Death at Rainbow Cottage by Jo Allen (novel24 TXT) 📕

have been personal. To date there was nothing to indicate which. ‘That’s an option.’

‘Whereas in fact being gay isn’t a binary thing. It’s a spectrum. Almost certainly people who hate gay people don’t hate them because they’re different. They hate them because they recognise the same thing in themselves but are afraid, for whatever reason, of admitting to it.’

‘That’s one theory.’ It fitted Giles Butler and his self-loathing too neatly. He’d seemed more uncomfortable about his sexuality than grief-stricken about the loss of the man he’d claimed to love.

On the far side of the room Faye and Claud shuffled towards the door, still in conversation. Faye had a cardboard cup of coffee in her hand and Claud kept drifting away towards them and then heading back, as if whatever she had to say was too important to let go.

‘Oh, it’s more than just a theory. I saw it a lot when I was in acting. People assume the theatre attracts gay people but that’s wrong.’ Natalie, too, was watching Claud and Faye, her fork suspended halfway to her lips. ‘The culture is more open so they’re just less afraid of acknowledging it. I mean, let’s be honest. It’s a rare individual who’s never remotely attracted to someone of the same sex.’

‘But that can be to do with personality.’

‘Personality is only a part of it. I do believe that if one finds another person attractive there has to be a physical element to it.’ Natalie jabbed her fork into the chaos on her plate. ‘Many friendships are platonic but that’s because of the balance of the relationship. Obviously, heterosexual people don’t fancy every person of the opposite sex they meet. I believe every one of us is bisexual to a degree. Even if we haven’t had a relationship with someone of our own sex it’s usually because we don’t understand how we feel, because society has placed a false definition of sexual attraction upon us. We become defensive about it, but that doesn’t mean the sexual attraction doesn’t exist. And so we feel we’re attracted to the wrong people.’ She folded a scrap of lettuce into a parcel and popped it in her mouth.

Jude should have been there, listening. There was something so dislocated in Natalie's argument it felt as if she was parroting the words of someone else, without quite remembering them or understanding them enough for them to make sense. In Ashleigh’s experience relationships were far more nuanced than that and she didn’t need to be reminded of it while Faye was standing in the room looking severe. That relationship had been an error of judgement, not gender — the wrong person at the wrong time. ‘What was it like, being an actress?’

‘Fairly grim, if I’m honest.’ Natalie considered the debris on her plate and laid her cutlery down. ‘Late nights. Hard work. I loved the job, of course. There’s something magical about going on stage and becoming someone else for an hour or two. It was all the other things that went with it. I’m not an itinerant. As I grew older I began to value the security of routine, and an actor’s life has none of that. The glamour only lasted for a month or so and then I struggled.’

Police work combined the best and the worst of routine. Most of the time you never knew what you were doing other than that the greater part of it would be dull. ‘No.’

‘That’s why I started running. I can control that. I’ve suffered from depression since my late teens.’ Tilting her elegant head towards Ashleigh with a questioning look, Natalie dabbed her lips with a napkin as the few crumbs she’d eaten had filled her up. ‘Claud says I’m obsessed by it. I try and run a hundred miles a week.’

A hundred miles a week and no carbs. It was enough to make anyone feel faint. ‘Does it work?’

‘Yes. Though actually it’s been difficult this week. It’s been so hard to run. I keep thinking about what happened last weekend, wondering what I’ll find every time I run round a corner. But I have to run. I’d run all day if I could. I made myself run past the place where I found that poor man, but only once. Since then I’ve run in the town.’ The sandwich defeated her. She pushed the plate aside and drained the last of her coffee. ‘Claud’s looking for me. I’d better go.’

Over by the door, Faye and Claud had concluded their conversation and separated, he moving towards them. ‘Okay to go, Nat? Chris Dodd can give us ten minutes on what he thought of the workshop. I can manage without you, if you’re still eating.’

‘Just coming.’ Obedient to a summons he hadn’t issued, she jumped up. ‘I suppose I’ll see you again, Ashleigh.’

The relationship between Natalie and her husband played out on their walk to the door, she gazing up at him and he guiding her with a hand on the small of her back, a one-way dependency he seemed to accept without question. Ashleigh finished her sandwich and finally turned without guilt to the slice of cake that had accompanied it, just as Jude slid round the door. She watched, with more satisfaction than she would have admitted to, as he headed towards her. ‘Sorry. Doddsy was hell bent on telling me everything he’s learned today about respecting other people’s differences.’ He grinned at her. ‘Did you find me a decent sandwich?’

She stifled her amusement. ‘It’s chicken, all there was left. And thanks to you I’ve had to endure Natalie sitting opposite me, pretending not to judge me for having two lunches. It just about broke me.’

‘I have a stronger heart. Or a bigger hunger. It wouldn’t have broken me.’ He sat down, reached for the sandwich and ripped it free from its packaging. ‘Claud seems very taken with our Doddsy. I