experiences. There were plenty of men who took rejection personally. Whether through arrogance or low self-esteem, out would pop their latent misogyny. “I’ve been called worse than that,” she said in sympathy.

  “Well, it did get worse, actually. His comments got more . . . sexual.” She lowered her voice. “He called me a whore and told me I needed a good . . . I’m sure you can guess what came next. I told him if he didn’t leave me alone, I’d call someone over.”

  “Did he get the message?” Jane asked.

  “Yes. I watched him go up and pay for his food. After he’d gone, I felt kind of shaky. I’m not sure if I was just angry or a bit upset as well. Maybe a little of both.” She shrugged.

  “No one should make you feel like that.”

  “I know. It’s not the first time this sort of thing has happened to me. I didn’t deal with it so well last time, but I’ve learned since then.”

  Jane waited in case Kylie wished to tell her more, but she didn’t seem to want to talk about the experience. “Can you describe this man to me, Kylie?”

  Kylie sighed. “He was white, medium height, sort of solid — beard, dark hair, dark-rimmed glasses. To tell the truth, he looked like a lot of guys. I’m not sure I’d be able to pick him out in a line-up. He was sort of, ordinary. Mr Generic.”

  “Try to form a picture of him in your mind. Was there anything about him that stood out?”

  “Well, he was sort of creepy. I mean he wasn’t bad looking, but there was something sort of off-putting about him. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific. It was more how he made me feel than anything. Even before he started being abusive.” She frowned. “Do you know what I mean?”

  Jane nodded. “I think so.” But a feeling wouldn’t help identify the man. Kylie made him sound invisible.

  “Do you remember how he paid?” she asked. />
  “Cash. I saw him take it out of his wallet.” That was disappointing. No hope of tracing the transaction. Perhaps someone who worked at the restaurant might remember him.

  “How long had he been gone before Ryan arrived?”

  “Five, ten minutes.”

  “And Ryan didn’t make you feel uncomfortable? He said the waiter seated him at the table next to you.”

  “No, Ryan doesn’t give off any creepy vibes. He’s very open and genuine.”

  Jane said nothing. There were probably a lot of unwholesome characters around who appeared open and genuine, charming even. Jane had read and watched enough crime stuff to be aware that dangerous psychopaths could fool even those closest to them. Then again, she hadn’t felt any bad vibes issuing from Ryan either.

  “Actually, I spoke to him first. I recognised him from my history tutorial. We hadn’t actually spoken before. He says a lot of insightful stuff in class.” Kylie reached for her wine. By now her cheeks weren’t simply flushed, they were pink with embarrassment. Maybe her attraction to Ryan had preceded their encounter in the restaurant.

  “Sorry I wasn’t much help describing the man who harassed me. He might be a student. A lot of us go to that buffet place for the happy hour. I could look for him around campus and try to get a better description if I spot him. Maybe even get a name for you. What do you think?”

  Jane knew she should tell Kylie to steer clear of the man, just in case. He could be dangerous. She hesitated.

  “Obviously I’d do it subtly,” Kylie said. “Without actually approaching him or anything.”

  There was nothing wrong with that, was there? It wasn’t as if Kylie would be putting herself in any danger.

  “Okay,” Jane said. “But be careful. Don’t challenge him.”

  “I won’t.” Kylie smiled. It probably seemed a bit exciting to her. They chatted about other things for a bit, and Jane asked Kylie if she’d come from far to study at Lincoln. Kylie told her she was from York but her grades hadn’t been good enough for her to study there, so she’d chosen Lincoln. “Which is a shame,” she said, “because if I’d got into York, I could have stayed at home and saved a lot of money. I’m broke. Just before you came in, I was asking the manager if they were hiring.”

  “Actually, I might be able to help you there. Some friends of mine have just opened a vegan café on Burton Road. They’re looking for some extra help. I’ll give you their number. Tell them Jane Bell told you about the job.”

  “Oh, yes please. That’d be great. Do I have to be vegan?”

  Jane smiled. “No. I’m not and they let me in.”

  Kylie gulped down the rest of her wine. “I’ve got to go now. I’ve got an essay to finish. It’s got to be submitted by noon tomorrow so I might have to pull an all-nighter. Thanks for the job alert.”

  “No problem. Thanks for meeting me. I hope you meet your deadline.”

  Jane sat for a while after Kylie had gone. A man drinking alone at the bar smiled and tilted his pint at her. Jane looked away, thinking about what Kylie had said. She was right, some men just couldn’t leave women in public places in peace. Would the man think her rude? Perhaps he was just being friendly. She’d done it herself, smiled at someone across a crowded bar, or on a bus, or waiting in a queue. Wasn’t it just making a connection with another human being? A moment of shared humanity? That happened seldom enough in this era of mobile phones and avoiding eye contact with strangers. Surely there wasn’t always a darker subtext to everyday exchanges with our fellow human beings?

  Jane sighed. She’d met her late husband in a bar. He’d come up to her and paid her a cheesy compliment, made her laugh. She’d felt no sense of threat from him. If she’d shunned him, he would have just walked away, not pelted her with obscene abuse. But how to tell the difference between a Sam and the type of man who’d harassed Kylie? Despite what Kylie had said about ‘creepy vibes,’ feelings weren’t a reliable measure of another person’s level of threat.

