Suddenly Marcie seemed energised by her newfound assertive attitude, impressing Ben with her rapid switch to the immediate practicalities. After a soft yet quick kiss, each with their hands lingering at the other’s jawline, she wriggled out of his arms and slid to the end of the bed. Ben watched her naked back and buttocks with a tender warmth as she moved, then shimmied away out of the bedroom, blowing him a cheekily flirtatious kiss over her shoulder from the doorway.

Once left alone, Ben exhaled in satisfaction, even as he was aware of a somewhat tender throbbing from his tired and sticky penis. But he paused only briefly before finding the motivation to follow Marcie’s example, pushing himself from the bed and surveying the mess they’d made. He decided to make a start on tidying up, even though he was ravenously hungry and ready for a wee and shower himself. Working quickly, still nude and hoping no one could see him through the drapes of the opened corner of the curtain, he moved around the bed to strip it, then bundled up the dirty sheets with Marcie’s soiled nightshirt, before making it up again with the recently washed fresh sheets. Of course he saw her collection of toys again as he pulled the linen from the drawer, but did not linger over them this time, leaving the one she’d just used on the bedside table for her to clean up for herself, worried that he might damage it if he tried washing it himself.

He took the dirty white bundle straight through to the washing machine, passing by the windows a little anxiously in case their neighbours were up and in the backyard, as Marcie had already pulled the blinds open, but the coast was clear. As he was squatting before the machine wondering if there would be time to run its cycle before they left, he heard Marcie stop the shower. Going through, he caught her as she stepped from the bathtub, reaching for her towel, her wet hair plastered to her neck and shoulders, the curves of her hips and her swaying breasts glistening with beaded droplets of water.

“Hmm, that felt good,” she said in a luxuriant way as she saw him. As she recovered her glasses to look at him properly with a happy smile, she explained, “I feel clean and fresh again, but it was a delicious pleasure feeling the hot water beating against my skin in my cosy post-orgasmic bubble! I’m still all tingly and sensitive, thanks to games you let me play with you.”

“Well, I had fun too,” Ben replied, feeling self-conscious of his lame response more than his presumption to sit on the toilet and pass water whilst Marcie rubbed her dripping hair and towelled herself down.

“I think it’s different for boys,” Marcie mused, “I’ve heard you feel an intense build-up and a kind of mad urgency, like you’ve really got to let it out, whatever the consequences, but then once it’s gone your minds move on immediately, to planning your day or thinking about what’s for tea maybe. For girls it maybe has a bigger impact that lasts longer, but maybe also we know it’s a more elusive thing to chase down too, so we don’t feel it’s such an imperative must-have to make our climax.”

“Aye, that sounds fair, maybe,” Ben cautiously agreed, thinking of the rare times that other girlfriends had been so open about how sex was for them, as well as the experience of his own climaxes.

“But you still need to give it a good hose down afterwards, I’m thinking. Are you getting in this shower or what?” she teased.

Ben laughed lightly at her return to practicalities as they swapped places. Then, as Marcie made to leave the bathroom, wrapped in towels around her torso and hair as usual, he remembered the bedsheets. He told her that he’d already put them in the machine, but not started it, as he wasn’t sure how long they’d be. Marcie seemed genuinely grateful, then said they’d probably have time to get it on and out, but she’d check what the weather was going to do while they were on their day out on the road. She thought to get last night’s dirty towel out of the laundry basket too, then she left him on his own as he did indeed make a thorough job of washing himself clean, paying special attention to his sensitive glans beneath his foreskin. He noticed the water pressure lurch as the washing machine came on, but he was glad that the shower’s temperature didn’t swing wildly with it.

Once he’d finished, he dried himself down and applied his deodorant, then wrapped himself in a towel around his waist, before going to get clean clothes from the spare room. As he came out of the bathroom he saw that Marcie was already preparing their breakfast, moving busily around the kitchen, still with her hair in a towel-turban, but already dressed in what were unfamiliar clothes to Ben. He saw that her embroidered raw cotton blouse was baggier and somehow more rustic than those she wore for her work, but it seemed to complement her layered skirt, which Ben guessed might be called ethnic, with its predominately moss green patterns.

