Joe and Mary sat in her office, Darius having left on the train back to Bristol earlier. Mary’s printer was whirring noisily as page after page was spat out, each one full with black ink. Joe watched the printer, knowing that each one of these pages might hold the secret to his father’s demise, each squiggle and line a possible clue. Fresh coffee was ordered and the pair put their heads down as they removed through the flurry of paper. Occasionally a mention of site F would be found and placed in its own separate pile. As the sun began its downward descent, the pair decided to have a breather at the local pub.
Sitting down as he passed the large glass of Sauvignon Blanc to Mary across the wooden booze stained table, Joe took a refreshing sip of his pint, the head of which remained on his moustache like icing. Wiping his face with the back of sleeve, he groaned. “Christ, I haven't trawled through so much paperwork since my uni days. Is this something you do regularly? Mary nodded, smiling. “Aha yeah it's part of the job you know. 95% research and prep, 5% writing. Sorry, 94% and 1% sleuthing and spelunking. You have a somewhat skewed view of this life so far”. She had said it jokingly but they both felt the seriousness behind her words. In the background someone had put Black dog by the zepp on and Joe started tapping his foot along to the beat. “ Yeah, somehow I don't believe your percentages, especially considering..”. He was cut off as Mary had reached across and placed her hand on his mouth. She shook her head at him as she removed her hand. “ Something must never be discussed, especially in public”. Joe stared back at her, realising that he was very close to making a serious gaff. Mary on the other hand turned slightly red as she noticed she was still very close to Joe. Coughing she leaned back rearranging her hair as she did so. “Point being, this boring paperwork will almost invariably lead us down the path we'd like to tread. It only takes time and patience.”
They sat in companionable silence as they enjoyed their drink thereafter. The local punters raged and ranted at the bar over the recent sports results, as women laughed over overly large glasses of G&T. Outside the wind had picked up and the flowers in the hanging baskets were swinging about hanging onto their dear lives. People on the street pulled up their collars and did up their coats. Even the plague of pigeons made themselves scarce. High up in the sky, clouds twisted and twirled, their colours bleeding from pink hues to greyish black. A storm was coming, yet in the cozy pub where an open fire raged the couple felt no pressure like above.
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One drink became two. Two became four and soon generous libations of whiskey were being poured. “No country Mayo you blundering oaf. No puny storms like this wee rainy day. Nae, Atlantic storms that’ll take both your roof and your cattle. That's where I was born, where the weather is enemy number one and the sun only a distant memory. Not like here where you soft mainlanders swan about in the heat all day”. Mary seemed quite content with her rant as she chomped through another cheese and onion crisp to punctuate her point. “ That's may be true Mary, but you, and don't hate me for saying so, have become a soft mainlander now. Christ you're more English than a crumpet”
“How dare you! I'm no strumpet. I am extremely virtuous, I haven't had sex in 2 years I'll have you know”. Joe looked at her mouth agape. “ I said crumpet not strumpet. But two years, that's er…”.
“Crumpet, strumpet. And yes 2 dry years” she looked a bit sad at the admission. “Another toll of the job I daresay. To be sure.” Her demeanour changed completely as she stroked Joe's arm. “ And no I'm not looking for a pity shag, even if you might be slightly handsome despite your anorexic appearance.”
Joe looked at Mary who waltzed away to have a smoke beneath the awning outside. He didn't know what to feel, so like all rational men when dealing with women, he had another drink.
The next day was more of the same, except the pair were nursing a hangover. More paper. More notes. More swearing.
Finally, after a week of serious study had passed the pair rejoiced. They had a lead, a serious one. “Looks like you're going to France boyo.” Mary said as she cleaned up her office. “As it happens I'm in need of some perfume so pick me up some yeah?”