CHAPTER 55
There was no real reason to spend any more time with Elaine, and despite the fact that the Barracloughs had followed Annie’s lead in setting up a raft of tents in the back garden, the house was absolutely groaning at the seams. Blake and I still had our responsibilities to paid employment to fulfil, and to be honest, the more I watched Elaine and Siân locking soppy eyes with their children, the more I missed my own boy.

I even missed the bloody cat, of all things. While I would never want to wake up without my husband beside me, there was the extra delight of a purring lump headbutting me in a not-so-subtle hint that his breakfast might be served.

I could, however, live without his winter habit of slipping beneath our duvet and sticking four freezing pads against my naked back, the little ginger sod.

So we packed our bags, said goodbye to the Powells and Halls and Barracloughs, and I then spent rather a long time swapping close bodily contact with the Johnsons.

I couldn’t help it. The more I saw of Annie as opposed to Adam, the more Right she became to me, and just as I had warmed to Adam, I clicked with ‘his’ reality as a woman. My feelings for Eric had started out as appreciation for his support of my old friend, but the more I saw of him, the more I saw of the man himself as opposed to him as an accessory to Annie, the more I saw a man worth knowing.

It wasn’t just his devotion to his wife, but the unthinking way he gave of himself when needed. Mam’s words were there, as ever: one of the good ones. He got a solid hug as we left, along with some Words of Advice about looking after her. Well, I had to keep my reputation as a Hard-Bitten Copper up, didn’t I?

I really doubt he was fooled.

So, there we were, rolling along the M4 towards our own place, and of course I got the full session from DC Sutton, B.

“Stuff you can talk about, love, or not?”

“What do you mean?”

“In short? Lot of time spent with Eric, saying goodbye”

“Yeah, well, good bloke”

“And Steve. With the Moto Guzzi”

“Ah”

“Di, love?”

“Yes, love?”

“Keep that word in mind, aye? You do know I love you, don’t you?”

“Bloody hell yes, my darling!”

“Well, that means I can keep my mouth shut. What is it…”

He stopped speaking for a moment, as his usual smooth driving took us past a Norbert Dentressangle lorry and back into the left-hand lane. When he spoke once more, his voice was so soft I had to strain to hear him.

“Joe Evans, love. That was the beater. Description, motive, opportunity, fuck’s sake, we do what we are bloody supposed to, REQUIRED to, and he is toast, him and his whole family. Are we doing that?”

I started to waffle, and he cut me off.

“No, love. I have heard you when you mutter, aye? ‘Police, professional’. Is that where we are?”

I tried again, and once more he closed me down.

“No. I know what your answer is, and mine is the same, so we leave it there, but there’s still a question to answer, and don’t look at me like that. You chose to marry a copper, what did you expect?”

That time I found my voice.

“What question, love?”

“Your reaction was in two parts. You saw him, and I watched you go ‘Oh fuck, Joe Evans’. Then you did another leak, when you heard his name. What’s that about?”

Shit. I sat silently for a few seconds while Blake, true to his way, waited patiently for me to speak. I weighed it over, and then simply saw Eric before me. Shared, everything. With a silent apology to Ellen, I began.

“Someone I know, love. In short, same sort of grooming nastiness that got Paula shot, same sort of drug-dealing. Someone lost a family member, the shooter died later of an OD”

“Surname Barraclough?”

I swallowed the ashes in my throat, with some difficulty.

“Yes”

“Then that’s enough. Being a junky or a nonce isn’t bloody genetic, you know”

I started to giggle.

“I offer you the Evans family, m’Lud!”

He snorted.

“Oh, fuck off, in the nicest possible way! No. Matter closed. You know what?”

“What?”

“Pig and his old lady. We’re talking about class, aren’t we? Not some old bullshit about honour and that, but proper right, wrong and being there for mates, so we agree, aye? Leave it to settle, and buy Steve a beer when we can”

I nodded, but his eyes were, as ever, on the road. I sorted my words.

“Love?”

“Aye?”

“Just thinking, isn’t it? The name. That family Jon and I met, the Dad was called Steve. Obsessed bastard, but such a loving father. So much shit in his life, but there he was, devoted as all hell to his family. Is it something about that name?”

