UG3 Diminishing Returns   Chapter 03     Nurse Sophie

 

Sophie was released the following morning with no after affects and no ongoing medical concerns but she hadn't any clean clothes to wear. One of the nurses queried her arrangements.

“Until I can get indoors I won't have access to any clothes. I don't know if the cottage has been cleared yet either, as my phone had died. How's Heather today?”

“She has a nasty viral strain, the powder didn’t help but she was already quite weak. She'll be with us for another day or so as she remains under observation. I’m afraid you can’t visit her yet.”

“Fair enough, can we do anything about this, though?” She pointed at her hospital gown.

“Give me a moment.”

The nurse returned a few minutes later carrying a set of scrubs for Sophie, the DS did not like hospital gowns and had refused the offer of an NHS nightie.

“Can't someone pick you up?”

“There is no-one else.”

There was a cough, DI Willis had arrived with DC Garston. “Are you the cavalry?” Asked the nurse.

“No, but we need to speak to Miss Grieve and can provide her with transportation.”

“Excellent.” The nurse walked away.

“Don't you have anything to wear?”

“No. Let's go!”

The three officers walked down to the marked Police car that was parked by the hospital entrance, right where the 'Absolutely No Parking' sign was. Sophie carefully slid in the back with Bob Willis.

“Right, what's the latest?”

“Your DI asked me to update you, the powder was talc, plainly intended to frighten you.”

“Terrorise, don't you mean?”

“I'm not sure throwing the Terrorism Act around is appropriate.”

“Not even for that toad Smythe?”

“It wasn't him.”

“No?”

“No, it was the grandson, Jeremy Smythe. Did you see the letter that was in the envelope?”

“Not a chance.”

“His grandfather is allegedly unwell and it's all Miss Young's fault, that's the gist of it.”

“Well …?”

“He's due in front of a magistrate later this morning. Unfortunately he's also due for a disciplinary today.”

“Hasn't that already been dealt with? Are you telling me he's still a Police Constable?”

“He's been suspended since November but various reports needed to be done plus there was the small matter of Christmas and New Year, our civilian complaints team took the time off.”

“That’s inconsiderate. Can I go home now?”

“Yes, I contacted your DI, she confirms a team has declared the property safe.”

“Good, let's go.”

DC Garston drove from the hospital, pulling up as close to the door as possible. Thankfully the snow was clearing the streets and there was rain in the air. She invited Bob into the cottage but left the DC outside.

“I'll only be a minute.”

She dived into the kitchen to empty any water out of the kettle, flush it then refill it before putting it on. The powder was benign but that didn’t stop her from being thorough.

Leaving Bob in the lounge she went upstairs and quickly threw on a recently cleaned spare uniform, except there was no cap, jacket or epaulettes. She was comfortable and it felt appropriate to make others know her occupation at this time. Back in the kitchen her phone was put on charge.

“Coffee?”

She went to the fridge for milk, it seemed that the Security Service clean-up crew had either made use of the facilities or else disposed of it.

“No milk, I'm afraid.”

"Thanks, Sophie, but not for me."

There was a knock on the door, DI Willis was nearest.

“Are you expecting a Tesco delivery?”

“Timely!”

Sophie put the kettle on then checked each of the bags as they were deposited just inside the door. Satisfied there were no foreign objects she signed the driver's tablet.

“Okay, let's see what's missing.” She grabbed the invoice. “Nothing, there's nothing missing. That must be a first!”

“I'd best be going, can't have DC Garston sat there with nothing to do!”

“Okay Bob, thanks for the help. I've one hell of a report to write.”

“I don't doubt it, Sophie.”

She put most of the shopping away then took her coffee up to the office, the cottage felt strangely empty as she sat on the chair. She first made contact with her boss.

“Hi Emily, what can you tell me?”

“Jenny organised the clean up. I just acted as a go-between for DI Willis.”

“Okay, this is now being treated as a criminal matter locally and, as you probably know, the locals have a man in custody.”

“We could escalate it, Sophie?”

“Too much attention, no, I'll let Bob handle it.”

“How's Heather?”

“She has the flu, a bad strain. She'll be in hospital for another day or so, I'll go visit her later.”

“Do pass on my regards, I think Jenny organised some flowers?”

“I don't know, she was in CCU until this morning and then I won’t be allowed to see her until she has been moved to a normal ward.”

“Okay, when do I get your report?”

“When I've written it, sorry but there's other priorities right now.”

“By tomorrow lunchtime please.”

“Sure, DI Keane.”

