CHAPTER 5
Wednesday was my first day back at work, and thankfully it was quiet for an early turn. Den was now back at work, on day shifts and light duties, which at least allowed me to dump odd bits of paperwork on him.

Where would we be without friends? It was an odd time, as that part of the year always is. The weather hadn’t closed in for the end of Summer, but it was still chilly at night. Short sleeves riding under the sun, and woolly hat for later.

Den was still smiling from the weekend. He had lost a lot of weight while laid up, and his uniform hung on him like a child playing dress-up, but the twinkle was back, and occasionally the smile could still do things to my stomach. It was an odd mix of emotions I felt; I fancied him absolutely rotten, which was pure lust, but what I felt for him as a person was what I had tried to make plain to Chantelle. He was family now, and while I really did love the man, it was a completely different breed of emotion. He was my escape, my key to the outside world I had hidden from all my life.

And there was a problem. My life had, so far, consisted of hiding solo in my flat, making sure the alcohol supply was topped up, and in between keeping myself grounded enough to be able to get to and from work. Now, I had more friends around me than I really knew what to do with. I needed a social secretary, it seemed. Eric would do, was my first thought. After all, why keep a dog and bark yourself?

It was difficult, though, because I wanted to see so many different people, from Sarah in Dover to Merry and the family back home, that I couldn’t see myself having a lot of me time. Us time. Definitely us time. How the hell had I survived, even so badly, solo? And the shops were already talking about bloody Christmas. I was turning into my mother in so many ways. She had never really been able to spend any time apart from Dad, and that brought a pang as I realised that despite all the machismo, all the Chapel-driven conformity, they had actually loved each other at least as much as I did Eric.

That sealed my plans. If I could get the time, I would be off home for a while to try and keep the momentum going with my family, and if I could persuade Tony and Sarah we could have the ‘old trout and the monster’ along. And then we could…and there might be space for…back to square one. So many to see, so little time.

Jim stuck his head out of his room.

“Annie, a quick word?”

I popped in, and he was already letting the coffee climb out of the jug into the cup under its own power.

“Got a job for you, Sar’nt Price. How are you with kids?”

There was a teasing glint to his eyes then, as he knew bloody well what was happening in my life.

“why, Jim?”

“Well, you are warned for court in the Old Bailey starting a week from now, for a start”

“Shit, they’re actually getting it rolling?”

“Yes, but don’t expect a long one. I suspect there may be a few guilty pleas on the day.”

“There were none at the P and DH…”

“Take a seat, girl. Woman. Annie. Sod it, you still confuse me, I still hear Adam. Sorry.”

He took a sip, and winced; it was clearly too strong even for an Inspector.

“Look, this is a bit of a high-profile one. You know that, you know who got involved, and you know that they have their own…structures. Those in the loop suspect…fuck it. Shut the door”

I pushed it to.

“Two silly Boys returned a favour to some business partners, because of a vendetta between those partners and Dennis Armstrong. The powers to be objected, and the Powers in this case are not HMG but another set of initials. Two silly Boys have allegedly been told that they either fold, and take their prison term, or they find interment rather than internment, if you catch my drift.”

“Ah. But what about the others?”

“Harton and Petherick were served notice a month ago. Separate incidents, coffee jars. Harton lost an eye. About the same time, Ma had an accident in the showers. There were other…misfortunes. Annie, the Irish are letting them all know they fucked up. Political process my fucking arse”

“What if this gets out?”

“Won’t, will it? Even if it does, the paramilitaries have no association with any political party, do they?”

“Bollocks do they”

Jim grinned. “Yeah, utter bollocks. And you know what? This time, with people like Shan’s grandma involved, I don’t give a fuck. Let the gunmen do all the perverting the course of justice they want, just this once”

“Aye, but why drop their own in it?”

“Makes them look good, Annie. ‘Look at us, on the path of peace, giving up the lawless bombers like the doves of peace we are’. Gives them even more control over their own as well, shows them as even more ruthless than their own side ever suspected. Not nice”

“Shit. So, where does that leave us?”

“We trot along when it gets a day, we walk in, they either plead and we go home, or they don’t and we give evidence at the inquest. Sorry to be that blunt, but the Cuthberts went for a ride on a tiger and it is not in a good mood”

I thought back. “So, what was that about children?”

“I want you out of the station, Annie, just for a while, use some of your publicity, aye? Fuck, you’ve got me doing it now. It’s nothing big, just the school year’s started, and you will be our new community face. Drop in, give the chat, have the photos, Queen’s whatsit on display, all that crap”

“What sort of area, Jim? Me no drive, aye?”

“Your new vehicle is in the yard, Sergeant Price”

I had clocked what I thought he meant. “You are joking, Jim”

“Nope. The Force has bought you a bike. Blue lights and radio mount. Need a cycling proficiency test?”

“With the greatest of respect, piss off Jim. When does this start?”

“Straight after the trial, girl. Look, it’s really a way of letting you have a bit of time to yourself. It has been a heavy period, and I will be honest, I know how you were falling apart before, well, before…before you decided to stop pretending, yeah?”

He reached across the desk and put a hand on mine.

“Bombs, burning cars, too close to what I know you already dealt with. Have a month of fresh air and fresher-faced kids, OK?”

He was right. Eric had woken me a few times as I twitched, forestalling the nightmares before they could properly take flight. A few weeks of riding and talking might make all the difference, and would definitely help get my waistline down. Size 16 was almost in my grasp, and if I could I wanted a 12 for a wedding dress. Cycle those pounds off, girl!

I stepped out and immediately went to the leave list. Trial in a week. Assume guilty pleas rather than suicide notes, then…three weeks. Give Sar a ring, see what Steph is up to, let Elaine know, and Arwel, and Merry…I had so many to think of.

Why can’t life be simple?