CHAPTER 1
Bloody cold and wet, typical bastard weather when I had the stupidity to pick a bloody skirt. I mean, on a stag, in winter, in Wales---I should have known better. I walked as casually as I could back to the car, where Alun would hopefully have had the heater on. He had, and had also killed the interior light so as not to show out so badly when I opened the door.

“What we got, Di?”

“Definitely a meet coming. That’s another vanload of booze just gone in; they won’t want to risk keeping that on site too long”

“Dogs?”

“None there, or at least none that barked at me. Got three vehicles confirmed”

“Blake and Candice are five minutes off. Time to go and warm up, girl”

“Not you out in this in a skirt, is it?”

“Me? Not got the legs for one, have I?”

“Not what that PCSO says, mate. Your turn for the buns, innit?”

“You should pack your own like me”

“You mean like your missus does! Anyway, a dog roll tastes better fresh. Tony’s?”

“Aye, that’d be good. Quiet corners there, let us get our notes up to date. Thank god for car heaters is what I say”

“Polartec and Goretex for me, butt! Anyway, that them?”

My radio crackled just as the driver of the newly-arrived car gave a little nod, just visible through the rain and darkness.

“Golf Kilo three, on plot”

Alun was terse in reply.

“Golf Kilo two one, received. All yours”

Tony’s was a ‘diner’ according to its sign, but a greasy spoon according to our eyes and noses. That didn’t matter, for it was out of the wind and rain, it did pint mugs of tea and a bloody good fry-up. There is a traditional need for coppers worldwide to fur their arteries, and Tony’s was ideal for that. As part of the full ‘diner’ experience, there were ‘booths’ that allowed us a little bit of privacy. The owner clearly knew who and what we were, as he left us alone to get on with our work. He kept odd hours, tucked away near the Pontmorlais car park, to cater for the shift workers and delivery drivers, and I often wondered how and when he ever slept.

“What we got then, Di?”

“Three cars, as I said. One BMW old-style 5-series, the square one, a Volvo 800-series estate and a bloody stupid Yankpanzer”

“A what?”

“Never heard of a wankpanzer?”

“What? What you call a 4x4, innit?”

“Exactly”

“Oh…yeah, right! Which one?”

“Warrior. Bloody stupid name, innit? I mean a Landy would make more sense, and be better, and it’s a pukka military vehicle. Anyway. Pick-up, it is. Volvo’s got a dog gate in it, Beemer’s a soft-top. Oh, there was a P100 parked a little way off. That had a Truckman top, so I couldn’t see in the back. Not sure if it’s associated, but I had a problem with my shoe, so I had to bend down, yeah? Couple of scaffolding poles through the rear suspension, so it’s almost certainly one of theirs”

“Ah. What you think? Give Kent a ring?”

“Aye. I wonder what the ANPR might say there. I think I might drop in and see Chris as well. Can’t hurt”

“You up for April, then?”

“Aye. A wedding’s a wedding, and if I’m daft enough to wear a skirt, then it’s a better excuse than stagging a bloody Merthyr industrial estate. And put that bloody look away!”

“Sorry, love. I know. Just, well, still a bit off, back of my mind, see? Still got the Parch sitting there shouting about abominations”

“Well, you should know better”

He looked down at the steam rising from what was left of his tea, picking up a scrap of bacon that had escaped his roll and taking his time half-chewing, half-sucking at it before speaking again.

“Aye, I should. After all that, well, no excuse, is it? Just, well, nobody comes without a past, do they? Mine’s still got a few little claws in me”

Yes. The past still held us to it with little hooks and thorns, and I should indeed be a woman who knew that. A moment of trust, before the handful of hair pulled me into the car as the threat of the knife cowed me. The smell of the booze on his breath would certainly never leave me, nor the sound of his grunting as he tore into me.

Nor would I ever be able to forget the hospital, and my visitors, and never, ever, would I be free of that particular memory, the warmth of his piss on my back as he cleaned out ‘the spoodge’.

