The Last First Time

by Andrea Bramhall

  Gina nodded, still trying to get her brain to function properly again. “Yes.”

  “Well, since I’ve seen the goods, perhaps I am better equipped for this shopping expedition than I thought.”

  Gina closed her eyes, sighed, and chuckled. “Fine. Let’s get started.” She cast her gaze over the rack of red lace negligees and immediately dismissed them even as Stella picked one up and held it against her clothes.

  “This is nice.”

  “If you’re a working girl.”

  “I am a working girl, Gina,” Stella said with an evil grin.

  “Not that kind of work.” She plucked the hanger from Stella’s fingers and put it back on the rail. “If you’re looking for yourself while we’re here, I’d say look for something with a bit more, I don’t know, class, maybe.”

  “Meow.” Stella pretended to paw the air with her fake claws.

  Gina tossed her hair over her shoulder, kept her head pointed slightly towards the ceiling, and moved on to the next rail. A deep-forest-green satin baby doll negligee seemed to call to her. It was simple in its design: soft lines, solid colour, wide shoulder straps. It wasn’t until she held it up that she noticed how short it was. On Kate’s curvy body, this would barely cover the, erm…important…parts. Her mouth watered.

  “Oooo.” Stella’s chin rested on her shoulder. “Is that what you mean by classy?” She rubbed a handkerchief across Gina’s chin. “Drooling, babes.”

  Gina laughed out loud and slapped her hands away. “Is that what you two do all day when you’re supposed to be catching criminals?”

  Stella frowned as if deep in thought, then nodded solemnly. “Yes. But I swear we make the boys do some work while we take the piss.”

  “Uh-huh. Do I look like I was born yesterday?”

  Stella opened her mouth and Gina slapped her hand over it.

  “Don’t answer that.”

  Stella’s eyes twinkled, but she nodded.

  “Anyway, I happen to think this would be perfect for Kate.”

  “Yup.” Stella nodded. “For both seconds you’ll let her wear it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I might let her keep it on a bit longer than that.” She turned the hanger in her hand. “I can reach everything I need without—”

  Stella put her fingers in her ears and rocked her body forwards and backwards. “Too much information, Gina. I’ve still got to work with her. You know, catching criminals?”

  “You said you left that to the boys.”

  “Pft. Please. Without me and Kate, they couldn’t find their way to the coffee shop, never mind find a criminal.” She wandered away a little and rifled through another rack of lace scraps and satin straps. “Oo. Here, what about this?”

  Stella lifted up a black, midthigh-length, modestly cut robe. But the fabric was so sheer that Gina could see Stella’s hand through it as she lifted it towards the light.

  “No, I prefer this one for Kate.” She flicked the green dress towards Stella.

  “I meant for you.” She held it against Gina’s torso. “If you’re still a bit nervous.”

  Gina understood what she meant and was grateful for the thought, but the more she considered it, the more she realised that it was essential that she was able to face Kate without hiding behind something…even if that wasn’t very much.

  She needed to know she could show every aspect of herself to Kate. Emotionally and physically. Letting Kate see that last barrier between them fall, allowing herself to be that vulnerable, was important to her, and it was important to Kate too. She needed to know that Gina was truly able to move past it all and fully embrace their relationship.

  But Gina had to admit the idea of being shrouded by the voluminous sheer fabric as she kissed Kate and ran her fingers up Kate’s arm made her tingle with delicious delight. Well, if Kate was going to be wearing the green satin number, why shouldn’t Gina start out wearing the black one? As long as it came off easily enough. She glanced at the wide sash belt and smiled. No problem.

  “Thanks.” She lifted the second garment from Stella’s hands and folded it over her arm. “Seen anything you fancy?”

  Stella laughed. “I’ve got plenty of batteries at home, thanks.”

  Gina snorted a laugh and shook her head as she walked to the counter and got in the queue. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I do my best.”

  “So does that mean you’re single at the moment?”

  Stella eyed her suspiciously. “Possibly. Why?”

  “Well…” Gina drew it out.

  Stella shook her head. “I don’t do blind dates, other coppers, or girls. I decided a long time ago that I need to be the only drama queen in my relationship, so don’t try setting me up.”

  “I was going to ask if you’d babysit Sammy for me one night so I could seduce my girlfriend.”

  “Oh.”

  The look on Stella’s face was the perfect mixture of delight and disappointment. Gina wasn’t entirely sure how she could have managed that.

  “Of course.”

  There was only one staff member on the checkout, and the queue seemed to be at a standstill.

  “When did you have in mind?”

  “Hmm.” Gina pulled her wallet out of her handbag and slipped out her card. “Well, do you have any plans this weekend?”

  “Nope.”

  “How does tomorrow night work for you?”

  “Sounds good. If you want, Sammy can stay at mine. We’ll have a girly night in.”

