The Half Truth(31)

John’s hands cupped her face and he moved back from their embrace. He sat back in his seat. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t plan that. It just sort of happened.’

‘What are you apologising for?’ said Tina, not moving from the edge of seat. ‘I think it was me who kissed you. Perhaps it should be me apologising.’

John put his hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead through the windscreen and into the blackness of the night. As if deciding on something, he let out a long sigh and then turned the key in the ignition, sparking the engine into life.

Tina settled back in her seat, pulling the safety belt across her and clicking it into place. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking. She knew she wasn’t sorry at all. In fact, she had enjoyed kissing him and, truth be told, she would be quite happy to continue.

‘We’ve done nothing wrong,’ she said, as they pulled up outside her house. ‘But if you’re not comfortable with it, that’s fine, you simply have to say and I won’t make any more of a fool of myself than I already have.’

‘You haven’t made a fool of yourself at all,’ said John. He opened his door and got out of the car. Tina tracked him as he walked around the front of the car and come round to her side, opening the passenger door. He held out his hand and Tina accepted the gesture. Neither let go as they walked up to the front door.

John helped Tina with her coat, laying it over the bannister along with his.

Tina stood in the hallway, facing him. What now? Where did they go from here? John didn’t seem to be in a hurry to distance himself. He wasn’t rushing through to the kitchen offering to make coffee to defuse the situation and wasn’t making his excuses and heading for a night on the sofa either.

He was waiting for her. It was her call.

If she was going to back out, now was the time to do it. Tina rested the palm of her hand on his chest, her index finger touching the top of his shirt button. Was she ready to do this? Kissing another man since Sasha had died had been an awkward experience, but kissing John had been the opposite. He had stirred a passion deep within her that she thought she would never reach again. Her body was clearly telling her it was ready.

John placed his hand over hers and lifted it to his mouth, kissing her fingertips.

‘You decide,’ he said. ‘No pressure from me.’

His soft voice embraced her thoughts. His tenderness caressed her senses.

She thought of her mother, telling her to allow herself to live again. She thought of Sasha and how much she had lived with him and for him. She never thought she would want anyone again, but tonight she realised she was wrong.

‘I’ve not … since Sasha …’ she stumbled over her words. Was she ready mentally to be intimate with another man? She felt her earlier bravado and eagerness waiver. What if she didn’t know how to make love any more? It had been so long.

‘It’s okay. I understand,’ said John, sliding his free hand under her hair at the nape of her neck. His thumb stroked her skin. ‘We’ll take our time.’ He kissed her. ‘Let me show you. Trust me.’

She gave one last thought to Sasha. A love of another life. A life she had lost. She had lost too much. She didn’t want to lose again.





Chapter 16


John awoke first, his arm was draped over Tina’s shoulder as she slept, spooned against him. He stroked her hair away from her face and dropped a tender kiss on her shoulder. If only he could suspend reality, for both of them.

In the real world, where he wasn’t an accountant but a DS, sleeping with a witness or, depending whose point of view you were looking at it from, a suspect, wasn’t his best move. He was only too aware of the complications this could bring. If Brogan got wind of this, John could find himself on gardening duty.

Tina stirred and rolled over. She opened her eyes and smiled at him.

‘Well, hello, there,’ she said. The touch of her lips on his sent his professional conscience packing.

‘Morning,’ he replied, returning her smile. ‘You okay?’

‘Is that code for do I have any regrets about last night?’ She ran a finger through the hairs on his chest.

‘And do you?’ he asked.

‘No. You?’

He shook his head. ‘Not possible.’

Her fingers found their way to the scar below his collarbone. She circled the damaged tissue.

‘How did you get this?’ she asked.

‘War wound.’ He moved her hand away, kissing her, distracting her from her questions. Soldiers were bestowed medals for their bravery. John’s medal, branded on his skin, bestowed for less heroic reasons.

John was in the kitchen checking his phone when Tina came downstairs later that morning. Her hair was still damp from her shower and she wore a white towelling dressing gown pulled around her, the belt holding it loosely together. Just reaching mid-thigh, it showed off her long legs.