Chapter 17

Roy stepped into the bright morning bustle of Reliabuild’s main office with a grin tugging at his lips. Freshly printed reports lay spread across the conference table, the smell of brewing coffee mingling with the faint scent of sawdust from the workshops. He raised a hand to wave at Anne, who was adjusting her tablet behind reception, and exchanged a cheery nod with the junior architects pouring out of the meeting room. Today was an exciting day: Brian O’Callaghan’s first day on the job, a million projects waiting and a busy schedule ahead. Roy felt a pleasant buzz of anticipation.

A moment later, Anne ushered the new recruit through the door. “Brian, welcome aboard,” she called crisply. “Roy will be your point-man for the induction tour shortly. We’ve got your workstation set up already.” Brian O’Callaghan stood shyly in a neat shirt and trousers, clutching a briefcase in one hand and a reusable coffee mug in the other, giving a polite smile. Roy stepped forward, his lanky frame relaxed and casual in jeans and flannel, meeting Brian’s handshake with his own. “Hey Brian, great to have you on board,” he said cheerily, tipping the brim of his cap in greeting.

After Anne had shown Brian the ins and outs of project software and filing, Roy clapped his hands together. “Alright, then — site tour time!” Anne’s smile broadened. “Have fun,” she replied before leaving them.

The morning sun lit up the half-constructed building site where Reliabuild had begun its latest project, a headquarters for a major corporation. The smell of fresh timber and the distant clang of tools were everywhere. Roy pointed to the steel framework recently installed. “There’s the new conference wing,” he said proudly. “The guys finished welding that last night. Looking good, eh?” Brian nodded, impressed by the scale of the work. Roy continued, guiding him past rows of scaffolding and piles of bricks, explaining the various stages of construction with genuine enthusiasm.

By lunchtime, they were both starved. They headed back inside, and Roy gave Brian the once-over. “So? Impressed with the place?” he asked, grinning. Brian gave a thumbs up. “It’s amazing. Looks like a tight ship here.” Roy returned a mock salute and laughed. “We try! But enough about work for now — time for lunch.”

With Brian now taking some weight off Roy’s shoulders, Roy felt lighter than he had in months. His afternoon stretched out with dozens of new tasks completed — Roy suddenly had some time to spare. Picking up the phone, he phoned Sonia and suggested they have dinner together this evening, after she came off air from fronting her TV show.

By evening, the golden glow of sunset filtered through the kitchen window of Celia’s flat. Roy walked in carrying a bunch of wildflowers — a spontaneous gift plucked from a roadside stop — and set them gently into a jar of water. Sonia was busy at the stove, wearing her embroidered apron, stirring something aromatic. She looked up and smiled as Roy approached. “That’s lovely of you,” she said, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “They’ll look perfect on the table.” Roy winked at her. “Only the best for you. And you’re cooking, not Celia?”

“She ‘suddenly’ remembered she had promised to visit a friend tonight.”

“That was providential. So, chef, what culinary genius are we having tonight?”

Sonia laughed and gave him a gentle nudge. “I’ll have you know this pasta has Gordon Ramsay’s approval — but don’t tell him I said so.” She stirred the pot and added a pinch of salt. The kitchen was warm with the evening light, and their laughter joined the gentle hiss of the pan. Sonia chopped fresh vegetables, and Roy leaned against the counter, casual in his worn jeans. He strummed a few chords on the guitar leaning in the corner, humming a playful tune. Between stirs and sizzles, they caught up on their days: Sonia’s amusing studio anecdotes, Brian’s first-day on the job. Occasionally Roy’s hand would brush hers on the counter, each touch lingering a second longer than needed. Sonia shot him a mock-exasperated look of affection whenever he grinned. Over steaming bowls of hearty pasta and crusty bread, they talked and teased as the world outside dimmed to a quiet hum.

Sonia glanced at him curiously as the red wine caught the candlelight. Roy hesitated, the familiar playful smirk fading. He drank half the glass, collecting courage. “I reckon I’m in a bit of trouble,” he said at last, voice mock-serious. “See, I can’t seem to stop thinking about you.” Sonia’s cheeks flamed with pleasure, and she nudged him gently. “Trouble can be good,” she whispered with a warm smile, reaching over to squeeze his hand. Roy grinned and toasted her with his glass.

Midweek, their calm was interrupted by an unexpected summons. Thursday afternoon, Roy received a call from the secretary to Superintendant Bryant. Can he come in to the police station at 3.00 that afternoon? Roy asks the reason, but the secretary can’t give an answer. Roy thinks that it may be important for Sonia to accompany him, though she is not specifically invited. Sonia is able to get time off work, and the pair duly present themselves at the third floor of the station. Another policeman, Detective Senior Sergeant Goodall, is also present when the pair are shown in.