Read Cambridge Blue for Free Online Page A

myself.’
    ‘But I could tell.’
    ‘You know me.’
    ‘You’re not as good at lying as you think you are. In fact, you’re the wrong person to try leading a double life. You really ought to stop now, Gary.’
    ‘We’ll see,’ he said and turned his attention back to the band.
    His grandmother waited until the next gap between numbers before she spoke again. ‘She’s nothing like Claire.’
    There was no edge to her voice and he knew that stirring up trouble wasn’t her way, so he just shrugged. ‘I’m only here to watch her play.’
    She touched his arm. ‘I didn’t mean that in a negative way, just that you obviously don’t have a type.’
    ‘I know,’ he replied. And it was a fair point. Claire was like the clichéd Scandinavian blonde, despite having been born and bred in Derbyshire. They had met in their first week at university, and they’d found themselves bowled over by the kind of hit-you-in-the-face, all-encompassing love that exists in movies. Until he met Claire, Goodhew had assumed real-life romance could never be that intense, but for three subsequent years they had been inseparable, inhabiting each other’s lives with an intensity that never soured into claustrophobia or boredom. But, ultimately, they reached a mutual understanding that it wasn’t a relationship that would translate into their adult lives: it was more like a three-year-long holiday romance.
    He couldn’t imagine loving anyone more than he’d loved Claire, but the hard truth was that, in the end, whatever they felt for each other wasn’t enough.
    She had ambitions to be an architect in London, while his dream was to be a police detective here, in what she called the ‘museum city of Cambridge’. OK, they might have overcome the geographical obstacles, but he guessed their post-university lives were destined to follow increasingly divergent trajectories. Their split was one of those rare amicable break-ups: term finished and so did they. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
    Three years on, and he thought about her infrequently now, but on those occasions she still glowed, basking in Color By Deluxe while every girl he’d met before her had long since faded into grainy black and white.
    His grandmother was right: Mel wasn’t Claire but, more importantly, Mel wasn’t monochrome either.
    Kincaide drained his glass, then leant his elbow on the bar while he waited to be served again. He noticed Goodhew was still sitting with the same woman who was sixty if she was a day, and it wasn’t just the age difference that made them seem an odd couple; Goodhew was perpetually under-groomed while she’d clearly been high maintenance her whole life.
    As the barmaid handed some change to the man standing next to him, Kincaide waved his glass in her direction and demanded ‘Foster’s’.
    He felt his mobile vibrating in his pocket, and though he had no intention of answering it, he took it out anyway, just to see who was calling. His pint arrived as the caller display announced ‘DI Marks’, which probably meant there’d be nothing stronger than coffee for him for the rest of the night.
    Marks just wanted the two of them, Kincaide and Goodhew, back at the station, and was therefore pleased to learn that a single phone call had found them both.
    Kincaide pushed his way towards Goodhew thinking, This is absolutely great. He didn’t want to be thrown together with some enthusiastic new kid anyway, but being his taxi service back to town irritated him even more. No doubt the journey would be filled with inane conversation when all Kincaide really wanted to do was wind down for the night.
    ‘Marks wants us back in,’ Kincaide announced to Goodhew, with a glance at the woman who seemed intent on only listening to the music.
    ‘Now?’
    ‘No, next Tuesday. Yes, right now, if that’s not too much trouble.’
    Mel was still playing as Goodhew mouthed ‘Goodbye’ to her. She didn’t smile back, which was fair enough