CHAPTER 99
Sam let himself in two days after that. He brought flowers, chocolate and news.

“How are the feet?”

“Sore, but it’s the itching that’s driving me up the wall”

“You look like some stupid slapper who fell asleep on the beach at Magaluf, Annie”

“Yeah, well fuck you too, aye? You know where the kettle is, white no sugars”

He grinned and did the honours, coming back with a vase of water for the blooms. He sipped his tea.

“Ah, better. Needed that. Right, you’ll be wanting to know the state of play, then”

“The girls and my man are keeping me up to date on Den. He’s doing well, they say. You still got that little bastard in the bridewell?”

Sam grinned, happily. “Oh yes, we’ve got him under PoT. I know he’s not really a terrorist, but until he coughs up as to why he’s involved with fucking bombs that’s what we are treating him as. Gives us a lot more time to hang onto the little scrote”

He took another sip. “Anyway, wasn’t really our decision, the Met sent down their counter-terrorist lot, and he’s now on his way up to Paddington Green for some serious debriefing. Maximum security, yeah? He’ll need it when Ruthy’s back on her feet. We’ve got him on CCTV at the end of the street, and Naomi is doing her usual trawl of their shop cameras.”

“Who nicked him?”

“Jim, Christina and Nev, in the end, still in bed at home. Mum got gobby, and Tina sprayed her”

“Tina? She’s normally little miss Sunshine, aye?”

“Aye, Annie, she is. Nicked the cow for perverting the course, police assault and no TV licence”

“You what?”

“Pile of TV licence letters by the door, TV playing as they went in, so she assumed…”

He paused. “Yeah, we can laugh at that one, but they have gone too far. The gloves are off in the whole nick, and I think even the stupidest wanker in town will be looking not to upset any of us for a while. This is serious shit now, and the kiddies will be trying to stay out of sight. Speaking of which, he’s sixteen, but by the time we had finished booking him in it looked more like seven. He is one scared little boy, now”

I sat for a while, considering, but Jim still had more to tell.

“Super’s got you down for a commendation, girl. Courage and dedication, you know the score”

“I was off duty, aye?”

“Annie, you of all people should know that in this job you are never off duty. What you did was act as we all wish we would, when the shit flies. What was it gave you the idea of the hose?”

“Dunno, just seemed to make sense at the time, aye?”

“Well, there’s more to it for you, isn’t there? You took all the same shit when you were on the beat, and yet you still pushed it back and did what was needed. No, shut up. Yes, you broke down, and you scared the shit out of all of us, but when it was needed you did what you had to, for us, for Den. We don’t forget things like that, Sergeant Price, so you are going to get your best bib and tucker and go and get your gong, OK?”

There really was no answer I could give to that outburst apart from a slow nod of agreement.

"OK, that’s settled. Den has some more work for the docs to do, getting bits of crap out his back, but he is talking properly now. Say the word and I’ll send a car to take you up there, but make sure you look presentable; I don’t know if Eric’s told you, but the press have a small camp in your street”

He rose to go, and I asked the obvious question.

“Who was it, Sam?”

He looked off into the distance just for a second. “No, love. Not yet. Later, OK? Need to know”

That night, I found out, as the camera crews followed the forced entry teams into properties in Belfast, Ifield and Newcastle. The newsreader was anodyne in the extreme.

“Arrests were made today across the UK as police entered premises in Belfast, Sussex and Newcastle upon Tyne as they pursued enquiries regarding the attempted murder of a Sussex policeman by car bomb. The police officer concerned remains in intensive care, where his condition is described as serious but no longer life-threatening. The nine arrests today bring the total number of suspects now in custody to sixteen, six of whom were already serving prison sentences for other offences”

Could it have been both sets of bastards, in some odd alliance of evil? But what the hell did Belfast have to do with anybody? This was getting silly, and I was tired, and my burns itched, and feet hurt, and Eric was just coming through the front door at long last, and everything was suddenly miles better. A wooden stool in the shower, gentle warmth, and my man to wash my back did a lot to cheer me up.

