The Bird That Did Not Sing (DCI Lorimer) Read Online Free PDF Page B

and family life (no, she had never had children either, Vivien had told him), but there was a strange wistfulness in some of her glances. It was as if there was more to be said; things that she wanted to tell him privately. And his detective’s curiosity was aroused.
    As Lorimer hesitated, he saw her rise from her place at the table, one eyebrow arched in amusement at his indecision.
    ‘Come on, then,’ she said, and began to walk across the hall.
    It was only polite to follow, Lorimer told himself. There was nothing wrong with her request to have a quiet chat, was there? And yet as he passed Stu Clark’s table and saw the man’s eyebrows raised and that mocking grin, he knew what his old friend must be thinking.
    Vivien had stopped by a row of pegs that was their cloakroom for the evening and Lorimer watched as she pulled on a dark green coat, wrapping it around her slim body then flicking her hair out from the collar.
    There were several people around the doorway, smokers who had left the hall behind for a cigarette, but none of them commented on the well-dressed woman and the tall policeman stepping out into the chill of the April night.
    They walked on in silence, past the darkened windows of classrooms and around a corner of the main building until they reached the playground. As they approached the scarred metal benches, Vivien looked back at him enquiringly.
    ‘Remember…?’ she began, a small smile on her lips as she took her old place on the bench. And of course he did remember. All those hours after school when they had sat here putting the world to rights, the whole of the playground quiet at last except for the occasional cleaner passing by or the janitor who never seemed to notice them there at all.
    She had crossed her legs and one foot was jigging up and down, Lorimer noticed, a sure sign of agitation.
    Then he was sitting beside her, hands folded under his chin, wondering what it was that she wanted to tell him.
    ‘Did you ever wonder about me at all?’ Vivien began, staring out at the darkness beyond the school buildings, deliberately avoiding his glance. ‘Ever think that first love was the sweetest?’
    ‘Sometimes,’ Lorimer admitted. ‘But things changed after my mum died.’ He shrugged. ‘And there were lots of other things in my life.’
    ‘Like your wife?’ She looked his way for a moment and he nodded.
    ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘I’ve been lucky. And you?’
    Vivien looked away again as she answered. ‘Charles is marvellous,’ she said. ‘The sort of person you only meet once in a lifetime.’
    Lorimer’s brow furrowed for a moment. Was he imagining a tinge of bitterness in her voice? And was that sudden shivering simply from the cold night air?
    Vivien drew out a packet of cigarettes from her handbag and offered them to Lorimer, who shook his head. He watched as she lit a cigarette with a slim silver lighter then inhaled deeply, closing her eyes in a moment of relief as the nicotine hit her bloodstream. Neither of them had smoked back then, his father’s early death having made the young William Lorimer determined not to acquire the habit. Watching as she flicked the ash from her cigarette, he saw a different Vivien, someone subtly sophisticated, a woman who was probably more at home in one of the many chichi bars and restaurants that London had to offer. With her husband, Charles.
    ‘Charles Gilmartin,’ Lorimer said suddenly. ‘Of course! I didn’t realise that’s who you were married to! He’s the famous theatre director, isn’t he?’
    Vivien smiled her familiar foxy smile.
    ‘The very one,’ she said. ‘My husband, the famous director.’
    ‘Then why…?’ Lorimer frowned as the question came unbidden to his lips.
    ‘Why aren’t I an equally famous actress?’ She shrugged. ‘Didn’t happen for me, did it?’
    Lorimer shook his head.
    ‘Too much competition,’ she said lightly.
    ‘But you still worked in the theatre?’
    ‘As Charles’s personal