{"id":4556,"date":"2013-10-14T11:35:56","date_gmt":"2013-10-14T11:35:56","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/bookoxygen.com\/?p=4556"},"modified":"2013-10-17T11:12:26","modified_gmt":"2013-10-17T11:12:26","slug":"almost-love-by-christina-james","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bookoxygen.com\/?p=4556","title":{"rendered":"Almost Love by Christina James"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>Published by Salt Publishing June 2013<\/strong><\/p>\n

Christine James –\u00a0 also a well-established non-fiction writer, under a separate name –\u00a0is a novelist who sets her books in the evocative Fenland countryside of South Lincolnshire. With In the Family, <\/em>she launched a crime series featuring Detective Inspector Tim Yates.<\/p>\n

Almost Love<\/em>, the second novel in this series, develops out of the disappearance of Dame Claudia McRae, the famous veteran archaeologist, who has left only a gruesome smear of blood to indicate her fate.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Read\u00a0on, for the opportunity\u00a0to\u00a0sample this compelling new crime thriller for yourself.<\/p>\n

*\u00a0<\/p>\n

Chapter One<\/p>\n

It was the boozy night before the conference, towards the end of the evening, and Alex, who was neither sober nor completely drunk, was heading for bed. It had been a long day and she had not enjoyed the preconference dinner. She\u2019d had to look after the speakers, an irascible bunch of eccentrics who had taken a dim view of the wine waiter\u2019s capabilities; they\u2019d complained to his face in loud, alcohol-charged voices that had gradually tipped over into unpleasantness. The argument was about credit cards. Alex had been sitting at the far end of the long speakers\u2019 table, and she hadn\u2019t caught the start of it. The waiter, a youth of about nineteen, was standing there stolidly, holding the card\u00a0 machine in his hand and woodenly absorbing their opprobrium . Nevertheless, Alex was afraid that someone from the hotel management would come diving into the fracas and there would be a scene. Without enquiring what exactly had gone wrong, Alex had smoothed things over by herself paying for their wine. As she was keying in her PIN, the thought had crossed her mind that their indignation might have been a ploy to get the extra alcohol buckshee. She dismissed it as uncharitable \u2013 less because she did not think that it might be true than because she did not want to descend into a depressed state of cynicism ahead of two days in the company of these people.<\/p>\n

She had intended to leave the hotel dining-room immediately dinner was over and headed for the shallow staircase that led past the maitre d\u2019s desk to where the lifts were. Oliver Sparham suddenly emerged from the small bar where everyone was now gathering. He was one of the more civilized delegates whom she had managed to bounce into acting as conference chairman on the following day. Grasping her elbow, he asked her if she would join him for a drink. She was both too dazed and too polite to refuse; she knew that she owed him for the task that he had agreed to (and, more to the point, which he had yet to perform). She nodded consent and allowed him to steer her, still holding on to her elbow, past the knot of people gathered at the bar\u2019s double doors and into the inner drinking sanctum itself. She knew that many of the conference delegates would now be ensconced in this room until the hotel closed it at 2 a.m.; she was determined not to be among them.<\/p>\n

\u2018There\u2019s a table over there with two seats free,\u2019 said Oliver. \u2018You go and claim it, and I\u2019ll buy you a drink. What will it be?\u2019<\/p>\n

At least these words gave her an excuse to shake him free. Her mind was fuzzy with wine and fatigue. What could she ask for that would not give her a blinding headache the next day.<\/p>\n

\u2018Prosecco,\u2019 she said. \u2018Just a small one.\u2019 She tried to smile at him.<\/p>\n

He nodded and trotted off, his face pink under the lights, his spectacles gleaming, evidently unaware that her response was barely lukewarm.<\/p>\n

She sat on one of the red velvet upholstered stools at the small, cockly table that he had indicated and, picking up a beer mat, slowly began to shred it. Someone said close in her ear: \u2018Bored again, I see. It\u2019s an occupational hazard at these events. Mind if I join you?\u2019<\/p>\n

She knew it was not Oliver before she looked up; glancing across at the bar, she saw that he was still queuing and some way from being served. She had not recognized the voice, however, so when she turned to meet the eye of her new companion she was surprised to see that it was Edmund Baker, the Heritage Officer forSouth Lincolnshire and currently Honorary President of the Society. His voice must have sounded strange because he\u2019d been drinking. She sighed inwardly. Edmund was famous for being a bore when he was sober; when he was drunk, his stupor-inducing talents were almost legendary.<\/p>\n

\u2018Hello, Edmund,\u2019 she said offhandedly. \u2018Did you have a good dinner?\u2019<\/p>\n