Sophie made herself some lunch, but she had no idea what to do for dinner despite a fridge full of fresh food. Sophie gave up with that and went back to something she could do in her sleep.

She'd finished the multi-page report by two that afternoon and sent it to the Detective Inspector at Scotland Yard, copied to Jenny Osborne at the Security Service. She finally felt ready to phone the Royal Cornwall Hospital.

“Hello, I'm calling about Heather Young.”

“What ward is she on?”

“I don't know, she was in Critical Care until this morning.”

“Ah, she's been moved onto Looe Ward in the past hour.”

“What time can I visit?”

“Between six and eight.”

It didn't take long for Sophie to become bored. She didn't want to leave the cottage, in case of calls, but did not care for books or magazines. Within the hour she was working on her investigation, returning to the research she was doing the previous day. Unfortunately the clean-up crew had also destroyed the paperwork that was loose on the kitchen table so Sophie had to start again.

She guessed Heather would also need clothing so gathered a few nighties, undies and a frock to wear out – Heather was definitely the more feminine of the pair. She added a body spray and picked up Heather's bag in readiness, dropping the cleansed and charged mobile phone into it.

Sophie drove, carefully, to the Hospital in Treliske and at five to six she was in the lift up to Looe Ward.

Heather was in a side room half dozing, although it didn't take long for her to work out someone was there.

“Oh, hello my love, they let you out?”

“A few hours ago, what about you?”

“I lost another armful of blood just before they moved me here and I'll find out in the morning if they want to keep me. That powder wasn't anything dangerous?”

“No it was talc, so it was just a co-incidence that you went down with flu like that?”

“I'd been feeling grotty all morning, since Saturday afternoon even, the paramedics found I had a fever and a slight reaction to the powder as I breathed some in. That, it seems, was responsible for my cough. Once I was in here my fever got worst, it was a fast acting strain of flu. I seem to remember an article on the BBC about a number of similar cases in South London.”

She reached for water, knowing that she'd spoken too much whilst her throat was supposed to be recovering.

“Was Colonel Smythe responsible?” She whispered.

Sophie checked that the door was closed. “No, Constable Smythe, soon to be former Constable Smythe”

“Oh.”

“I've brought you a few bits, and I picked up a puzzle book downstairs.”

“Thanks.”

“The Tesco delivery arrived, so we have plenty of food.”

“Good.” Heather was down to monosyllabic answers. A yawn confirmed that she had exhausted the conversational topics. Sophie kissed her forehead before slipping out of the room. She sought the charge nurse.

“I'm Heather Young's partner, are you aware that she was assaulted?”

“The notes include she was exposed to an unknown powder, since identified as talcum powder. The police haven't been in to see her and there's no note of their involvement.”

Sophie put a Met Police business card on the counter then showed her warrant card. “Please call me if there are any other visitors, before they go in.”

“I see.”

“There is a criminal investigation, and the sooner I can take Heather home the easier it will be to manage her security.”

“Well, the earliest is tomorrow, but Thursday is more likely.”

“I understand. Please can you get her out of that awful thing and into one of her own nighties? I brought two and she’ll be more comfortable.”

Sophie was back in Redruth and hungry but still had little idea, or energy, so ignored the fresh ingredients that were in the fridge. She pulled up outside one of the Indian Takeaways and ordered a hot curry. Twenty minutes later she was indoors, secure and settling. She’d bought a bottle of lager from the off licence and drank this with the curry. She rarely drank and wasn’t anticipating any calls so the booze would help her sleep.

Sophie slept through the night but hadn’t set an alarm. She was awoken to the sound of her mobile.

“DS Grieve? This is Looe Ward at Treliske Hospital, I’m Charge Nurse Evans.”

“Oh, is there a problem?” She looked at the time, it was eight o’clock.

“Not as such, we’re discharging Miss Young back to her GP, she’ll be ready to collect within an hour.”

“I thought she needed to be kept under supervision?”

“The duty Registrar believes she’s fit to go home, plus we need the bed.”

“So maybe you would have kept her another day if the bed wasn’t needed?”

“I’d be grateful if you could arrange transport.”

Sophie did as asked, even though that meant she couldn’t achieve anything that morning. She arrived at the hospital just after nine and was back in the car with Heather barely fifteen minutes later for the twenty minutes drive home.

Of course, Heather went straight to bed.

Sophie dived back into the investigation and fired off a few requests to Exeter Police HQ. Emily had also asked her to familiarise herself with port operations, and Plymouth was as good as anywhere for that.

