Sidney Chambers and The Shadow of Death (The Grantchester Mysteries)

somewhere else. Then, when we were still in the pub, he looked me in the eye for a long time before speaking and . . . oh . . . do you mind if I have a drop more? Dutch courage, you know.’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘You must find this all rather seedy. You know what I am going to say, don’t you?’
    Sidney poured out the drinks. ‘No, I don’t think I do,’ he said quietly. ‘Please go on.’ He had learned never to stop a narrative in full flow.
    ‘Stephen told me that he couldn’t stop thinking about me; that every part of his life without me was a misery; and that he loved me. I couldn’t believe it. He said what a miracle it was that we had the chance to be alone so that he could tell me. He only lived for the times when we saw each other and that if only we could be together then his life would have purpose and meaning and he would drink less and be happy.’
    Pamela Morton looked up, expecting Sidney to ask what she had done. ‘Go on . . .’ he said.
    ‘As he was speaking,’ Pamela continued, ‘I felt this strange heat inside me. I don’t know where it came from. I thought I was going to faint. My life seemed to fall away from me. I hadn’t ever thought about it before but he was saying all the things I thought myself. I could see that my life did not have to be a dead end in a small provincial town. I could begin again. We could run away, escape our own past and live without history, pretending that there had been no war, we had lost no friends and that we had no family. We could just be two people with the future before them. We could go away, anywhere, Stephen said. He had some money saved and all I had to do was think about it. He didn’t want to rush me. All he wanted was for me to say yes . . .’
    ‘And did you?’
    ‘I thought it was mad and impossible. I was frightened and thrilled at the same time. He talked about getting back in the car and driving away there and then, down to the coast, and taking a boat across the Channel. I didn’t know what to say. He told me to imagine how we’d laugh, thinking of the havoc we’d wrought. We could drive all the way through France, staying at hopelessly romantic hotels while everyone else continued with their humdrum lives back in Cambridge. We would be free. We would go to Nice and the French Riviera and we would dress up and dance on warm summer nights under the stars. It was crazy and it was wonderful and although we knew we couldn’t leave there and then it was surely only a matter of time. Anything was possible. Everything could change.’
    ‘When was this? Sidney asked.
    ‘It was just after the Coronation. The pub still had its bunting up. Four months ago.’
    ‘I see.’
    ‘I can understand what you’re thinking.’
    ‘I am not judging you in any way,’ Sidney replied, knowing that he was not sure what to think. ‘I am listening.’
    ‘But you must wonder. If we were that impetuous why has it taken us so long? My children have left home but, even so, I thought of them. Then, as soon as we got back home, I became frightened of what it all meant. I began to lose heart. I couldn’t quite believe what had happened. Perhaps it had been a dream and Stephen had never said those things, but then we started to meet each other in secret and I knew that it was the only thing I wanted to do. I was obsessed. I could not believe that no one had noticed any change in me. “Surely they can tell?” I thought to myself. I hardly dared to believe that I was getting away with it. The more it went on the more I couldn’t wait to leave. I was no longer myself. In fact, I didn’t know who I was, but I told Stephen that we had to be sure that we had everything settled before we could do something so rash and that we should go in the New Year.’
    ‘And he agreed?’
    ‘As long as he saw me, he said, he believed that anything was possible. And we were happy.’
    ‘And no one else knew of your plans?’
    ‘I have a friend in London. She . . . it’s difficult to explain, Canon Chambers. She let me pretend that I was staying with her . . .’
    ‘When, in reality?’
    ‘I was in a hotel with Stephen? I’m afraid so. You must think me very cheap.’
    Sidney was taken aback by her frankness. ‘It is not for me to pass judgement, Mrs Morton.’
    ‘Pamela. Please, call me Pamela . . .’
    It was too soon for such familiarity. Sidney decided to try not to offer his guest another drink.
    ‘So you see why I have come, Canon Chambers?’
    Sidney