He tried to find a suitably genuine compliment for her tasteful and pretty outfit as he passed her, brushing his hand over her waist. She responded with a twinkling smile and a peck on his lips, saying that she was glad he liked it, and also thanked him again for tidying the bedroom. She said that it looked lovely, but that she’d opened the window for some fresh air too, then she confirmed that he wanted a coffee with his toast. Ben couldn’t help noticing that she’d found her toy and presumably washed it in the kitchen sink, as it was standing incongruously on the draining board alongside the carabiner that he’d saved from the ruins of his old flat.

The sight of that spontaneously triggered a vivid flash of recollection though, as wider memories of his intense dream swiftly came back to him, gathered around the image. He mentioned it to Marcie as he followed her into the living room, and she said that he must tell her more once they’d sat down for their breakfast. She admitted with a teasing shyness that she’d also hoped to probe him for more details about Ashleigh.

As Ben found fresh clothes and got dressed, he realised that even though he’d never told another soul about what had happened with that first guilty intimate liaison of his, he felt very much at ease at the thought of telling the whole story with Marcie now. Of course he knew with absolute certainty that he could trust her with his secret, but his instincts also told him that it was unimaginable that Marcie would become judgmental or jealous. Instead he anticipated that sharing his memories and feelings of what had happened would only bring him and Marcie closer. He imagined that she would perhaps by parts be both sympathetic and happy for his teenage self. Yet he also felt that in some way it would be a gift that he could offer to her, as something that might satisfy her apparent appetite for sexually charged fantasies and stories.

So once he’d returned to the living room table in a clean shirt and jeans, and thanked Marcie again for getting their breakfast ready, he asked bluntly if she wanted to hear about the dream or Ashleigh’s story first. She suggested the dream, and Ben described as well as he could remember how he’d been trapped in a piece of gym equipment and fearful of an unseen fire. Marcie was sympathetic and remarked it was no surprise that his mind was replaying such distressing recent experiences, perhaps as he struggled to make sense of them at some deep level, but that he must say if they were still strong and frightening in a few weeks’ times.

But Ben was more interested in describing the stranger and more intimate details that he could recall. He told her that she’d been in his dream, but that she’d had thicker and longer hair, like a horse’s mane. Marcie seemed a little put out by that, saying that she was sorry if he’d like her with even more hair, but hers was at the limit of manageability already. He rushed to reassure her that he didn’t think that had been his fantasy at all, just that it implied their discussion of a connection to animal spirits had really stuck. Then he admitted that in his dream her hair had been covering her naked body, but also that his mum had been in the dream too, reminding him that he’d know Marcie as a girl.

Marcie laughed aloud, seemingly in shocked surprise at this, then covered her mouth and apologised, “Oh, I’m sorry Ben, but wouldn’t a psychoanalyst just love to have a client come out with something like that? And I’m very grateful that you shared it with me. It shows huge honesty and trust, and I was very mean to laugh.”

“No,” Ben reassured her, “It is funny, isn’t it? I guess I do feel a bit sad that my mum’s gone, especially now, because it means she didn’t get to know you. But it is like some bad seventies’ arts film, isn’t it? The trapped and bound man sees a vision of his true love, blessed by his own mother, who’s acting as their matchmaker, but he must trade one for the other, never seeing his mother again, but now free to explore a new, and sexually adventurous life, with this wild spirited nymph.”

Marcie was smiling broadly again, but Ben thought there may have been just the hint of tears welling in her eyes. He was surprised to feel his eyes stinging as well at the strength of emotion that this daft dream had inspired. Yet Marcie made her sympathy and warm kindness clear as she reached to clutch his hand, asking seriously, “So I did help you to escape your trap in the dream?”

“Well, kind of. That’s the thing, the most powerful part, in a way. You undid a carabiner that was tying me down, looped into a harness around my waist, you know, so it was near Roddie, and I think I found that a bit erotic. But then it was like you were swimming away, and I couldn’t follow. That was the worst, that having just found you, I thought I’d lose you again.”

“Oh Ben, come here,” Marcie beckoned, and once again Ben was on his knees before her chair, holding onto her in a reassuring embrace. She kissed his forehead then crooned in his ear, “I’m not going anywhere without you. Maybe it will take a while for that to sink in for both of us, so that we can overcome our anxieties that the bubble might burst. But given everything that we’ve been talking about, all that we’ve shared and all that we’ve said we’re feeling for each other, I really believe this is it, that we both know we’ve found our other half. And like those animals - swans, wolves, beavers, even seahorses - we know we’re making each other into a mate for life.”

