CHAPTER 56
I was beside the old Rover at three thirty, the drips sounding like hammer blows, and then awake, knowing I had shouted but not remembering what.

I picked up Eric’s shirt and held it over my face, breathing his scent into me like some life-saving drug, as I cuddled Tabby. Sleep didn’t seem to want to return, so I went into the living room and cranked up my computer, looking for something to read or some mindless programme on the BBC website, until I remembered, and dug out the memory stick Steph had given me, and opened the file of pictures.

There were so many, and I began to realise how self-absorbed I had been that weekend, so caught up with fear and wonder that I hadn’t noticed the cameras. There were shots of all of us, but Steph had clearly taken the output of three or four cameras and arranged the results chronologically.

Lots of pictures of their family fooling around as the Edifice went up, and then it switched to myself and Eric as we turned up, bikes loaded with the bare minimum, and I savoured the views of his legs and his smile. I was surprised to see that my incipient breasts were obvious, at least to my eye, even in my male garb,

Dancing, me with Kelly, and Jan, and playing, including several shots where whichever photographer it was had tried to catch the light through Steph’s hair as it flew out in an auburn curtain, and then myself, lost like Steph in my own world of sound, of air dancing.

Jimmy, and Mark, and someone had caught Kelly’s face at an unguarded moment, as she almost drooled over him, and I resolved to ask Steph what was happening to the two of them. Only a week ago…

Then, I was there, as myself, and there was such a story in the pictures, and I showed Tabby as I went from utter terror in my new clothes to delightful grin in Eric’s arms, and they had caught us from behind as we walked, Eric’s arm round my waist loosely enough that he could squeeze my bum, and they had also caught several snogs, and I missed him horribly just then.

An icon appeared on my instant message screen: ‘Eric has signed in’. His message followed immediately.

--Bad dreams?
--Yeah. What you up for?
--Worried bout you. What you doing?
--Looking at pics from Steph. Want see?
--Yes please. Any embarrassing?
--Loads.
--Nice ones of you? Want one please
--Wait one

There was one that had really caught my eye, where we were sitting at a table in the food tent, a beer before each of us, and somebody had clearly said something clever, for we were both grinning, and he was looking down at my face, or at my cleavage, but at least at me, in my flouncy blouse and headscarf, and the whole thing looked so natural and joyous I could have wept. I sent it over to him and waited for the download to finish.

--Sweet!
--Not sending any more
--Why not?
--Want to look through them with you
--Spoilsport
--Want cuddle
--Want one too

The messages continued, but as they just degenerated into soppiness I don’t need to reveal any more. I did, however, save the conversation. It would be there to replay at other times of need. I did doze a little, but the alarm caught me, and I was quickly on my way to work, for the first of several days and nights without Eric.

They were comparatively quiet, after the drama of the previous week, a mixture of drink drivers, criminal damage, occasional drunken fights, and just the one nasty, which I came into Wednesday morning. A taxi driver had refused a fare, largely because the fare in question was so drunk he had puked in the gutter before hailing the cab, and as no wog was going to speak to a pukka Englishman, like, or rather ‘lahk’, said wog got glassed, in the face. Fortunately for him, two of our more forthright lads weren’t too far away, Pete Costello and Ian Murphy, and I was presented with the damaged goods when I came on that morning.

I got the impression that one or both of them had given him a couple of unapproved techniques to places like the kidneys, but much as I didn’t approve of their actions, I extended no sympathy whatsoever to the piece of shit in cell 5, as the driver was still in the Tandridge ward at the Royal East Surrey having his face returned to him.

Just another day in paradise. I was brought back to my own reality when Sam dropped by.

“The Super will be ready for you in half an hour, mate. Harry is on his way”

Harry Osborne, the Police Federation rep, was with me in five minutes.

“Adam, a clue as to what this is about?”

I can’t do this twice, Harry. “Core values of the Home Office, Harry, that’s all you need to know”

Kirsty was just coming in as we spoke, and she caught me over by the Inspector’s office.

