Death in a Far Country by Patricia Hall Page B

was almost total but she hardly noticed as her mind went blank and an even greater darkness overwhelmed her.

    Thackeray was already home when Laura got back from the match, her face flushed and eyes sparkling in a way that set his heart beating faster in spite of the nagging pain in his back.
    ‘Did you hear the result?’ Laura said, peeling off her coat and flinging it on a chair. ‘A one-one draw. The new boy Okigbo got the equaliser right at the end. The crowd went completely mad. I’ve never seen anything like it. Grown men were hugging each other and dancing around. And the singing. You could have heard it in Leeds.’
    ‘You had a good time, then?’ Thackeray said drily. Laura glanced at him and grinned.
    ‘Oh, come on,’ she said. ‘It’s quite an achievement. Everyone thought Chelsea would win eight- or nine-nil. But the Bradfield lads played their socks off. The goalie made six or seven brilliant saves. I don’t know anything about the game, really, but I have to admit it was exciting. The whole town’s going to go bananas until the replay.’
    ‘And when’s that likely to be?’
    ‘Week after next,’ Laura said. ‘Not that I expect an invitation to go to London, but I expect we can watch on the box.’
    ‘I expect we can,’ Thackeray said, and as Laura calmed down she could see that her enthusiasm was washing over himwithout any discernible impact.
    ‘OK, I can see United aren’t going to touch your rugby soul, but I enjoyed it,’ she said, more calmly. ‘Even Tony Holloway gave me a hug on the way out, though he’s furious that Jenna Heywood invited me into her precious directors’ box. I know he thinks it should have been him.’
    She dropped onto the sofa beside him and put a hand tentatively on his.
    ‘How was your day?’ she said. ‘Did you make any progress?’
    ‘Not really,’ Thackeray said. ‘We had a couple of lines of inquiry to follow up, but most of the people we wanted to talk to seemed to be at the match. The African player seems to have built up quite a following in the black community.’
    ‘Well, I suppose he would do,’ Laura said. ‘He’s very good. Jenna’s sure he won’t stay in Bradfield. Some team like Chelsea will snap him up.’
    ‘What nationality is he?’
    ‘Nigerian,’ Laura said.
    ‘Someone suggested the dead girl might be Nigerian, but we’ve no evidence on where she came from yet. But that explains why when Kevin Mower went to the African social club today there was no one there.’
    ‘Well you can meet OK Okigbo tomorrow if you like. Jenna’s invited us to the United celebration party at West Royd, if you feel like going. I think you deserve a bit of time off for good behaviour, don’t you?’
    Thackeray sighed. ‘I need to go into the office again,’ he said.
    ‘The party’s at six. You can do both,’ Laura said. ‘Come on, Michael. You’re not going to get through this inquiry business if you don’t relax occasionally. Go in to work, dowhat you have to do, and then come to West Royd with me. Please?’
    Thackeray shrugged slightly. ‘All right. If it’ll make you happy.’
    ‘Good,’ Laura said. ‘Now, I’m going to call my father and tell him about the game. And then I’ll cook us something good for supper. OK.’
    Before she could move, Thackeray pulled her towards him with unexpected force and kissed her hungrily, and just for a second it seemed to Laura that all the old magic of their affair was about to be rekindled. But just as suddenly he pulled away again.
    ‘An early night?’ Laura whispered.
    ‘Maybe,’ he said, flinging himself back against the cushions, looking drained. ‘I’m shattered.’ Trying to hide her disappointment , she went into the kitchen with the portable phone and dialled her parents’ number in Portugal. It was answered almost immediately by her father’s typically peremptory tone.
    ‘Ackroyd.’
    ‘Dad, it’s me, did you hear the result? I was actually there.’
    ‘I caught it on