“Aye, I really believe that too,” said Ben, giving Marcie a squeeze and then just a peck on the lips before making an apologetic face and getting back into his own chair. He went on, “And I knew that, when I woke myself up with a jolt, coming out of the dream with relief. You were there beside me, in bed, the real you. I felt such warmth and comfort, just sensing your presence.”

“That’s good,” Marcie affirmed, “But I’m wondering, are you planning to announce any of this to your dad? It might be a bit of a heavy thing to admit to.”

“I don’t know,” Ben confessed, “I guess I’ll play it by ear. He won’t doubt us, or put pressure on us. He’ll just accept what we say, whatever that is, I’m pretty sure. But I guess he might suspect something already. He’s not met any of my girlfriends since Phoebe, and he knows I’m more grown up now.”

“But he knew Ashleigh too, right?” Marcie asked cheekily as Ben helped himself to more toast. He was glad in a way that she’d brought that up. He’d suddenly felt quite serious about what he might tell his dad, but he knew that telling Marcie more of the story about Ash would be one of their light-hearted games.

“Aye, I said her parents were old friends of our parents, right? But she was never my girlfriend, it was just a one-off,” Ben reminded her, unsure of what he’d said himself now in his distracted state earlier that morning.

“Did any of them find out what had happened between you two, or suspect anything, do you think? Holy Mary, did your brother find out when he got back from his Navy tour?” Marcie asked with rising fascination, admitting, “That must have been awful for both of you. But if he never did and they’re still together that’s almost worse. I might find it really difficult looking her in the eye if she’s like his wife now or something.”

“No, no one ever knew, as far as I know, and it didn’t last, her relationship with Adam,” Ben said honestly. He went on to explain to Marcie what little he knew, “She only came around once or twice after that, I think, to the farm, as his girlfriend I mean, later that summer. She ignored me, deliberately I think, like she wouldn’t look me in the eye, as you say. Then they’d broken up. Maybe he found out something, about her infidelity while he’d been away, or suspected her, but if so, he didn’t link her to me. There were never any scenes, or awkward suspicious moods, with me and him. I figure if she went with me, there must have been others.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Marcie cautioned him, “Girls who get a bad reputation often aren’t as promiscuous as the boys would like to believe, or the bitchy girls in their peer group might insinuate.”

“I honestly don’t know, she was in a different league back then,” Ben admitted, “Perhaps they just decided to quit, maybe because they’d realised they weren’t actually that into each other. Or maybe she told him straight, not that she’d been unfaithful, but that he couldn’t expect her to just wait, at home on her own, when he went away. Especially at that age, eighteen, nineteen, when I think you want to have fun, you know, expressing your fully ripened sexuality.”

“‘Ripened,’ that’s a good word, coming from a country boy. But it’s not as if it’s over in one season, right? I think we’re still pretty fresh and juicy in our sexuality,” Marcie remarked with a sly smile as she poured the last of the coffee. Ben could tell from the twinkle in her eye that she was having cheeky thoughts as she went on, “It sounds like your budding cherry was already ripe and ready to eat too, at fourteen, wasn’t it? Would you be able to show me where this top secret milestone occurred, if we could pop out after lunch this afternoon on our own?”

“No, my parents sold the barn, before my mother died, to a developer. It’s a house now, with a family in it, I think,” Ben explained. He’d already guessed what might be on Marcie’s mind though, so he tentatively suggested, “We could still go for a walk though, just the two of us. I could show you around a bit, maybe find where I made dens as a boy, sometimes with my brother. Maybe we could even find our own private nook, you know, to make our own milestone, to play our games with nature’s forces, like you said, to play with Roddie and Vixen, under the open sky, in wild nature.”