“Annie, you are crapping yourself, and I want to know why, yeah?”

“Bit of personal stuff, aye?”

“Fed rep? Ah, I got it. Who you telling today? You done the skippers, and me, and my Den…shit, you going all official now?”

I just nodded, and she noticed me shudder a little. Her whole tone changed.

“Look, love, you want company? Bit of moral support, like? You are shit scared, aren’t you?”

Oh yes. No Sally, no Steph, no Eric. No Eric. “Ruthy, please, it would be very good of you. Got a meeting with Mr Davenport, aye, and I am just a bit nervous. Big step, it is, and this one would be no going back”

She laughed softly. “Go back? Like fuck you want to, bloody woman in love with a mint bloke, go back my arse. I am coming in with you, my girl, so like it or lump it”

We were at the Super’s door a minute before time, Harry, Kirsty and I, and he opened it himself to invite us in.

“Adam, I knew you were bringing Harry, but Ruth–I mean Kirsty, bit of a surprise. Lovely shiner, by the way, hear you left him a bit swollen”

She grinned. “Well, boss, you know me! I am just here as a friend and support for my Sarge, like, as I sort of know what it’s all about, like”

“OK. I have had some coffee brought in, it should taste better than Jim’s special brew. How do you want to start, Adam?”

Kirsty took my hand, and both Harry and the boss made an ‘ah’ sound, and she noticed and giggled. “Look, boss, this is just moral courage, thingy, yeah?”

Deep breath. “Boss, I have some major issues in my life that have caused me a lot of grief over the years. Not the night horrors, you know about them already, and I really, really appreciate the support you gave me in taking me off the beat. It’s another matter altogether, I just have to find the right way to explain, and it’s not something I can talk about sort of flat, aye?”

Harry was making notes, while Mr Davenport nodded over his tented fingers, looking confused. That was when my black-eyed mini-dragon just snorted.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Sarge” Boss, meet Annie Price, my best girlfriend. Annie, you have got to learn to put yourself forward a bit, otherwise we will be here all bloody day”

Harry bent down to pick up the pen he had dropped, while the boss just said ‘ah’ a couple more times, before gathering his wits and his words.

“Am I to assume that we are looking at a sort of Spectrum issue here? A GBQT type thing?”

Kirsty corrected him. “LGBT, sir”

I completed the joke. “TLGB, to be precise”

His eyebrows raised a long way. “Bloody hell, I have never had to deal with somebody like you before! How amazing!”

“Er, boss, I am still me, and you have ‘dealt’ with me for years, aye?”

“Um, yes, sorry. Annie, was it? Annie, yes. Please, please, a few more details?”

With Kirsty’s support, and the occasional prod from Harry or the boss, I got my story out n a suitably redacted form. At the end, Davenport just sat nodding.

“This man, Eric, he is a good chap? Ah. Annie, I think you have just bypassed a lot of questions with that smile. I assume, therefore, that at some point you will wish to divest yourself of your current, er, persona? Fine, Harry and I can work out a strategy for that. Any ideas, Sergeant Price, Annie?”

“With all due respect, boss, not a fucking clue”

“Fine, fine, plenty to think about. Leave it with us”

We stood to go, and he called us back.

“PC Ellis, just one thing: when are you up for your sergeant’s exams?”

“Er, dunno, boss”

“Well, get them in hand. Can’t have a mere PC draining the precious bodily fluids of Sergeant Armstrong, people are already talking. Bad for discipline. Yes, both of you, that is both of your secrets out. Annie, I thought you were simply gay. Thank you for giving me a much more interesting challenge! Don’t worry, things will be fine. Off you go!”

I rang Eric as soon as I could, Kirsty hugging me as I did so, and he seemed impatient with my news. I wondered what had upset him, and began asking, and he broke in.

“Sorry, Annie, but it could be good news. I have applied for the post of Path Lab manager at Crawley general hospital! If I get it, no more commuting, and no more nights apart from my favourite girl”

I wanted to scream with joy at that, but I simply asked “And how many others have you got?”