He wrinkled his long nose rather comically. \u2018So-so,\u2019 he said. \u2018I got saddled with Lois Merton. Not much of a looker, is she? Even if she has got the equipment up top.\u2019 He mimed two enormous breasts, accompanying the gesture with the exaggerated leer of a schoolboy.<\/p>\n

\u2018Really, Edmund, that is a disgraceful comment. I\u2019d rather you talked to someone else if you can\u2019t behave any better.\u2019 She smiled, though, in spite of herself.<\/p>\n

\u2018I\u2019ll behave if you let me talk to you,\u2019 he said. \u2018Can I buy you a drink?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Oliver\u2019s getting one for me; and in fact he was sitting just there. You\u2019ll have to give that seat up to him when he comes back.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Yes, ma\u2019am,\u2019 he said, pulling another schoolboy face. His hair was silver-white. Alex wondered what colour it had been in his youth. She guessed sandy, which meant that he probably hadn\u2019t been as attractive then as he was now.<\/p>\n

She gulped inwardly. Had the thought just flitted through her brain that Edmund could be in any way attractive? She\u2019d always found him difficult to deal with and very boring on occasions; and actually quite asexual.<\/p>\n

When Oliver came back with her drink, she would down it as quickly as she decently could and go to bed. Her judgment had been impaired by the booze.<\/p>\n

\u2018What\u2019s up?\u2019 said Edmund. He was evidently in a good mood. She saw that he was clutching a large scotch.<\/p>\n

\u2018Nothing,\u2019 said Alex. \u2018I\u2019m just tired, that\u2019s all.\u2019 She cast around for something to talk about. Afterwards, she could never quite understand why she had shared her pet project with Edmund.<\/p>\n

\u2018Since you\u2019re there,\u2019 she began, \u2018there is something I\u2019d like to talk to you about. It\u2019s all those cases of old finds we\u2019re holding at the Archaeological Society. I\u2019d really like to organize a project to classify them, before all sense of where they came from gets lost forever. Some of them are beyond classification already. The trouble is I don\u2019t have the time \u2013 or even the knowledge, for some of the stuff \u2013 to do it myself. I\u2019d need to set up a research project, probably involving academics and students, over a period of time. And I\u2019d need a joint project manager, because I\u2019m away so much. So it would have to attract some quite substantial funding. I thought you might be able to help me to get it: point me in the right direction, advise on writing a proposal, that sort of thing. I know you have more experience in attracting money than I do.\u2019<\/p>\n

Edmund looked at her for a long moment, swirling the scotch in his glass as he did so.<\/p>\n

\u2018I could help you with more than securing the funding,\u2019 he said unexpectedly. \u2018I\u2019d be happy to work with you on it, if you\u2019d let me be joint project manager. It would be good to find out if we work well together. I\u2019ll be retiring soon, and I\u2019ll need something else to fill my life with. I\u2019ve often toyed with the idea of setting up a little business with you.\u2019<\/p>\n

Alex was taken aback. She tried to think quickly. Edmund was much older than she was \u2013 as he said, he was close to retiring, which made him more than twenty years her senior \u2013 and, although she\u2019d long dreamed of setting up a sort of research consultancy for archaeological projects, she\u2019d always thought that if she made a go of it, it would be a business that Tom might like to work in as well. Even Tom couldn\u2019t spend his whole life doing social work. But, counter-intuitively, she suddenly found something appealing in the idea of working with Edmund.<\/p>\n

Oliver came back with their drinks before she could reply. Edmund launched himself to his feet, swaying a little.<\/p>\n

\u2018Alex says that this is your seat,\u2019 he said. \u2018Don\u2019t let me interrupt anything. Ah, I see there\u2019s another chair over there. I\u2019ll just fetch it.\u2019<\/p>\n

He turned his back. Oliver handed Alex her glass of Prosecco, pulling a face as he did so.<\/p>\n

\u2018Sorry,\u2019 he said. \u2018That\u2019s what happens when you leave a girl on her own; she becomes a maiden, or perhaps I should say matron, in distress. How long has he been boring you?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018He hasn\u2019t been here for very long, and actually he hasn\u2019t been boring me at all.\u2019 She meant to sound surprised, but she realized as soon as she spoke that she had delivered the sentence rather aggressively.<\/p>\n

\u2018Oh. Well, to quote Edmund, \u201cDon\u2019t let me interrupt anything.\u201d If you\u2019re happy talking to him, I\u2019m quite willing to leave you two alone. I have no wish to play gooseberry,\u2019 he added, smirking slightly.<\/p>\n

\u2018Don\u2019t be ridiculous. And don\u2019t go, either. There\u2019s no reason why the three of us shouldn\u2019t have a perfectly civilized conversation. We\u2019re all far too old for playground squabbles.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018You\u2019re right there. Especially Edmund.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Especially Edmund what?\u2019 said Edmund, returning in triumph with a spindly gilded chair that looked as if it would not take his weight.<\/p>\n