“I’d like that a lot,” Marcie said, beaming at him, “I’ll make sure I’m carrying a condom ready to go, just like Ashleigh.” But then she frowned and reached to clutch his hand as her serious side seem to come forwards again, saying, “Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t mind me teasing and probing about your lost loves, do you? You know I’m only doing it because I’m nosy. I’m a hundred percent confident in us you know, that your book is checked out in my name now, right? Also, you do know that there’s nothing to feel guilty or ashamed about in what happened with Ashleigh, don’t you? It sounds like she was a tease, and you went along with it, but then she was mean to you when she said she’d make accusations if you broke your secret. It was her that was in the wrong, you know. You could even call what she did abuse, given the difference in your ages.”

“Aye, thank you,” Ben confirmed, “I did feel guilty and anxious straight afterwards, but I felt good about it too. I never thought I was a victim, just lucky, even if I couldn’t tell anyone. It gave me a bit more confidence, I guess, when I started trying to find a proper girlfriend, someone my age.”

“Like your friend who kept horses?” Marcie prompted, “You could share your newfound skills in the ways of a woman’s body with her?”

“Aye, something like that,” Ben admitted, “Jamie and I did take it that far, in the end. But she moved on soon afterwards, when she went to sixth form. I guess she wanted a boyfriend who could do A-Levels with her.”

“Aw, well that was her loss,” Marcie said with sympathy, adding, “You know I see things in you, in your quick and sparky mind, that go rather beyond an ability to answer questions in an exam room, don’t you?”

“Aye, I see that,” Ben reassured her sincerely, “It was pretty much the first thing we sorted, wasn’t it? That we could make a go of it, even though you’re cleverer than me.” He saw Marcie was about to interrupt, to downplay her own intellect he was sure, but he held up his hand and stopped her by going on, “No, it’s true. You’re an intellectual, I’m not, and yet we’re getting on just fine, clearly. But I like your idea of writing something, to write about my first time with Ash, and to share it with you. Then maybe you could share what you’ve written, about your fantasies, if you’ll let me read them.”

“Oh Ben, that does sound like an interesting new game, if you’re up for it,” Marcie admitted, “I’d be very embarrassed about showing you my writing though, I’m sure, but it feels as if it would be exciting to feel that and still share it anyway. I know you’ll be polite and open-minded, and you can count on me being kind and non-judgemental too, if you want my help with your English I mean, as well as about what you write. But come on, we’d better get a move on. The washing will be nearly finished and we need to get ready to leave.”

Her words stirred them both into action, as Ben started tidying the breakfast things away and Marcie went to finish sorting her hair. She came back through to the kitchen a few minutes later with her hair pinned up glamorously in large sparkling clips, and offered to help with the washing up, but Ben said he was fine as things could be left to drain, so she went on to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Ben joined her as she was finishing, when she gave him a little minty kiss before excusing herself to go and put some makeup on. He heard the washing machine finish while she was still in the bedroom, so once he’d finished his teeth and used his brown inhaler, he got the pegs from the hallway cupboard, unloaded the machine, unlocked the back door and, slipping his sandals on, hung the laundry out. He felt a warm sense of belonging as he worked. Though he guessed it might always seem like Marcie’s flat first and foremost, the confidence that he felt in the everyday mechanics of domestic life made him feel very much as if he were making it his home too.

Locking the back door and slipping off his sandals again, he went through to the bedroom to find Marcie just finishing her makeup. The air was fresh from the open windows yet also heavy with the delicious scent of her woody citrus perfume. Ben inhaled deeply as he came behind her, sitting on the bed and then remarking on how much he loved her scent. She gave him a smile in the mirror as she mentioned that it had bergamot in, and she remembered seeing bergamot oranges growing on Malta’s trees.

He had also noticed the way that her russet lipstick emphasised the beguiling width of her mouth, and the way that her eyeliner and mascara exaggerated her long lashes. As she twisted her head to each side, as if trying to catch herself in profile in the mirror, he said truthfully that she looked lovely.

Marcie gave him a saucy pout in her reflection, then warned him that there would be no kissing now until they’d got to Lincolnshire and at least said hello to his dad. Then she turned and rose to her feet to ask his opinion as to whether she should wear a thick black belt that she’d picked up over her loose blouse to complete the outfit. As Ben looked down, he saw she was already laced into her long soft leather boots that she’d teased him about so much, but then used so sexily with him. Looking back up into her dazzlingly pretty brown eyes with their long lashes, beneath her hopefully arched eyebrows, he said she already looked amazing and that he thought there was no need for it.

