CHAPTER 47
I showered early the net morning, as I heard the strangulated sounds of a sleeping Ginny in the other room. I never saw any sign of ear plugs near Kate, and I could never understand how she was able to sleep so soundly as the world’s population of marine mammals surfaced around her.

Eric was also still asleep, and I watched the water flow down over my painted toenails with apprehension. Dennis, now he was a fixture at the nick, was covering a full slot in the roster, so I had no moral support at the desk. He would be finishing nights as I arrived, so I would be taking his handover, and that would be all I would see of him.

I patted myself dry before starting the ritual, and squeezing into a T-shirt style sports ‘support’ that flattened what I had to quite an extent, but more importantly gave my nipples relief from friction. Much as I had enjoyed the last couple of nights, I had ended up wearing a soft vest for the rest of the last one as everything was just too tender. No knickers, as I was getting into lycra, but I stuck a clean pair into my saddle bag for work. Pale blue with daisies, sod it.

It was light outside, this far into Summer, and after a quick cuppa and a peck on his sleeping cheek I was onto the bike and spinning over to the nick. Dennis had the night-shift eyes, that look that shows the owner feels as if they are looking down two tunnels with a pair of pickled onions, as I walked in still wearing my kit.

“Nowt in to worry about, Adam. Just the one drunk on regular check, he’ll be out for the morning bench. You off to get changed? I’ll do the rest of the handover at the lockers.”

I went to mine and after opening it and taking out my clean shirt I pulled off the cycle top, and Dennis went “Ah” as he saw my support. The knickers drew another one, and as I fastened my belt and adjusted the shirt he was nodding.

“I wasn’t sure at first, you know. The more I saw of you, the more it made sense, but now…well, Annie, just watch your fucking back, reet? There are people in this job who can be a bit traditional, aye?”

“Was that what it was like up North?”

“Aye, traditional as all hell, like, traditionally bent. It was a culture, in that nick, like fucking bacteria, that sort of culture, and you either got infected or you got got. Your trouble is going to be like that: let one bigot get a head of steam up, pal, and it will pull others along. I’m off home, you watch yourself. If you need me, call, OK?”

“Thanks, Dennis”

“Sergeant Price, that wasn’t an offer, it was an instruction. Any shit, you call me out, got it?”

“Got it”

I went to hug him, forgetting, and he pulled away sharply. He was right, I needed to be far more careful. Back in Custody, Jim was settling in for the day, and I got the usual “Sergeant, a word, please”

In his office, Jim was a bit awkward, not seeming to know where to look.

“That was one hell of a photo, Annie…where did those, em, you know…”

“Breasts? A mixture of hormones and a byproduct of incipient morbid obesity, Jim”

“And, er….?”

“A rather strong sports support, Jim, like a T-shirt, no straps to show under the shirt.”

“Thank fuck for that. We still need to prepare our ground. That bloke, he is OK with all this?”

“Eric? He is more than OK with it, Jim. He is one of the reasons things are moving on”

“Oh gods, whatever happened to the certainties I grew up with”

“They were never there, Jim, just covered up better. We have always been here, just not recognised a lot of the time”

“ ‘We’?”

“Yeah…I am sort of finding out there are a few of us about, aye?”

“Well, whatever, as my grandchildren would say. I have arranged a meeting next week with the Federation rep and the Chief Super, are you up to that? I thought if we got the bigwigs on side it might make the plod easier. How do you want to play this?”

“Jim, as far as my friends are concerned, I am out as myself full stop. The only place really left is work. Now, I will be letting things change bit by bit, like letting my hair grow out, but I am not coming in one Tuesday morning in a skirt, aye? I am just in two minds, yeah? Should I slowly change until even the thickest PCSO can’t miss it, or would it be better to have a big announcement to the whole relief each shift?”

“Annie, hang fire on that last one, all right? Let’s get the groundwork prepared before we go any further, get management and so on on side. Just one thing would be sensible, and that would be your bog arrangements”

“Ah”

“This is me being the skipper, yeah? You will not use the ladies’, and if possible not the gents’, either. The cubicle by custody will be the safest. Sounds petty, but if and when this gets out you will be looked at under a microscope, and the slightest hint of perving will be seized on. You are determined to grow your hair, aren’t you?”

I grinned. “Sort of a symbol, isn’t it? Like tits”

He sighed. “Tits growing on my best male sergeant is no fucking symbol, Annie, more like painting a target on himself. I still remember that jumper we had, as I bloody well know you do, and THAT mood is still out there”

He looked very hard at me, and there were all sorts of things in his face, tiredness, pain, and a deep resolve.