\u2018Nothing,\u2019 she and Oliver said together. They both giggled.<\/p>\n

\u2018I see. Talking about me behind my back, were you?\u2019 said Edmund. He spoke genially, without rancour. Alex reflected that she had never seen him in such a good mood.<\/p>\n

Oliver launched into test-delivering a series of little vignettes that he had prepared by way of introducing the speakers the next day. Alex thought that they succeeded in being quite as humorously malicious as he had intended, but she could hardly concentrate on what he was saying and she wished he would lower his voice; she knew that his performance tomorrow would fall flat if too many people overheard in advance what he was planning. Edmund didn\u2019t contribute to the conversation at all, which was unlike him, but she was grateful for it. She knew that he could be both rude and tactless if he was feeling cantankerous. But he continued to swirl the whisky in his glass, smiling and nodding almost beatifically. Afterwards, it occurred to her that he had been very drunk. She herself was quite drunk by this time. The room had taken on a surreal quality; voices rushed at her and then retreated; a wicked little pang that she\u2019d felt in her forehead while she was shredding the beer mat was growing into a Goliath of a headache. Her replies to Oliver, as he showed off his genial but lethal character-assassination skills and asked mock-modestly for reassurance that he was delivering \u2018what she had anticipated\u2019, became ever more perfunctory. Edmund continued to grin and swirl, and then suddenly downed what was left of the whisky.<\/p>\n

\u2018Anyone want another drink?\u2019 he asked.<\/p>\n

\u2018Not for me, thanks,\u2019 said Oliver. \u2018It\u2019s time I went to bed. I need to have a clear head tomorrow. So does Alex, don\u2019t you, love?\u2019<\/p>\n

Alex watched Edmund\u2019s eyes widen and knew, with a shock, that he thought that Oliver was trying to proposition her, whereas she was quite certain that all he meant to do was release her from Edmund so that she could go to bed; her own bed, in the magnificent suite that was always allocated to her in recognition of her hard work in organizing the conference, but which she barely saw because her every waking hour had to be spent elsewhere. It was because she could not bear to give Edmund grounds to believe this inference that she made herself accept his offer of yet another drink. Oliver stood up and made a waving gesture.<\/p>\n

\u2018Have fun,\u2019 he said. \u2018I\u2019ll see you tomorrow. Bright and early, Alex, I hope. I\u2019ve asked the AV people if we can do a quick run-through before breakfast.\u2019<\/p>\n

Edmund also stood, swaying even more than when he had first approached her.<\/p>\n

\u2018I\u2019ll go and get those drinks,\u2019 he said thickly. \u2018Prosecco, was it?\u2019<\/p>\n

Alex nodded weakly. Her evening was turning into a disaster, yet one from which she felt powerless to extricate herself. She knew that tomorrow she would feel sick and hungover and that, when she got up, the day\u2019s programme of conference presentations and \u2018gala dinner\u2019 would seem to drag on endlessly before she could crawl into bed again. She desperately needed her bed now, but getting to it seemed harder than walking through a maze for the first time.<\/p>\n

Edmund came back with a much larger glass of Prosecco than the one that Oliver had bought and what seemed to be at least half a tumbler of whisky on the rocks. He sat down heavily. She took the glass of wine from him and sipped it. He started talking about her idea again. Alex said little, but took a few more sips of the wine. Miraculously, the pain in her head lifted.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

She had intended to leave the hotel dining-room immediately dinner was over and headed for the shallow staircase that led past the maitre d\u2019s desk to where the lifts were. Oliver Sparham suddenly emerged from the small bar where everyone was now gathering. He was one of the more civilized delegates whom she had managed to bounce into acting as conference chairman on the following day. Grasping her elbow, he asked her if she would join him for a drink. She was both too dazed and too polite to refuse; she knew that she owed him for the task that he had agreed to (and, more to the point, which he had yet to perform). She nodded consent and allowed him to steer her, still holding on to her elbow, past the knot of people gathered at the bar\u2019s double doors and into the inner
\ndrinking sanctum itself. She knew that many of the conference delegates would now be ensconced in this room until the hotel closed it at 2 a.m.; she was determined not to be among them […] in Authors and extracts<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[20,23],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4556","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-authors-and-writing","category-extracts-and-short-stories"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookoxygen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4556","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookoxygen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookoxygen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookoxygen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookoxygen.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4556"}],"version-history":[{"count":12,"href":"https:\/\/bookoxygen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4556\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4589,"href":"https:\/\/bookoxygen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4556\/revisions\/4589"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookoxygen.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4556"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookoxygen.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4556"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookoxygen.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4556"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}