Unfortunately she felt she couldn’t, under the circumstances, leave Heather and visit the officers working in the port but her phone calls weren’t getting anywhere either. It seemed that most of the Special Branch Ports Unit were apparently on leave.

She looked for a reason and it was quickly obvious, there were zero Roll On/Roll Off sailings from Plymouth's ferry terminal to Santander, Spain, or to Roscoff, France, during January and February. The intel had suggested Plymouth could be the port for the next drug import but if there were no ferries, that wouldn’t be correct. This frustrated Sophie as she really wanted to visit the docks but couldn't, given Heather’s condition. She reported all this to Emily, emphasising that she would indeed travel to Plymouth as soon as possible, but hadn’t yet made contact with local officers.

At one o’clock she checked on Heather then offered to make lunch, but her partner’s appetite wasn’t any good. Sophie heated up a can of soup for each of them and managed to help Heather eat half of it.

Mid afternoon Sophie made contact with Customs and Excise at Plymouth but they were reticent at dealing with her over the phone.

“Very sorry, but we can’t verify who you are?”

“You can phone the Met, I’m in SO15 but I’m based in Cornwall.”

“In which case I suggest you call our national intel unit and talk to them first. Sorry, but we can’t just accept any random calls at face value.”

“Okay, I’ll visit, but I’m not sure when.”

Sophie rationalised that the National Intelligence Unit of HMRC was the very same unit that hadn’t asked the police or other intelligence agencies for help until they were stuck? Under those circumstances she felt she would gain nothing by waiting for an in-person port visit.

Dinner was a non-event as Heather just slept. Sophie made a sandwich and finished off Heather’s re-warmed soup.

Sophie managed to get Heather into a shower on Thursday morning but after tea and toast she was back in bed, although Sophie had managed to change the bedding in the short time Heather was sat at the kitchen table. The Detective Sergeant was operating outside of her comfort zone and she wasn’t keen on continuing for too long.

Heather, meanwhile, hadn’t dozed off but was a little more lucent which included spending an hour or so with the wordsearch book that Sophie had bought.

Sophie assessed the situation. “I need to do some shopping, will you be alright?”

“Of course I will be, but I’ll sit in bed.”

Outside the recent rain had washed the snow and ice away but the streets were still coated in grit which flew when driven over. Sophie walked down Green Lane and first went into the pharmacy for paracetamol as Heather was using up their supply. She also picked up a few boxes of man-size tissues, hoping that her partner wouldn’t throw a tizz. Other shops provided some chocolate and a copy of Plymouth’s daily newspaper the Western Morning News, which on Thursdays included the West Country Business supplement.

She made her last stop at the bakery on Fore St before turning to head home. All told Sophie had been out for just twenty minutes but Heather was already fast asleep, with the wordsearch laying on the floor.

Sophie took the newspaper back downstairs and skimmed through it. One story looked interesting, a second world war sea fort, really a gunnery platform, was up for sale. It was just outside Mounts Bay and in the 60s had achieved notoriety as a base for a pirate radio station, beaming a poptastic signal towards London and across the Southern counties in defiance of the authorities and the BBC monopoly at the time.

This was the last such fort on the South coast and was one of a very few that was still accessible. The 60s radio station had been closed down well before the Marine Offences Act and several of the DJs were picked up by other stations only to be back out of a job in August 1967 when they were threatened with arrest when the government decided that pop radio was subversive!

In recent years the fort hadn’t come to anyone’s notice and was believed to be abandoned. She returned the paper to Heather’s bedside cabinet, in case she fancied a gander at the news.

***

The newspaper was still there on Friday morning when Heather finally moved from her bed into the lounge, but given the hour was served another bowl of soup for lunch.

Sophie had put Jenny off but late on Friday afternoon, but Heather dragged herself to a ringing phone.

“How are you feeling, Heather?”

“Lousy Jenny, aren't I entitled to some peace and quiet?”

“I'm waiting for your report.”

“Get lost, Sophie tells me that she did one for Emily but she wasn't dying in a hospital bed for as long as I was.”

“Security Unit have demanded it, your security needs reviewing.”

“It was one item in the post, we couldn’t employ a team to scan all the mail.”

“We'll could ask the Royal Mail to do it instead.”

“Locally?”

“No, at one of their distribution centres. Your post could take a few days extra to arrive.”

“I think this was a one-off event, Jenny, totally unconnected to our work here.”

“It's up to Security Unit to decide that, but first they need your report.”

“Fine, I'll send Sophie's and just change the name. I'm going back to bed, bye.”

Heather had told Sophie that she’d prepare dinner but by six she was fast sleep, without needing any medication.