“Di? You OK?”

“Sorry, butt. Memories, innit? Spot on, you were, about the past and that, so let’s make it a brighter future”

“Fuck, girl, you been reading fridge magnets again?”

“Love you too, you tosser. Now, are YOU up for April?”

He looked straight at me this time. “Yes. Yes, I am, and so’s the missus. She said, ages ago, I take a long time to find out who my real friends are, and she says that Chris is one I should keep, and if it needs us to go to a fairy wedding to prove it, well, so be it”

“And whose turn of phrase was that one?”

“Er, well. She says something about fairy-tales, and I says no, just fairies, and it stuck. Anyway, he IS a bloody fairy!”

I laughed, and we spoke in unison: “But he’s OUR bloody fairy!”

He took another sip. “This lad, Di? He a good one?”

“Chris thinks so. You’ve met him, anyway, at the Christmas bash”

“Aye, I know, but that was just in passing, innit? Anyway, what the fuck do we do about a stag night? I mean, two stags?”

I started to laugh at that one, the memories of that night with Evans Senior scuttling off to the dark, small-hours place they usually hid in.

“Got no idea, have I? But we both know a woman who will!”

“Bloody hell, aye! Can’t be that much difference for dykes”

“Hint to self: enrol colleague on correct and appropriate terminology course”

“You going to give her a ring, then?”

“Got a family day in a couple of weeks, job allowing”

“Ych, not for me. Too many kids in one place for my liking”

“Ah, not a problem. They have a sort of netting play tent thing. If the weather’s fine we just zip them up in it in the back garden”

“What, so they all play nicely together?”

“Not at all. We stream live video footage and take bets on baby cage-fighting over the internet”

“You can’t be serious for long, can you?”

“Trust me when I say I can. Anyway, my notes are up to speed, tea’s cold, rolls are eaten. Get back and make those calls?”

“Sounds like a plan. Just need to stop by the shops on the way back for a few bits. This little job is getting in the way of a decent supermarket run”

I looked harder at him once more, and the shadows were darker in his eyes.

“Alun, aye? Things OK? The missus? Lynne?”

“Oh, love, no, not really. We saw the quacks again last week, and it’s not a good time. We’ve been putting a bit aside for this, and I think I’m likely to be a bit short for a while. Looking at electric wheels now. NHS can’t fund it at the moment, so we’ve been saving, innit? Give her a little more independence”

I tried a joke. “Let her out of the house and she might catch you with that PCSO”

He stood up, zipping his jacket. “Come on, soonest started back, aye?”

Not another word from him till we were both sat in the car, and then he turned to me, and I realised he was crying, the tears lost in the rain until we were in shelter.

“Di, love, you think she doesn’t KNOW about Cerys? It was her bloody idea!”

“What? Your wife sent you out shagging?”

“NO! No…”

He turned away, checking seat-belt, mirrors, seat position, the whole lot, before looking back at me.

“I was never a shagger, girl. Never one who could go out on the pull, at least not and get it to work, innit? Lynne and me, well, just one of those things. Always fancied her in school, just never got round to it, or never got the nerve for it. She and me, well, school reunion, innit, and we start talking about teachers, and practical jokes, and who was knocking off who, and that time Mr Purvis caught two of the prefects having a knee-trembler, and, well, I sort of admitted I’d never, you know, got anywhere, and she sort of smiled and said the same, and… And it was one of the best days in my life, and everything else, everything afterwards, it was right, and proper, and healthy”

“Alun, love, I know it’s not easy for you both, but…”

“Cerys was her idea, Di. Not the girl exactly, but someone who could give me what Lynne couldn’t any more. No. not right to put it that way. I’m fond of the girl, and she seems happy, and if she wasn’t I’d stop straight off, but originally, yes. It was Lynne’s suggestion”

“I’ve done some reading, Alun, on CFS and ME, once you told us”

“Oh, Di. That’s not it. It’s not ME, it’s not chronic bloody fatigue bloody syndrome. She’s got MS”