Accepting his judgment, she cast the belt aside, then picked up an outdoor jacket and the small black handbag that she’d taken on their night out in town, obviously already packed with the few things she thought she needed. Ben wondered if she’d remembered the condom that they’d discussed, he but didn’t want to pry or give the impression that he expected to use it, just in case she’d had second thoughts, so he didn’t say anything.

Instead he confirmed their plan for the journey, down the A1 then turning east for the sequence of short and easy motorway changes toward Scunthorpe. He suggested they could split the driving, and assured her it was a simple route, except for the last fifteen minutes, but if she took them out of Newcastle, they could swap over well before that. Marcie agreed, then suggested that they the box of The Lord of the Rings story CDs to listen to on the way, leading him through to the living room to collect it, with Ben gathering his own jacket and his other things as they went. As he put his shoes on ready to leave, he confirmed his mantra of wallet, keys, phone and puffer with her, then they set out.

The morning seemed fresh as they walked to the car, with patches of blue sky breaking through. Once they’d got into their seats, Ben started the first CD under Marcie’s direction, before they moved off. As she drove them through Jesmond, heading for the dual-carriageway and the bridge over the Tyne, she shot him a few anxious glances. Ben guessed what she was thinking as the recorded drama played, and set her mind at rest, saying it wasn’t what he’d usually listen to, but he’d still like to give it a go, whilst she admitted it wasn’t quite what she was expecting either. They carried on listening to the staged radio play as Marcie found her way through Gateshead and onto the national artery of the A1.

They’d been on the A1 for a while and just moved onto the story’s second instalment when Ben’s phones rang. Marcie paused the CD as he fished it out of his jacket and answered. He was surprised to hear Detective Simon’s voice, “Ben, I’m glad I caught you. Is this a good time? You’re not taking a call while you’re driving are you?”

He reassured him that he was not, explaining that he was with Marcie, and she was driving them to Lincolnshire to see his dad. He thought to ask, feeling anxious, if that was okay, or if the detective needed him in Newcastle. “No, don’t worry, it’s not anything like that,” Simon reassured him, before launching into an explanation, “I wanted you to know we’ve made good progress on our investigation into your incident, though I’m afraid I can’t share all the details with you. I can tell you that we did get a call to Crimestoppers, and we picked up two lads this morning, a couple of known scallywags. They’re in the cells now, having a bit of time to think about things. They didn’t exactly say, ‘It’s a fair cop, guv, you’ve got us banged to rights.’ But we found clothes that reeked of diesel at both their homes, and we’ve got our informer’s statement about their drunken boasts. They could be looking at a very long time inside, and that will be slowly sinking into even their muddled heads.”

“So is that it then, they’re the ones who did it? Just local lads who got carried away, with what was like a bit of vandalism?” Ben asked, after he’d very briefly passed on the news to Marcie that Simon had got someone.

“I’ll level with you, Ben, I don’t think so,” Simon went on explaining, “They’ve got form for vandalism, yes, as well as petty theft, common assault, obstructing the police in the execution of their duty and so on. But they’re just a pair of chumps at the end of the day. I’m working on the idea that someone set them up for it, one of those parties who we discussed who might have wished you ill. It probably wouldn’t take more than a couple of rounds in the pub and a couple of hundred to encourage them to do something really stupid. But I’ll let you in on a bit of tradecraft, Ben. Now we’ve got them in the cells, for twenty-four hours if we need it, we can impress upon them the importance of letting us know who set them up for it. With two of them, being kept separate, they’ll be frantic about their mate spilling the beans before them. Once they really believe just how heavy the sentences are that they’re facing, and they begin to take us seriously about how much that could be commuted for telling us who set them up for it… Well, let’s say I think I might be organising a morning call on someone else regarding this quite soon.”

“That’s good news, I guess,” Ben said, adding, “I really appreciate this. Thank you, on a Sunday too.”

“No problem, Ben,” Simon reassured him over the tinny connection, “It’s good to keep the pace up while it’s interesting, before memories fade and things cool off. Speaking of which, I also had a few words with Marcie’s professor yesterday. He’s certainly a piece of work, isn’t he?”

“How do you mean?” Ben asked.