“That does not happen on my watch again, Sergeant Price. My foot patrols and panda crews do not let someone be hunted down like a fucking dog on my manor, and it certainly does not happen to one of my team, ever again. That is my word on it”

I took a risk, and reached out for his hand, and he let me take it, not as a handshake, but as a comfort.

“Jim, poor Melanie was alone, and I am not. That is the difference, and you are part of it, so thank you. What sort of coppers are we if we can’t handle a bit of a challenge, aye?”

He nodded, and I left for my desk. I could still see the pain in his eyes, and yet again was shown that the sort of death that had taken a lonely girl off a motorway bridge was like a rock thrown into a millpond. The ripples spread and hit so many other people. Up to that point, I hadn’t realised how personally he took such events, and I remembered Ginny’s comments about trains and ruining the lives of their drivers. My own damage had locked me in so tightly I was missing that done to others.

Kirsty was in that morning, arriving just as I sent the drunk on his way through the tunnel to the court, and she had my little friend Darren with her again.

“Found this one lifting at the cheapo sports shop n the Martletts, Sarge”

He stood in front of the desk, smaller than he should have been for his age, dead eyes set in darker circles, looking squarely at the camera, as Ruth produced a carrier bag of mismatched bits and pieces, including a trainer for a left foot, a pair of swimming goggles, a cover for the handle of a badminton racquet, and one or two other items of no real use other than to get him arrested. The shop is one of a chain, and where possible they take space on a first or second floor, so that anyone who triggers the theft alarms still has a flight of stairs to get down before they get to the security guards. Utterly realistic about shoplifting, they are, and very profitable as a result. Darren had been on what looked like a suicide run. I booked him in, and sent Kirsty off to do the paperwork.

“Getting a bit shaggy, Sarge! I’m supposed to be the shaggy one here, nyahahaha!”

She disappeared, still laughing at her dreadful pun, and I took the young man down to his cell myself. What the hell, I thought, and after putting him in I sat down on the bed for a chat.

“Son, you going to be shitting in my cell again?”

He looked away, checking the walls for graffiti, it seemed. “Prolly, Sarnt Price, iss sorta tradishnul, innit?”

“Yeah, I know, and I know why you do it where you do. I just don’t understand why you spend all this time and effort getting out of the home when with a bit less kiting and lifting you could be at a less secure place and get out when you want. You know, proper foster parents type thing”

“Gotta keep me rep up, innit? Look, Sarnt, this an interview, lahk, shunt I have lahk my brief here, yeah?”

“No, Darren, this is just me trying to be a bit nicer to you, just as a human being, not as the filth, aye?”

There was something more in his eyes, something dark, and the suspicions reared up in my mind. “Darren, is anyone hurting you there?”

The look away said it all, and I shuddered, remembering Jim’s words about things not happening on his watch.

“Son, can you do me a favour? I need to get the appropriate adult in, as you know, but would you be OK if I got you looked at by a doctor? If someone’s hurting you, we need to know, so we can stop it”

“Gonna stop it on ma own, lahk, gonna knifecrime the cunt, innit?”

“And get you locked up permanently, surrounded by others just like him? Will you let me call the doc?”

“I’ve seen your doc, lahk, he’s a wankah, pisshead, innit?”

“If I get another? One I really trust?”

“Yeah, OK….”

He was uncertain, and I could see that he was close to tears, but his chosen persona would not allow that, so my big butch robber clamped down on his weaknesses.

“I might be able to find some chocolate…”

He looked away, and nodded sharply, and as I closed the cell door on him I heard the sobs start. I went straight to Jim, and laid out my suspicions, and coupled with our complete lack of faith in our Force Medical Examiner I called up Social Services to let them know the score. First, however, I rang Khan, from Jim’s office.

“Hello Annie, what is it that I can help you with today?”

“It’s Sergeant Price today, Doc, as I am on business, and this s an official call”

“Sergeant Price, I assure you that when am buying the video recorder I am not knowing it is stolen, yes?”

I wanted to laugh, but it wouldn’t come.

“Doc…I have a young man, a child, in custody about whom I have some serious concerns. The FME, for a number of reasons, is not available, and I think it is desirable that he is given a proper examination. I have contacted Social Services for an appropriate and responsible adult to attend, but I would like him checked over as soon as possible. I suspect he may be the victim of some form of abuse”

There was a moment of silence.

“Ten minutes, Annie. I will be there in ten minutes.”