For once, I got a sideways flick of his eyes, and a grin.

“Na. Can’t be. Your Dad’s called Mark!”

He was driving. I had to wait until we were parked outside Mam and Dad’s before I gave him the snog he deserved.

I had rung ahead, so along with the shouts of “Mam! Mam!” we got a decent cuppa along with the grilling. Just as Mam was hitting her stride, demanding eye colour (aren’t they all blue?) and birth weight, Blake held up his hands, one of which held a Welsh cake.

“Enough, Dot! Two happy mothers, two healthy kids, and more friends and family around them than their house can cope with. And yes: Annie and this one hit it off, and everyone’s happy, and Stuff!”

He then dropped his arms, and with the free hand reached across to take my mother’s.

“And, as always, thank you for being you, and for always being there when we need you. Now, we will sup up, collar the two wild beasts and get off home. I think I would like to remind Rhodri Adam Sutton where his home is, and hopefully life will calm down a bit for us all”

Dad was chuckling.

“Taken as it was meant, son! Oh, and he has new wellies. The old ones were a bit small, and we’ve had rain, and there were puddles, and there are traditions to be upheld”

I watched my husband’s face as my father said that word. There was no twitch, no more than there would have been if he had been driving, but I still knew. Stuff Police, Professional: this was Wife, Loving.

Back home, the usual basic shopping put away and all corners sniffed for intruders, and that was just by Rhod, as our own kettle heated. Blake brought our bags in while I began the task of stripping and making the beds. The linen would feel so much nicer fresh than stale, and with that thought I realised I was turning into my mother. Rhod wanted to help, which actually worked with the fitted sheets we used rather than having to do hospital corners, although he still tried to fold the things about. In the end, after I made it a ‘stretching game’, we got the paterfamilias up to do the duvet covers. That was, of course, purely because of the length of his arms and not because I was fed up with finding myself standing inside the duvet cover without the quilt itself.

Small person delivered to nursery in the morning, we made our return to our other home, Blake entrusted with a memory stick and encumbered with a carrier bag full of cakes. Absence from work comes at a price, and we were determined to avoid the secondary penalty of incessant nagging that would have descended on us without such preparation. Candice, naturally, was first to spot us.

“Oh look what the cat dragged in!”

Blake set his load down by the urn.

“Cat’s at home. Not up to dragging; tired and shagged out after a long miaow. This is all shop-bought as well. Not up to Gemma’s standards, but take it or leave it”

He eased his comments by wrapping her in a huge hug, as she giggled happily.

“Urn is hot, you two. Sammy’s in late today, car problem, so save the details till we’re all in? Don’t want to be bored by you twice”

We were most definitely home.

Sammy was in an hour later, dirt under his fingernails from whatever he had been forced to do with his car, and the grin we received was entirely non-feral. Jon busied himself slicing cake, but only after checking his phone several times. I understood that hesitation only when Lexie walked in, a scarf knotted around her head but a grin as wide as Sammy’s beneath it. Blake nodded to me, and held up his memory stick. He had already fired up the Death By Powerpoint projector.

“Boys and girls!”

Pause for the laughter that inevitably followed.

“I have here some pictures of two little people, as well as of a few larger ones. I did two copies on a couple of these widgets; this one can stay in our team files, so we can remember what this job is about and who we do it for, and we don’t just mean Elaine. Now…”

He started our slide show, and the happy cooing sounds were not restricted to the women,

“We have two new recruits here. This one is Anthony Kevin Twm, and this one… This one is Sioned Angharad Sarah”

Ellen called out the first question.

“Which one is Lainey’s?”

Blake just shook his head, grinning.

“Both of them, mate, and both are Siân’s too, and that is all anyone needs to know”

There was a little muttering at that, but I noticed that Ellen’s own response was a single firm nod. She knew our old boss as well as anyone on the team, and I suspect she had already known the answer when she asked her question. Blake continued through the pictures, introducing Lainey’s parents, sister, uncle and so on and then running back over some of the pictures, particularly of the New People. Cake was eaten, tea was drunk, and then he held up his hands for attention and silence.

“Now, before I show these next pictures, I need to ask a question or two. Who remembers TC Adam Price?”