  Her glass was empty. As she zipped up her parka, she glanced back at the bar. The man who’d smiled and tipped his glass at her was gone. Jane placed her glass on the beer mat beside his froth-ringed pint glass. As the barman scooped them up, they chimed against each other.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Jane arrived for a Saturday morning lesson with Thea, she noticed the dogs were surprisingly subdued. “They’re exhausted,” Thea explained. “I took them for a really long walk earlier.”

  “In the dark?” Jane wondered how early Thea meant. It was only nine now. A heavy, grey sky gave the impression of lingering darkness.

  “Oh yes! I love going across the fields in the dark mornings. I wear my head torch.”

  “Is that wise?”

  “Oh, take your police officer’s hat off, Jane. It’s perfectly safe with Buddy and Pearl bounding along beside me. No one would dare take them on.”

  “Hmm.” When had Thea started calling her Jane? It had been Ms Bell to begin with. Jane didn’t mind. Now that she was out of the classroom, setting boundaries with students seemed less relevant. Thea was a bright, confident young woman and Jane regarded her as an equal in all but age and experience.

  After an hour and twenty minutes, she asked if Thea had any questions about the text they’d been studying. Thea shook her head. As Jane began putting away her things, she sensed Thea watching her.

  “You have a daughter, don’t you, Jane?”

  “Yes. And a son.”

  “How old are they now?”

  “Norah’s twenty-one. Patrick’s twenty-two.”

  “You were pretty young when you had them. Were you strict with them?”

  Far too young, Jane thought. Patrick had been an accident but once he arrived, she and Sam decided they didn’t want him to grow up without at least one sibling. Norah had been born eighteen months later.

  “Depends what you mean by strict. I set boundaries. There was discipline. I hope I taught them to be good people.”

  “My parents let my brother and I do pretty much whatever we wanted. Most kids would envy that, but it’s a form of neglect, don’t you think, not caring what your children are up to?”

  Jane looked up from zipping her bag, realising that Thea wanted to talk. “We had childminders,” Thea continued, “the kind who come to your house, like nannies, I suppose. Some of them were quite strict, but not because they cared about us. It made their job easier if they taught us to do what we were told.”

  Jane avoided saying something trite, such as, “I’m sure your parents loved you really.” She’d learned early on in her teaching career that for a lot of kids, parental love was not a given. She squeezed the young woman’s hand. “If you ever need to talk about anything, Thea, you can talk to me, you know.”

  “Thanks, Jane. Do you fancy a cup of hot chocolate?”

  “That would be nice.” She had things to do, but they could wait.

  At Ollie Granger, Jane had often worried about the welfare and wellbeing of some of the kids she taught. She’d had young people come to her with horrific and heartbreaking tales of bullying, cruelty, sexual abuse. The first time a child had rolled up her sleeve to reveal the slanting scars of self-abuse criss-crossing her forearm, Jane had been shocked. By the time she left Ollie Granger, she’d become so inured to the sight that she feared she’d become desensitised.

  She ended up chatting with Thea for over an hour. When she left, Thea waved her off. She struck a lonely figure standing on the drive, a dog on either side of her.

  Jane wasn’t going straight home. She’d decided to have brunch at Veganbites. Knowing Frieda and Karun would be concerned about her following the burglary, she could put their minds at rest over some good food. If it wasn’t too busy in the café, Frieda might be able to sit down and chat for a little while. Before coming to Veganbites, Jane had always considered vegan food slightly unappealing. Karun’s cooking had caused her to reconsider, although she still had her doubts about whether all that soaking and boiling
of pulses made them any more digestible.

  She parked in a small housing estate near the Museum of Lincolnshire Life, a gem of a place that she’d visited many times, both with an army of schoolkids in tow and with her own children when they were young.

  Housed in a Victorian military barracks, the museum was a treasure trove, its displays crammed with objects showing the social, military and industrial history of the county from the mid-seventeen hundreds to the present day. There was a tank on display there that had seen battle at Passchendaele. Jane always pointed it out to her cohort of year eight students studying First World War poetry. The tank had been built by William Foster & Co, a local firm that produced agricultural machinery. After the war, the Royal Commission on Awards to Inventors credited Sir William Tritton, the managing director of ‘Fosters of Lincoln,’ with being a co-inventor of the tank.

  Jane had once won a tiebreaker at a local pub quiz night for knowing the security code name used for the tanks during their construction: ‘water tanks for Mesopotamia.’ Not a lot of people knew that. Not on that particular quiz night at the Dragon at any rate, when nearly everyone was in their cups.

  The café was half full, or half empty, depending on your disposition. Frieda and Karun really did need help for the busy times. Jane hoped they’d take Kylie Bright on. Their one-and-only employee was taking an order from a man Jane thought she recognised as one of the museum employees, the one who always complained about the kids from Ollie Granger’s being the worst-behaved of any of the schools to visit the museum. She sat as far from him as the modest proportions of the café’s interior would allow.

  “I’ll be with you in a moment,” the waitress called over with a toss of her abundantly thick and shiny hair. Jane wondered if she were vegan. She had once read that a vegan diet made your hair fall out and your nails crumble. It must have been a myth.

  “It’s okay, Francesca, I’ll serve this customer.” Frieda was half-in, half-out of the kitchen, holding a plate of noodles. The chalk board above the counter had announced that Pad Thai was one of the specials today.