“They think his spine is going to be OK, Annie. Nothing big hit him there, just lots of crap. He’s been bloody lucky”

The really good thing about showers is that they allow you to cry all over somebody you love without upsetting them. Two weeks later, Den came home, my little soup dragon by his side

Geoff drove me round to visit, an unmarked car keeping pace with us and reminding me that the powers above me were taking this one bloody seriously. There were more coppers in the front room, Chantelle and Ginny fussing round them with tea and biscuits, Darren doing kettle duty in the kitchen. His words rang true, that we were family. This was how things should be, people pulling as one. Shan caught sight of me as I hobbled in, and she did that thing that few pretty girls manage, and made herself beautiful by smiling. Ginny slapped her backside gently.

“Oy, slave! Woman and cycling bloke person need tea! It’ll be back under the stairs with the rats if you don’t move it!”

“Not the rats! Couldn’t I just have the slugs an’ snails again?”

“Nah, you ate all the last lot. I’m not made of slugs, am I?”

Shan giggled and trotted off into the kitchen to her lad, and Ginny gave me a bonecracking hug.

“Do us all a favour, madam, and stop scaring the shit out of us, yeah?”

“Gilbey girl, wasn’t my fault, honest, bigger boys made me do it and the dog ate my homework”

I am sure the lads thought we were insane, especially when Ginny began crying, which brought me on too. I couldn’t seem to stop for long, as the stress gradually eased its grip on my soul.

“Is he upstairs, girl?”

“Yeah, with Kirsty and Steph. Go on up–shit, sorry, want a hand?”

Before I could object, she slipped her arms under me and carried me, like a child or a newlywed, up the stairs to their room. As she lowered me again, she murmured “Thank fuck for your diet”

Den looked ill. What a stupid thing to write, but there it was, the truth. He seemed to have lost half his bodyweight in healing, and Kirsty next to him was nearly as bad. There was a fierceness to her posture, ‘touch my man and die’. He grinned up at me, and I realised he was actually missing a tooth, which must have happened when he hit the ground as the bomb went off.

“It’s my guardian angel! How are you feeling, pet?”

“Fuck, Den, how am I feeling? Me? You’re the one who got blown up!

“Yeah, and who ran across broken glass to a burning car? Kirst told me all about what you did, so no talking bollocks here. Now, are you OK?”

“Ah, mate, feet are taking their time, and my sunburn is peeling, but not too bad. It’s you we’re worried about, aye? What the hell happened?”

“Kirst has heard this a thousand times now, but that’s life. I got up, went out, used the mirror and torch for a check and there it was, right under the driver’s seat. I thought ‘if it’s on a remote I’m fucked’ and all I could do was try and get as far as I could. The boys tell me they had a spotter, some kid, he watches me get into the car and makes a call, and the bomber then rings another number and it goes off. I was supposed to be sitting on top of it”

“Thank fuck you weren’t, aye? How do you feel, though?”

“Ah, Annie, the whole of that side of me is like your feet, all cut to shit, and I had infections and crap and rubbish there. Can you believe you can sprain a spine? And a fractured skull, concussion, all that sort of thing. I only hit the fucking concrete bird bath when I went through the bush, didn’t I? I know who it will have been, though, the bloody Cuthberts”

He lifted his left hand, to which his wife was clinging, and kissed hers.

“Kirsty, love, I am truly sorry all this shit follows me around. I should have made it clearer before I let you get so involved. If you want, I can move out–“

It wasn’t a light slap, and the mark of her hand glowed on his face as she bent over him to kiss it better.

“Not now, not ever, Dennis Armstrong. You have a wife to love and a child to be a dad to. You made your bed, you lie in it.”

She suddenly grinned, and kissed him properly.

“Just expect to have company in it, OK?”