Only three hands went up, and Blake nodded.

“OK. Now, who remembers that bombing recently, over in Crawley? One of our own badly injured in it?”

Every hand up this time, and my man paused for a few seconds as he clearly pondered his next words.

“Who is aware of the link between Adam and that bombing?”

The team were whispering and exchanging glances and nods at that one, before every hand went up. Alun acted as spokesman.

“I think we all do, Blake. Transition they call it, isn’t it? Adam is now Annie? I mean, we could hardly miss that one, what with the bloody tabloids trying to fuck him… her over. Hell, all she did was what we’d all hope would be our reaction, isn’t it?”

He looked around the room, eyes lingering on Lexie, then shrugged.

“It’s what the Job is. If you are an honest copper, you run towards, not away, and all you’re thinking is, well, shit, how much is this one going to hurt?”

Suddenly, his gaze went to me, then back to the picture on screen, where Lainey was sitting in an armchair with little Anthony held to her breast.

“Except, that is, if you are called Sutton or Powell, and then the question is ‘how much is this going to hurt someone else?’, if you take my meaning!”

That brought the tension-easing laughter, and then he waved at the screen.

“I remember Adam. They were always someone to run towards the nastiness, and it nearly killed them. From what I can find out, for I always have my sources, they weren’t doing that well in England. I don’t think that’s true now, is it, Di? That’s the point here. She was at Elaine’s place, wasn’t she? Bloody pronouns are getting complicated. He, they, she…”

He shook his head, then stared at me again.

“I am going to fly a kite here, girl. Most of the nick knew you had the hots for Adam-as-was. I have been watching your tells, and they look relaxed, so I am going to leave it at one question. Is she happy?”

Blake chuckled.

“See for yourself, mate!”

He clicked through a couple of shots, neither of which showed Annie alone, making the sneaky comment “As you can see, she likes cuddling up to married people. Those are my wife, and her husband”

He got the laughter, but Alun’s smile dropped. His next question showed me how deep he was, how little I really knew him.

“So she’s straight, then. That man: is he a decent sort, or will there need to be words at some point?”

The whole team fixed him in place with their stares, and he turned to check the door.

“Some of you know what she went through as a Traffic Officer. I know you do, Di, because you were always popping into the hospital after she got rammed. What you don’t know, and what I am not telling you, is what my old boss Harry let slip, so this is to stay in this room, aye? Aye?”

He got the nods, and his mouth twisted.

“We are lucky here, on this team, and sometimes we forget it. Sammy, not swelling your head, isn’t it, but we had Lainey, and she is a proper leader, and when she had to step down, I was really worried about who would slide into her seat. You? You would have been my first choice, but there were others…

“Lainey was at one of Adam’s, Annie’s, worst incidents. It was just before he got his… Shit. I am not doing this right. It was just before Annie got her sergeant’s, and Elaine was at the site. I read her statement for the investigation, and it was a real horror show. Mother survived, baby in the middle of the road, still in its seat. Right through the fucking windscreen, right past Mummy’s head. That is what Annie had to deal with, what Elaine saw”

He turned his stare onto me.

“Barry and Bryn were at that one as well, love. They won’t talk about it. Adam, Annie, she sorted out what was needed, held it together till the back-up arrived, ambulance, fire crew, then lost it. Barry says it was lid off, bum on Armco, and tears. We had some jumped-up little fast-stream wanker at the time, and he set up a file on Annie. Wanted them out. A successful disciplinary to look good in his CV. Lack of moral fibre or some other bollocks, and that is what I meant about running towards things rather than away”

A swallow of his tea that clearly hurt him.

“He set up a file, and gave my old boss the job of checking the t’s and I’s, and Harry showed it to me before telling the twat to fuck off and die. I spoke to B and B about it, stuff confidentiality with shit like that, and I suspect one or both of them might have had their own private chat with the turd. Moved off to Avon and Somerset after that, and Harry burned the file. I watched him do it”

Eyes back to Blake.

“So, from what I can gather, our old friend runs barefoot over broken glass towards bombs. This husband of hers better be worth her”

My own husband just smiled, but there was softness and warmth in it.

“Eric is, mate. He most definitely is”