Embrace Me by Roberta Latow Page A

price range and went for a bottle of red Burgundy.
    Jethroe served fillet steak and paper thin slivers of potato roasted in olive oil and rosemary and crisped to a crunchy golden brown. Harry, seeing the food, realised how hungry he was. He watched Jethroe pour the wine into their glasses and began his meal at once. Joe sat quietly drinking his wine, the two men barely exchanging a word. Mostly they listened and observed. Once Harry had finished his meal he turned round on his bar stool and drank his wine, facing the crowd of drinkers. He watched Miss Marble rise unsteadily from her chair and walk away from the group she was sitting with. He was about to go to her aid and see her home when Jethroe placed a hand on his sleeve.
    ‘No, that would embarrass her. She drinks herself into this state every evening and we pretend not to notice. She becomes offended if we help her, so someone at her table waits until she’s through the door then follows her home. They watch for the light over the bakery to go on, see her pull the curtains to then return here. We take care of each other in this village.’
    Miss Marble passed by quite close to Harry. She acknowledged him with a dignified nod of her head but did not stop. It was as if she had gathered momentum and dare not. Once she was through the door he saw one of the men at her table rise and put his cap on his head, take a Barbour from the back of his chair and go after her.
    Shortly after Miss Marble’s exit, Harry went up to bed. He was a man who needed little sleep and hardly ever felt tired. However, this evening was an exception. He felt emotionally drained and weary to his soul. He made it to his bed and fell straight into a dreamless sleep. Upon awakening his first thought was of September. She was with him in spite of Olivia, they were already each other’s world. He bathed and dressed and called down to Jethroe to say he wanted a full English breakfast and a great deal of black coffee. He found his two assistants in the sitting-room already on the telephones. ‘I’ll be downstairshaving breakfast,’ he announced.
    Hannah laid a table for him. ‘I think you must be an exceptional detective, not your run-of-the-mill policeman.’
    ‘And what makes you say that?’ he asked her with a smile.
    ‘A box of small white orchids in the refrigerator for one thing,’ she told him as she handed one of the blossoms to him.
    ‘Ah, you remembered I like a fresh one every morning,’ he reminded her.
    ‘Do you mind if I ask you why you wear it. It’s a very romantic thing for a detective to do.’
    Harry pushed the blossom’s stem through the buttonhole of his jacket and secured it with a pin. ‘I have never thought it to be a romantic gesture more a thing of beauty to behold, a reminder, if you will, to be grateful for every day and night and all the splendours of the world.’
    ‘That’s so beautiful. What an unusual man you are.’
    ‘Measured against whom?’ he asked being amused by Hannah and her questions.
    ‘I’ll go and get your breakfast,’ she said looking flushed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
    She had just returned from the kitchen with Harry’s breakfast when Jethroe entered the pub with his Dalmatians. He greeted Harry in a rather offhand manner, let the dogs off the leash and watched them scamper, slipping and sliding, across the worn stone floor towards the kitchen. They too wanted their breakfast.
    ‘Hannah, mind the pub. I’m going into Oxford. Make sure you pick up the bread from Miss Marble.’ And Jethroe was out of the door before she had a chance to answer him.
    The barmaid placed a hot plate of bacon, eggs, sausage and fried bread in front of Harry. He noticed when she bent forward to pour steaming black coffee into his cup that there were black and blue fingermarks to either side of her neck and that her hand was trembling. He steadied it by placing his own over it. She looked into his eyes and tears were brimming in hers. Harry