The wind bellowed in his ears as Barry made his way back to the station. The dark, spindly trees arched over him, shielding him from the morning sun. He was dressed impeccably in his blue-collared uniform and trousers, but inside, he was shaken from what he had seen the night before. The gravel chuckled underneath his footsteps, as though it were mocking him for his cowardly exit the night before.
He was on his way to talk to Jasper. It had been a good few years since they had last see each other but Barry remembered it like it was yesterday.
He pushed through the door and sat on his chair in the interrogation room, the seat opposite him was empty and he could feel the steely glare from the mirror, biting away at his inner confidence. He couldn't afford to end this in tears. Slowly, he gave a nod to the mirror, watching carefully as his reflection nodded back, his gaze a little sterner than he had expected.
Through the white door in the corner, Jasper sauntered in. He had his hands in his pockets, looking as though he was casually strolling into a cafe for his morning muffin. Dressed in a flannel shirt with the top two buttons undonde and ripped blue jeans, a sly smirk dominated his bronze face as he looked at Barry. Barry felt every inch of skin writhe under Jasper's stare. It took everything in him not to hurl himself at Jasper and beat him senseless. Instead, he summoned a Herculean amount of self control and sat motionless, smiling back at him.
'Long time no see, B?' Jasper says. By now he had dropped onto the seat, his elbows on the table, leaning into Barry. Barry could smell the scent of cedarwood that radiated off of Jasper. It should have been a pleasant smell. But it wasn't. It instantly took Barry back to his wife, she always liked the scent...
'Yeah it's been a couple of years, Jasper.' Barry replied nonchalantly.
'Right B, let's cut the croissant, why am I here?' Jasper said, looking exasperated now.
'You know very well why you're here.'
'Is this about Clara? Cuz I swear, Barry, I got nothing to do with her.'
Barry winced at the mention of her name. He missed her. But he knew he shouldn't. She was dead. But not before shredding Barry's heart into jagged shards of glass.
'It's not -' Barry's voice rose to almost a yell, '- about Clara.'
Barry took a deep breath before continuing.
'Do you know about Joana Ellis?' Barry said. His words came out measured and slow. he forced each syllable through gritted teeth.
At this point, Jasper's eyes darkened and he leaned back. He swung one leg over the other and hid his mouth beneath his callused hand. He though about it for a few minutes. Barry could see the gears and cogs of his mind working overtime, Jasper gazed at one of the table's legs until finally looking Barry directly in the eye. The cheeky demeanor had disappeared. Jasper sat there solemnly, his eyes expressionless and dark. His eyebrows furrowed in concern and his lips thinned into a fine line of pink. Barry was certain he knew something.
'Yes. Why?' Jasper replied carefully.
'Tell me everything.' Barry said demandingly.
'She... was an old friend-' Jasper began.
'Lover' Barry interjected. He knew what Jasper was.
Jasper grimaced but nodded, correcting himself.
'- lover. I had been with her after Clara... well... you know... and she was wonderful. I was totally infatuated by her - she was just so warm and kind and lovely.' Jasper said, smiling involuntarily as he reminisced.
'She was younger than me -'
'How much younger?' Barry butted in once more. This time, he was met with a scowl from Jasper.
'Jeez I was just getting there - I was thiry-four and she was nineteen.-'
Barry gasped. His eyes widened as he stared at Jasper with newfound determination for his case.
'-She was young, she kept me feeling....I dunno...' Jasper wavered as his thoughts dragged him away.
'Alive.' Barry said, bringing him back.
'Yes exactly.' Jasper replied, amazed. His gaze fixed at Barry now, his eyes deep in the honey of wonder.
'Carry on.' Barry said sternly.
'It was bound to happen really - I could never be as happy as she was and I couldn't possibly keep her from living - she met someone new. He was around her age. A young man by the name of Finn Wordsworth. He worked at Ray's Coffee Shop, just around the corner from here actually.'
'She left you. And you went after her, didn't you?' Barry said bitterly.
Jasper looked at him pointedly.
'No. No, I didn't go after her. I stayed away.' Jasper replied bluntly.
Barry looked at him, his incriminating stare did nothing to make Jasper duck his head in shame. Jasper simply stared back at him, eyes levelled and steady. Both men had their elbows on the desk now, leaning into each other as though preparing to fire.
'So what happened to Joanna?' Barry said, as he leaned back.
'That's all I know, B. I haven't heard from her since and I reckon won't hear from her again.' Jasper said and retreated back into the chair.
As Jasper stared at his cuticles, Barry lit up.
'Can you describe Finn Wordsworth?' Barry said with the full measure of authority he had.
'Oh sure - he was a young boy. White. Ginger hair. He was tall and gangly.' Jasper recalled.
Barry noted this down discreetly. He would ask Jasper to report to the police sketch artist for a full picture.
***
Barry was tired as he drove home. His crumpled uniform saw him work strenuously today, sorting through paperwork. Now as he drove, he had just one more stop to make.
Armed with a copy of the police sketch, he had to go to Ray's Coffee Shop. Plus he hadn't eaten anything since his morning muffin so he reckoned he would have supper there too.
It was a dimly lit little shop. But it felt wonderfully warm, The smell of freshly baked croissants wafted into his nostrils and lured him inside. An involuntary smile graced his face as the unfamiliar smell of the shop felt nostalgically familiar. Like that smell that smells like childhood and happiness and being completely carefree and without responsibility and the crushing brutality of growing up and learning that one day you must fend for yourself. The smell of cinammon.
He pushed through the doors and the smells amplified. He glided forwards to the counter. The place wasn't too packed. It was rather empty. There, he spotted Joanna.
She was making her way out the exit so she didn't really see him. She watched as her golden brown locks bounced behind her. Her eyebrows furrowed and her nose scrunched in the cold, tainting her elegant face. She was beautiful, and as much as Barry hated to admit it, she reminded her of his Clara.
A voice cleared its throat and Barry was snapped out of his Joanna-induced trance. It was from the shopkeeper. Barry hurriedly put in his order.
