Everything is Beautiful by Eleanor Ray (best classic romance novels txt) 📕

‘It’s just a caution,’ said Amy. She smiled at her friend. ‘What did that policeman say to you?’ asked Amy, curious.

‘He gave me his number,’ said Chantel. ‘In case Spike gave me any trouble.’

‘He fancied you,’ said Tim, eyes still closed.

‘No he didn’t,’ said Chantel.

‘He did,’ said Tim. ‘A man knows.’

‘He was hot,’ admitted Chantel. ‘Bit square for me.’

‘Square is what you need,’ said Amy.

Chantel paused. ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ she said. She sat up. ‘I fancy starting over,’ said Chantel. ‘Somewhere new. I’ve always liked the sound of Wales. Rolling hills, sheep. I might get a job in a quaint little pub and flirt with the local farmers.’

‘I like the sound of that,’ said Tim, surprising Amy. ‘No bloody drummers throwing strops, no supermarkets with shelves to be stacked, no loans to be paid off. I could be one of the farmers in your pub. I rather fancy myself shearing sheep.’

‘You two wouldn’t last five minutes,’ said Amy. ‘You need the city. The buzz.’

‘Spike said the countryside is heaving with drugs,’ said Chantel. ‘Nothing else for people to do.’

‘Count me out,’ said Amy. ‘I like it here.’

‘Just you and me then, Timmy,’ said Chantel.

‘And the sheep,’ said Tim. ‘Don’t forget the sheep.’

Amy tried to ignore the unwelcome light of dawn, creeping in through the curtains. Instead she turned over in bed to snuggle up closer to Tim. She rested her head on his chest and felt the regular thud of his heartbeat, echoing her own.

‘Do you think she’ll break up with him?’ asked Tim. Amy was surprised at the question. She’d thought Tim was asleep.

‘I hope so,’ said Amy. ‘I’ve never understood what she sees in him. And now he does this to her.’

‘Dangerous bad boys,’ explained Tim. ‘Women can’t resist us.’

‘Us?’ questioned Amy, with a laugh.

‘Of course us,’ he said. ‘I’m the epitome of danger: a hard-drinking rock star.’

‘You haven’t been drunk in ages,’ said Amy, proudly. She didn’t mention that the band hadn’t had a gig for ages either. ‘And you like coconut-scented toiletries and giggle like a baby if I tickle your belly,’ she said, running her fingers teasingly across his stomach.

Tim emitted a shrill squeal at her touch and sucked his stomach away from her hand. ‘Point made,’ he said.

‘And I bet you wouldn’t throw a bag of drugs at me if the police showed up,’ continued Amy.

‘If I did, would you catch it?’ asked Tim, turning on his side and looking at Amy. ‘Would you take the rap for me?’

‘I’ve always been terrible at netball,’ replied Amy. ‘I’d probably drop it.’

‘I hope so,’ replied Tim, his voice serious. ‘I hate the idea of dragging you down with me.’

‘Don’t become a drug dealer and we’ll be fine,’ joked Amy.

‘I mean it,’ said Tim. ‘I sometimes think you’d be better off without me. You could really go places, Amy. Maybe I’m bad for you.’

Amy stared at him. Even in the dim light she could see concern cloud his features. ‘You’re no Spike,’ she said. ‘You’re talented, funny and kind. And the love of my life.’ She leaned forwards and kissed him. ‘And you even stub out joints when I ask you to, into an ashtray shaped like a guitar.’

‘I am rather wonderful,’ said Tim, sounding happier. ‘And you’re the love of my life too.’ He grinned at her, then snuggled down into the pillow, one arm resting comfortably across her chest. ‘Even if you can’t catch.’

‘Two visits in a week, Amy,’ said DCI Jack Hooper. ‘After eleven years with barely a word.’ He was sitting at his desk, but a hand rested on the mouse of his computer and his eyes were flicking back and forth to the screen as if the answers were to be found there.

‘I’m sorry to bother you again,’ said Amy, feeling he wished she’d leave. She hadn’t even been offered water this time.

‘I am very busy,’ he said, typing something on his keyboard.

‘It’s just that I’ve found something else,’ said Amy. ‘It’s a letter. From Chantel.’ His eyes finally left the screen, and Amy felt as though he’d jolted a little. ‘You are busy,’ she said. ‘Maybe I should take this to someone else.’

‘No, no, it’s fine,’ said Jack. ‘I’ve sent the email now.’ He turned away from his computer properly and gave Amy his attention. ‘What . . . ’ He paused, with uncharacteristic hesitance. ‘What does she say?’

Amy got out the letter and passed it over to him. ‘See for yourself,’ she said.

He grabbed the letter and studied it. ‘It’s not in great condition,’ he said finally.

‘It’s been in a pot for rather a long time,’ said Amy. ‘It must have fallen in when I kept it by the door, and I didn’t notice it in there when I moved the pot into the garden.’

‘All sorts have been eating at this,’ he said. ‘I really can’t make out what Chantel is getting at. Can you?’

‘Just the odd word,’ said Amy. ‘But I think perhaps it is a confession.’

‘Confession?’ echoed Jack.

‘That she and Tim did run away together. Look. Jealous. Love. Run.’

‘I see,’ said Jack. He looked at the letter again. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘It must be that. I always told you.’ He smiled at her. ‘Perhaps this is the closure you need.’

‘There’s more,’ said Amy. She passed him the photograph. He took it and stared at it for a long time.

‘Do you know what this is?’ he asked, finally.

‘No idea,’ replied Amy. ‘I thought you might recognise it?’

‘No,’ he replied. ‘Sorry.’ He looked again. ‘I don’t see any landmarks either. It could be anywhere. Impossible to find out.’

‘I’m going to investigate,’ Amy told him. ‘Ask around the people we used to know. Someone must recognise it. Surely if I can find out where the photograph was taken, I can find out more about what happened. It must be linked.’

‘I can take care of that for you,’ said Jack, his hands on the