Banks laughed. “I feel the same way about ‘Nessun Dorma.’”

“Anyway, Rob seemed solid, dependable, more sure of himself and what he believed in.”

“Was he?”

“Yes. We went out until I went to university in Exeter. Then he turned up there a year or so later as a DC. He introduced me to some of his friends and we sort of started going out again. I suppose they found me a bit weird. After all, I didn’t throw out the baby with the bathwater. I still had a lot of my father’s values, and I was into yoga and meditation even back then, when nobody else was. I didn’t really fit in anywhere. I don’t know why, but being a detective sounded exciting. Different. When you get right down to it, most jobs are so bloody boring. I’d thought of becoming a teacher, but I changed my mind and joined the force. It was a bit impulsive, I’ll admit.”

Banks wanted to ask her why she was in a dead-end place like Harkside, but he sensed that this wasn’t the moment. At least he could ask a leading question and see if she was willing to be led. “How has it worked out?”

“It’s tough for a woman. But things are what you make them. I’m a feminist, but I’m the sort who just likes to get on with it rather than whine about what’s wrong with the system. Maybe that comes from my dad. He goes his own way. Anyway, you know all about what it’s like, about how unexciting it is most of the time. And how bloody boring it can be.”

“True enough. What happened to Rob?”

“He got killed during an armed drugs bust three years later. Poor sod. His gun jammed.”

“I’m sorry.”

Annie put her hand to her forehead, then fanned it in front of her face. “Ooh, I’m hot. Listen to me go on. I haven’t talked to anyone like this in ages.”

“I wouldn’t mind a cigarette. Would you like to stand outside with me? Cool down a bit, if it’s possible?”

“Okay.”

They went out into the backyard. It was a warm night, though there were signs of a breeze beginning to stir. Annie stood beside him. He could smell her scent. He lit up, inhaled and blew out a plume of dark smoke.

“It was like drawing teeth,” he said, “getting you to talk about your personal life.”

“I’m not used to it. I’m like you in a lot of ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, how much have you told me about your past?”

“What do you want to know?”

“That’s not what I mean. You just wouldn’t think of telling people about yourself, of letting someone in, would you? It’s not in your nature. You’re a loner, like me. I don’t just mean now, because you’re…”

“Because my wife left me?”

“Right. Not just because you’re physically alone or because you’re living alone. I mean in your nature, deep inside. Even when you were married. I think you’ve got a lonely, isolated nature. It colors the way you see the world, the detachment you feel. I’m not explaining it very well, am I? I think I’m the same. I can be alone in a crowded room. I’ll bet you can be, too.”

Banks thought about what Annie had said as he smoked. It was what Sandra had said when they had their final argument, what he had refused to admit was the truth. There was something in him that always stood apart, that she couldn’t reach and he wouldn’t offer. It wasn’t just the Job and its demands, but something deeper: a central core of loneliness. He had been like that even as a child. An observer. Always on the outside, even when he played with others. As Annie said, it was a part of his nature, and he didn’t think he could change it if he tried.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Funny thing, though. I always thought I was a simple family man.”

“And now?”

“And now I’m not so sure I ever was.”

A cat meowed in a nearby yard. Down the street, a door opened and closed and someone turned a television on. Emmylou drifted through the open kitchen window singing about losing this sweet old world. Banks dropped his cigarette and trod on the red ember. Suddenly a chill gust of wind rustled the distant trees and passed through the yard. Annie shivered. Banks put his arm around her and moved her gently toward him. She let her head rest on his shoulder.

“Oh dear,” she said. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Why?”

Annie paused. Banks could feel her warm shoulder under the thin T-shirt, the ridge of her bra strap.

“Well, we’ve both probably had too much to drink.”

“If it’s the rank thing that’s bothering you-”

“No. No. It’s not that. I don’t give a damn about that, to be honest. As I said, the Job’s not my be-all-and-end-all. I still have a bit of the bohemian left in me. No, it’s just that… I’ve had some bad experiences with men. I’ve been… I mean I haven’t been… Oh, shit, why is this so difficult?” She rubbed her forehead. Banks kept silent. Annie sighed deeply. “I’ve been celibate,” she said. “By choice. For nearly two years now.”

“I don’t want to pressure you,” Banks said.

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let you. I make my own choices.”

“I’ll never find my way out of this labyrinth alone.”

“I’d lead you,” Annie said, facing him and smiling. “If I really wanted you to go. But somehow I doubt whether you’re in a fit state to drive. It’s probably my duty to arrest you. Crime intervention.” She paused and frowned, then rested her hand lightly on his chest. His heart beat more loudly. Surely she could hear it, feel it? “There are a lot of reasons for not taking this any further, you know,” she went on. “I’ve heard you’re a bad lot.”

“Not true.”

“A womanizer.”

“Not true.”

They looked at one another for a few moments. Annie bit her lip, shivered again and said, “Oh, hell.”

Banks wished he hadn’t just smoked a cigarette. He leaned forward and kissed her. Her lips yielded and her body molded itself to his. Then he forgot all about cigarettes.

Matthew and Gloria decided to have their party on Christmas Eve, but first we all went ice-skating on Harksmere Reservoir. Already there were lots of people around and fires burned in braziers set up along the edges of the ice. It was dark and there was something hypnotic about the mix of ice and fire in the twilight – to me there was, at any rate – so I was skating in a sort of trance. If I shut my eyes I could see the flames dancing behind my eyelids and feel flashes of warmth as I sped by the bank.

People started drifting back to Bridge Cottage at about seven o’clock, then the other guests started to arrive, including more airmen from the base, some with their girlfriends. Alice’s Eric was away in North Africa by then, but Betty’s William hadn’t passed his medical, which didn’t surprise me at all, so they would only let him in the Home Guard.

Michael Stanhope came dressed in his usual artistic “costume,” including hat and cane, but he did bring two bottles of gin and some wine, which made him most welcome indeed. He must have had a cellarful of drink. Alcohol wasn’t always easy to come by then, most of the distilleries having shut down, and it was very expensive if you could get it. I could picture Michael Stanhope, knowing a war was coming, hoarding his private stock away, bottle by bottle. I hoped he wouldn’t run out.

Matthew and Gloria had decorated the tiny front room as best they could, with balloons, concertina streamers and fairy lights over the mantelpiece. The whole place had a warm, cozy feel with the blackout curtains up, especially when you thought of the icicles and the frozen puddles outside. There was also plenty of mistletoe and a fake Christmas tree dressed in lights and tinsel.

The only cigarettes we had in stock were Pasha, and Gloria said they tasted like sweepings from the factory floor, which they probably were. The Canadians had some Players, though, so the room soon seemed to fill with smoke. Mark and Stephen had also contributed a bottle of Canadian Club whiskey.