Waiting for Wednesday

pen like that?’
    Frieda glanced down. She was still holding
the pen in her fist, like a dagger. ‘I thought there was a burglar,’ she
said. Once more she made herself take a deep breath. It had been well meant, she told
herself. ‘So, how long will it take to put my old bath back just the way it
was?’
    Josef looked thoughtful. ‘That is
problem,’ he said. ‘When we took the bath from the wall and the pipe and the
brackets, there were big cracks from that. That bath was just all crap. And, anyway, it
is now at the dump.’
    ‘This is probably some sort of crime,
what you’ve done, but anyway, what happens now?’
    ‘The beautiful bath is now in the
workshop of another friend called Klaus. That is no problem. But here …’ He
gestured with his wrench at the damage and gave a sigh. ‘That is
problem.’
    ‘What do you mean a problem?’
said Frieda. ‘
You
did it.’
    ‘No, no,’ said Josef.
‘This is …’ He said something in his own language. It sounded
contemptuous. ‘The pipe connecting here is very bad. Very bad.’
    ‘It always worked fine.’
    ‘It was just being lucky. One movement
of the bath and …’ He made an eloquent gesture signifying a chaotic and
destructive flood. ‘I will put a proper pipe here and make the wall good and tiles
on the floor. It will be my gift to you and you will have a bath that will be your place
to be happy.’
    ‘When?’ said Frieda.
    ‘I will do what must be done,’
said Josef.
    ‘Yes, but when will you do
it?’
    ‘It will be a few days. Only a very
few.’
    ‘I was going to have a bath now. All
the way home I had anidea in my head of having it and what it was
going to be like and how much I needed it.’
    ‘It will be worth the waiting
for.’
My very dearest Frieda, I’m
sitting in my office, thinking of you. Whatever I do, whoever I meet, I think of
you. I can give a lecture, and all the time I’m talking, the words coming
quite fluently from me, part of my mind is occupied with you. I can hold a
conversation, cut up an onion, walk across Brooklyn Bridge, and you’re there.
It’s like an ache that won’t go away, and that I do not want to go away.
I was going to say I haven’t felt like this since I was a teenager, but I
never felt like this as a teenager! I ask myself why I’m here, when my
life’s work is to make you happy. I can hear you say that happiness
isn’t the point, that you don’t know the meaning of the word – but I
know the meaning of the word: happiness for me is being loved by Frieda Klein.
    You sounded a bit distracted on the
phone this evening. Please tell me why. Tell me everything. Remember our river walk.
Remember me. Sandy xxxxxxx



FIVE
    Commissioner Crawford frowned. ‘Make
this quick,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a meeting.’
    ‘Is it a problem?’ said
Karlsson. ‘I rang ahead before I came over.’
    ‘We’re all doing more with less
at the moment.’
    ‘Which is why I wanted to talk to you
about Bradshaw.’
    The commissioner’s frown darkened
still further. He got up, walked to the window and looked out over St James’s
Park. He turned to Karlsson. ‘What do you think of the view?’
    ‘Very striking,’ said
Karlsson.
    ‘It’s one of the rewards of the
job,’ said the commissioner. He brushed a few specks of dust off the sleeve of his
uniform. ‘You should come here more often. It might clarify your mind.’
    ‘About what?’
    ‘About running a tight ship,’
said the commissioner. ‘About being a team player.’
    ‘I thought it was about solving
crimes.’
    The commissioner took a step away from the
window towards Karlsson, who was still standing beside the large wooden desk.
‘Don’t come that with me,’ he said. ‘A police force is about
political influence, and it always has been. If I can’t get up the home
secretary’s arse and get you the funding that you’re pissing away, you
won’t be in a position to solve your crimes, any of you. I know things are tough,
Mal, but these are tough times and we all have to make sacrifices.’
    ‘In that case, I’m willing to
sacrifice Dr Hal Bradshaw.’
    The commissioner looked at him sharply.
‘You mentioned him on the phone. Has he done something wrong?’
    ‘I met him at the Chalk Farm murder
scene. He just turned up.’
    ‘That’s the arrangement,’
said the commissioner. ‘I know the way he works. The quicker he can get on the
scene, the more use he can be to us.’
    ‘I think he’s a
distraction,’ said