“Well, he was certainly not pleased to see me and Constable Walker on his gentile doorstep, I can tell you. He started blustering about invasion of privacy and official complaints. He was keen to say, quite loudly, that he knew the chief constable personally. He piped right down when I mentioned my own hocus-pocus about investigatory powers, aggravated criminal damage and arson with intent to endanger life. He couldn’t be helpful enough then, though he was absolutely desperate to avoid being taken down to the station, ‘Via the back-door,’ as he put it. He took us to his study to write up a statement with Constable Walker as a witness right then. He said he has seen you just twice, and only briefly. He admitted that he’d not taken kindly to you, that you were not his sort, but he swore he had only the vaguest idea where your boxes had come from. He even offered to show us them straight away, still in his office exactly where you’d dumped them I imagine. My guess is that he was in a right palaver already, clueless about what to do with this accumulated evidence of a prolonged extra-marital affair. He must have been struggling to use that great brain to work out how to bring armfuls of personal effects back into the family home, as if out of thin air, and pass it off with some story about working late in the office.”

“Well, thanks again,” Ben responded, unsure of what to make of these insights into the professor’s behaviour, or what the detective might have meant by sharing them, “I hope Richard won’t put you to any bother, with a complaint.”

Simon laughed, “It would be an honour and a privilege to discuss this with the CC. It always feels as if I’m doing something right when feathers are a bit ruffled. Anyway, I hope that I’ll be calling you again soon with another update early next week, but if that’s all for now, I’ll let you two young lovebirds get on with your day.”

Ben thanked him again, checked there was nothing that Simon needed of him, then he rung off. Marcie was extremely keen to hear exactly what Simon had said, taking the opportunity to pull into a minor service station so that she could concentrate properly. She was intrigued that the detective had shared his game plan for the suspects with Ben. She speculated that he might have been fishing for ideas from Ben himself, as if the idea of someone approaching the lads to do their dirty work might jog something in his memory.

She was even more interested in Ben’s relayed description of Richard’s reactions to the detective’s visit. At first she seemed embarrassed, as if his rude behaviour were her fault in some way. But then it seemed she took a kind of shocked delight in what Ben passed on, as if she was quite warming to the idea of Richard finding himself squirming in his own awkward embarrassment.

“I didn’t know he was in with the chief constable, but complaining about something as serious as this could really backfire on him,” she said. “I’ve glimpsed the small world at the top, of judges, councillors, heavyweight university patrons, the great and the good of Tyneside. They’re as bad for gossip as a bunch of fish-wives. If the wrong word gets around about the incumbent professor of criminal law, he won’t even be able to show his face in public.”

“But why did Simon tell us all that? Do you really think he might be behind this?” Ben asked, his mind reeling a little at the idea of the jealous Richard risking so much to get back at him.

“I honestly don’t know,” Marcie admitted, “Last week I’d have thought it utterly unimaginable. But now, well, I guess I defer to the DCI’s experience and judgment. He hinted that Richard was still on his list of suspects, didn’t he? If the bookies were taking bets, I wouldn’t put money on him though. It seems very unlikely that after making his career studying criminal justice, he’d put himself on the receiving end of it. I wonder if Simon has actually already decided that Richard is innocent, but he took a personal dislike to him. So he even though he knows the professor is never going to end up in court, he still wanted us to know that he’s going to be squirming and suffering for his arrogant, selfish and bullying behaviour.”

“Aye, maybe. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Ben concluded, then another thought occurred to him, “Simon didn’t mention Jo. Do you think he visited her too, for his investigation? Maybe he didn’t say because he’s got something on her. You don’t think those two lads in the cells are Jack and Patch do you, that she set them up for it, after we all met on Thursday? That would be awful, if she got them into trouble.”

“No, that doesn’t sound very likely at all,” Marcie said thoughtfully, “I really can’t imagine her doing something so drastic. Now, I hate to question your past good taste, but you can guess that I don’t have a very high opinion of her. I think I once called her a bitch, and she didn’t do much to change my mind when I briefly met her. But to wilfully engineer a conspiracy to burn down your workshop and home, well, that would make her more like a psychopath, and I don’t think she’s that.”

“Aye well, either way, there’s nothing for us to do about it all now, except to keep the details of what Simon’s told us to ourselves, like before, and keep out of the way of Richard’s way I guess, and Jo’s too maybe.”

