Dishonour. Helen Black

a few spoonfuls for your poor old mother.’

      Sam ignored her.

      ‘Your poor old pregnant mother?’ She emptied a handful into a bowl. ‘A mother who worries about her son all day if he hasn’t a decent meal inside of him.’

      Sam poked the box. ‘That’s hardly a decent meal.’

      ‘Better than that.’ She nodded to the biscuits.

      Sam grabbed the bowl, the dry hoops rattling around the bottom, then yanked the milk from the fridge.

      ‘You, Sam Valentine, are an angel,’ Lilly laughed.

      ‘Whatever.’

      Something was going on with Sam. He was sullen and uncooperative. The child whom every school report described as ‘sunny’ had morphed into a shadow.

      When his face first darkened, Lilly had assumed it was the baby troubling him and had taken every opportunity to assure him that he wouldn’t be pushed out.

      ‘There’ll still be lots of time for you,’ she’d said.

      ‘There’s no time now,’ he’d moaned.

      Lilly had acknowledged the truth of this. She was always busy, pushed for time, trying to juggle everything. Poor Sam often got pushed to the sidelines.

      And yet something told her now that it wasn’t the arrival of a new baby brother or sister that was bothering him.

      ‘Is everything all right at school?’ she fished.

      Sam rolled his eyes theatrically.

      ‘If there were any problems, you know I’d go straight up there,’ she said.

      ‘Everything’s fine,’ he mumbled.

      She watched her son drag himself and his breakfast up the stairs. She certainly didn’t have the strength to follow up the ‘no eating in the bedrooms’ rule. No doubt she’d find the remnants stuck to the windowsill, the discarded bowl making a perfect white circle on the freshly glossed wood.

      After a fire in the cottage had left every room blackened by smoke, the insurance company had agreed to cover the cost of redecoration. For three weeks two handsome Polish men filled the cottage with their indecipherable chatter and the smell of undercoat.

      The place hadn’t looked this good in years. The walls were still uneven and the hall filled with bags for recycling, but everything seemed much less shabby. Although Lilly had been terrified by the fire she had to admit that there had been this one small silver lining.

      Penny had suggested she invite some of the Manor Park mums over for a coffee morning. ‘Show the place off,’ she said.

      Hmm. The lining wasn’t that bloody metallic.

      Lilly fingered her new kitchen curtains. They were gingham and wonderfully kitch. They made her smile.

      ‘I never took you for a woman so interested in soft furnishings.’

      Lilly turned to Jack, who had slipped into a chair.

      ‘Think of the hours you could while away in John Lewis picking some cushions to match,’ he said.

      Lilly threw a dishcloth at him. It landed on his lap with a wet thump.

      ‘And there was me going to make you a bacon butty,’ she said. ‘But you can whistle for it now.’

      Jack laughed and threw the cloth back. It hit the window behind her.

      ‘Fried pig,’ he patted his stomach, ‘I don’t think so.’

      Lilly had to admit that Jack’s current regime of running ten clicks a day had paid off and he was looking pretty buff, but his refusal to eat anything remotely bad for him was bloody irritating. She had always loved to cook and he had always loved to eat. A match made in heaven. Now all he would countenance was salad and soup.

      He grabbed a banana and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Get plenty of rest today.’

      Lilly waved him away. His healthy lifestyle was unattractive enough without his constant worrying.

      ‘I’m not ill, Jack.’

      ‘Don’t be so defensive, woman. I just thought that since you’ve no work to do you may as well put your feet up.’ He peered at them, spilling over the sides of her slippers. ‘They look like they need it.’

      She knew full well he was just trying to be nice but as she watched Jack peel the banana and take a bite, her annoyance rose.

      ‘I do have work to do,’ she said.

      ‘Is that right?’ Jack’s mouth was full of fruit.

      ‘The family in Luton I told you about want me to pursue matters with the police.’

      Jack swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple dancing. ‘I thought you said they just wanted a bit of advice.’

      ‘They did,’ said Lilly, ‘and now they need some more.’

      Before Jack could give his opinion Lilly picked up the phone and dialled.

      ‘I’ll be going then,’ he said, and left the room.

      When Lilly heard the front door slam she felt a pang of guilt. She’d been hard on Jack and she knew it. She was the one making difficulties, refusing to play happy families. He was making her brain hurt at the moment—but he meant well, so why was she railing against him? She considered going after him but on the fifth ring, DI Bell answered.

      ‘It’s Lilly Valentine here,’ she said, ‘the Khans’ solicitor.’

      ‘Ah,’ he said.

      ‘We agreed to review the situation in two days.’

      ‘I recall that’s what you said, not necessarily what we agreed.’

      Lilly gave a polite laugh. ‘So can I tell the family you’ll release the body today?’

      Bell paused. Lilly had been around enough barristers, judges and senior police officers to know that they liked to milk the moment. She knew that the best way to get what she wanted was to allow them their dramatic tension. But the baby was lying heavily on her pelvis and she desperately needed to pee.

      ‘DI Bell?’ she prodded.

      He gave a small humph, disappointed not to be allowed his moment in the sun. ‘I’m afraid not,’ he said.

      Lilly crossed her legs. ‘Oh, come on, Inspector, you’ve had enough time to make a decision.’

      ‘Yes I have.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘You’re absolutely right, I’ve come to a decision,’ he said.

      ‘Then you have to give this girl back to her poor family.’

      ‘I’m afraid I don’t.’

      Lilly shook her head. What was he going on about? He may be a pretentious jobsworth but he wouldn’t risk a legal action against him, would he? Unless…Lilly felt a heaviness settle on her. She gulped.

      ‘And the reason?’

      DI Bell cleared his throat. Lilly could almost see him straightening himself up to full height. ‘It is my considered opinion that Yasmeen Khan was murdered.’

      Jack’s desk was buried in paperwork: forms to be filled, statements to be drafted, information to be forwarded to the courts.

      He flicked one of the larger piles with his nail. Being a copper these days was like being a civil servant.

      He took a violent gulp of coffee and checked his email.

       To: Sergeant Jack McNally

       From : The desk of the Chief Superintendent