Wednesday January 2, 1985; one of the coldest days of the year. That’s what the weather forecaster said. So bad the canal froze over. Pity the poor narrow boaters living surrounded by ice and frost and snow. Karen smiled as she trudged along the towpath. The smoke curling up from the boat chimneys made her think of her and Rod that Christmas. A weekend to remember! It’s warm enough inside one of those barges if you’ve got a hot stove going and your snuggled up in bed with your lover drinking hot coffee laced with lots of whisky.  

Hartley Town Hall clock struck 7. She would be late for work. The path was too treacherous to run or even stride. One false move and she would slip into the canal. Taking the short cut was a bad idea! But last night had been so good and she didn’t want to get up and she had left it all to the last minute. One more late arrival at Riddles and she would get the sack.

Karen stopped and shivered, looking around to see if there was any way she could leave the towpath and get onto the lane above. But that would mean clambering up a steep, frosty embankment; an even more treacherous option than the one she was already taking. She sighed and continued. Apart from the crunch of her boots underfoot, there was no sound, no birds, no boats, no barking dogs; nothing.    

She tried to be bolder. Taking short strides but moving faster. The clock struck the quarter. The mill was in the distance now. Karen thought she could see movement by the factory gates. Why hadn’t she gone to bed earlier? There was no other choice: she had to run and risk slipping. At first, she trotted, but as her confidence grew, began jogging, then, seeing the end in sight, broke into a run. She would make it, with time to spare. Except the ice by lock gate number 5 was black. Karen slid forward then rolled over, hitting her head on the paving stones.

‘Bloody hell!’

Karen lay there for a few moments, conscious but unable to move. The blurs in her vision gradually cleared. Her head hurt so much! She could not speak. Then boots: she saw boots walking towards her. The crunching sound of her murderer’s steps was the last thing she would ever hear.

*****

Georgie Ellis was excited. The first cold case; and what a big one it was. The Towpath Murders. She wasn’t even alive when they had been committed, though she had read all about them during her training. And now she was on the new unit that Chief Constable Samson had set up to solve crimes like this. She knew Samson didn’t like her, but Don – Superintendent May – would have spoken for her; probably insisted on having her on the team.

The BMW Z4 was in good voice as Georgie Ellis drove into Holme Hill. The car cornered like a dream. Thank God Tiggy was well settled with Tristan Bishop and didn’t need to borrow it. Much as she loved her sister, Georgie was eternally relieved that she had moved out of the flat, taking her three kids with her. Peace reigned again. And yet, there was now a silence and a loneliness about the place that made her wish there was someone special in her life. One day perhaps, when, as Tiggy would say, she least expected it.

Donald May’s house was at the end of a swish drive of superior executive residences, as Charlie Riggs called them. ‘Wish I could afford one of these’ he would say. Georgie would just smile and roll her eyes at him. Dear Charlie, with his wife and her new kitchen. Such domestic bliss! That was not something for an ambitious, newly-promoted Detective Sergeant. But what of her boss? What did he want out of life? The promotion to Detective Super had come as a surprise, especially given the battles that he seemed to have with Samson, but May had accepted willingly. Everybody noticed the spring in his step now we was in charge of the Cold Case Unit.

Georgie saw him at the front room window. He waved. Should she get out of the car and go to the door or just wait for him? She stayed put, watching as he kissed his wife goodbye and walked to the Z4 without a backward glance.

‘Morning Georgie’.

‘Morning sir. How are you this morning?’

 May laughed. ‘As well as can be expected for the father of a lad who has just broken up with his girlfriend!’

‘Oh no! I thought Freddie was settled with Camilla! Or was it Vanessa’.

‘Truth is Georgie, I am never sure with those twins. Still, he is old enough to sort his own problems out. And I’ve said that to him. Let’s get on with this away weekend!’

Georgie Ellis put the Z4 into gear and zoomed off faster than she intended, nervous and excited in equal measure.                        

Catherine May stood at the doorstep watching, pleased for her husband, with his new job and his beloved team. As she turned to go back inside, she noticed a second car start up and speed off in the same direction. Nothing to it, she thought.

****

 Pauline Philbey started at the gin bottle. ‘Perhaps just a quick one before I set off?’

Boris meowed at her reproachingly.

‘Perhaps not. Bye my lovely. Your Daddy will feed you, I’m sure. And I will be back on Monday, so it’s only four days. The time will pass so quickly’.

Pauline Philbey turned to the lounge. Harry was snoring peacefully underneath his copy of Friday’s Hartley Observer.

‘Don’t forget to feed the cat Hal!’

No reply; just louder snoring.

Philbey smiled. Who would have thought she would be a DBE, with a peerage in the offing for all her work? What an end to a career!

And yet the career was not yet over. Quite the opposite. Donald May had called her a pain in the bum at times, but she had come into her own in recent cases with her forensic analysis of documentary evidence and couldn’t be left out of something as important as the work of a cold case unit. She still didn’t like Jean Samson much, even though the invitation to join the unit had come from the Chief Constable herself. Still, it would be Don, Charlie, and Georgie she would be working with, not the CC.   

Pauline Philbey shut the front door quietly. Boris came through the cat flap and followed her to the front of the drive but no further. As she got into her car, she looked at the folder on the front passenger seat. ‘The Towpath Murders’ it read. ‘I remember those when they happened. I even think I know who did them; not that I could prove it back then. But times have changed!’   She laughed and started the car.