Marcie strongly agreed to that, and then agreed to Ben’s suggestion to take over the driving too. Though the driving position and controls seemed a little small to him once they’d swapped seats, Ben felt comfortable and confident as he set off, even as he mentally resolved to take it calmly and steadily. They’d restarted the story CD, but hadn’t been going long when Ben’s phone rang again. He wondered if it could be the detective again with something that he’d forgotten to say, as Marcie picked up the call.

Ben could only hear one side of the conversation, but Marcie made it clear who it was as she spoke, “Oh, hello Mister Osborne. Okay. Yes, we’re just on our way now Dave, still north of York, I think. Ben’s driving. It’s been no trouble at all, really, a pleasure. I was very glad that I was there to help. Yes, he’s doing just fine, but I guess we’ll have to wait to hear what the consultant says, and his work too. Okay. No, he didn’t say his aunt had a special friend, but I understand. Yes, it will be lovely to meet all three of them. Just for a cup of tea then, as you say, before we head off and leave you in peace. I’m looking forward to it too, Dave. I’m very keen to see the farm. That’s very kind of you. Well, thanks for letting us know. Bye-bye then, bye.”

“Thanks for taking that. Was it okay, to talk to him I mean?” Ben asked apprehensively, feeling a little bit awkward himself on Marcie’s behalf.

“No problem at all!” Marcie said brightly, “It was a bit of a surprise when I’d expected it to be DCI Bailey, but I think your dad was a bit surprised too, hearing my voice on your number. He was very sweet though, and it’s good that we’ve sort of broken the ice now too.”

“It sounded like he’d dropped some surprise visitors on us though,” Ben prompted.

“Yes, but it’s okay. I’ll cope, I’m a big girl,” Marcie reassured him. Whilst he concentrated on the road, Ben could hear the humour in her voice, “I bet the phone lines of Lincolnshire have been hot with all your news, especially regarding a mysterious new friend with a strange foreign-sounding name. So I’ll be meeting your grandmother, your aunt and her friend too this afternoon, it seems. I can’t begrudge them the chance to satisfy their curiosity, seizing the chance to get a look at their little Benjamin’s latest prize.”

“I’m sorry. And that’s not how I see it. It’s not like I’m showing off a trophy,” Ben said meekly.

“I’m teasing!” Marcie laughed happily, “I am a bit anxious about putting on a show for them all, but it’s nice in a way too. It might mean that I’ll get to know you a bit better too, through them. Like with your aunt. You didn’t say she was a tribadist.”

“A what?” Ben asked in confusion.

“Sorry. That was very rude of me,” Marcie admitted, “You didn’t say she was gay. It maybe explains your own apparent lack of homophobia.”

“Aye, I guess I didn’t mention it,” Ben confessed, “She’s been with Ginny forever. It was like they were both my aunts, when I was growing up. They’re just two countryside women though, both schoolteachers, who always do things together, except they work at different schools. It’s not like they’re affectionate in public, or as if either of them are militant dykes - if I can use a rude word in private too. Auntie Grace can be a bit sharp and grumpy, but Ginny’s is always chatty and positive.”

“And your grandmother, would you say she’s easy to get on with?” Marcie asked, her tone perhaps revealing her anxiety a little now.

“Well, she can be a bit sharp too,” Ben admitted, “But I guess life’s taken its toll with her, with her arthritis and all that. She’s been a widow since I was a little boy, and maybe seeing my dad lose my mum was hard on her too. Maybe she’s a bit like your Nanna, fading a bit, thinking as much of those who’ve gone, you know, rather than the future. She’s a churchgoer too.”

“Well, I’m sure it will be very interesting to meet them all,” Marcie said positively, then explained, “Your dad said they’re not coming until later anyway, just for afternoon tea, so you’ll have time to fill him in with all the details of your news, and you and I might get a bit of time to explore your boyhood haunts on our own before they arrive.”

Ben said that sounded nice, then they agreed to carry on with the story of The Lord of the Rings, as Ben was beginning to get into it. He thought it made the journey pass seem to pass more quickly too, even though it was still over an hour before he pulled off the road to bump up the familiar driveway to his childhood home.