  “Do not let her watch Nightmare on Elm Street again.”

  “It’s a classic.”

  “She’s still having nightmares, Stella.”

  “She said she loves scary movies.”

  “She’s nine!”

  “So Chucky’s out?”

  “I swear you only do this to wind me up.”

  “Maybe.”

  “If it’s not a PG, she can’t watch it.”

  “What about a U?”

  Gina laughed. “Then she wouldn’t want to watch it.”

  Stella cocked her head to the side. “Fair point. Jesus, what’s taking so long?” She stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck to see over the people in front of her. “Fuck.”

  Chapter 2

  Stella pulled Gina close and whispered in her ear. “Head for the door, and put the hangers on a rail as you go. Don’t look back. Just walk slowly and get out.”

  “What’s going on?” Gina spun and her eyes fell on two women draped in black cloth.

  Each had an arm raised in the air, a small black box grasped in their hands. Thumbs poised over a switch. They looked to each other and then grasped the cloth and uncovered their pregnant bellies.

  Except they weren’t pregnant bellies.

  Small blocks of silver tape were strapped to a vest that hung low over their abdomens. Wires protruded from them and slinked up their shoulders, out of sight.

  “Is that…?”

  “A suicide vest?” Stella whispered hoarsely.

  Gina nodded, unable to tear her gaze away.

  “Yes,” Stella confirmed and shook Gina until she was looking at her again as she dragged her closer to the door. “Now do what I said. Get out of here. When you get outside, call Kate—”

  “Why? What are you going to do?”

  “We don’t have time for this. Just do it. Call Kate and tell her to get—”

  “For Allah!” A woman’s voice rang out above everything else in the shop, then a loud bang cut off the words.

  Gina was forced to the ground.

  Stella’s body was heavy on top of her, her hands thrown over her head.

  Glass shattered, fragmented, splintered apart, and disappeared. She could hear people screaming through the ringing in her ears. Vaguely. Sort of.

  Cloth and metal fell on them from what seemed like every direction.

  She closed her eyes, only to realise they were already closed and she was merely scrunching them tighter. She didn’t want to see anythin
g around her. Hearing it—or rather not hearing it—was terrifying enough.

  Then everything was silent.

  Except it wasn’t. She could hear everything—the cries of terror, the moans of pain, and the concussive roar of air being forced too quickly into spaces too small for it to fit made her ears throb. But everything she heard seemed far too far away for it to be real. It was like she was listening to a muted TV that was making the sounds in her head rather than her actually hearing them.

  Stella’s lips were moving, but Gina couldn’t make out what she was saying. It was just movement she couldn’t make sense of.

  Just like the smell that invaded her nostrils.

  There was the metallic scent of iron pervading the air, almost strong enough to hide the other scents that Gina didn’t want to think about, yet couldn’t ignore. There was a rotten-egg aroma of something sulphurous that she could guess at, but she desperately wanted that guess to be wrong. The scent of explosives, residue, whatever the fuck it was that experts called it—she didn’t know and she didn’t care—filled her nose and hung heavy in the air. It had to be that. Nothing else made sense.

  But above it all was an acrid, burning odour that clung to every molecule she sucked into her lungs and stuck to her tongue. She could taste it. It smelled like meat burnt on a BBQ. And the horror of that began to sink in. There was no BBQ. There was no meat. There was nothing cooking but human flesh. And Gina fought the urge to vomit, the vile burning of stomach acid inside her far more preferable to her palate than the tang of anything else around her.

  For a moment—one blessed moment—everything around her went black and cold and silent. So silent that Gina wondered if she’d gone deaf. Every noise seemed to stop. All she could hear was her own heartbeat and her own laboured breath, and all she could taste was the fear and blood on her tongue. The thoughts in her head seemed so overly loud, as though she were screaming them rather than thinking. I’m so sorry, Kate.

  She held her breath. I wish—

  “Stay down,” Stella whispered into Gina’s ear, and the world rushed back in a cacophony of raucous screams, wails, and cracking glass. The resounding boom of falling bricks and debris seemed to echo for a split second and then disappear. It was the terrifying howl that brought Gina fully back to the present. The holler of a woman screaming, “My legs! Where are my legs? Oh my God. Oh my God! My legs!”

  Gina tried to control her breathing, her voice, and her rising panic. Now was not a good time to have another panic attack. Now was not a good time to freeze. If she could hear Stella, she was still alive, and they would be fine. They had to be. “Stay down?” she whispered, and she could hear the confusion in her own voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know if that explosion was both of them or just one. If it wasn’t, and they think we’re all dead, then they might not detonate the second bomb.”

  “Oh God.”

  “Listen, we need to call for help, and we need information.”

  “You don’t think someone will have already called the police?”

  “I am the police, Gina. The more information I can get to the relevant people as fast as possible, the better it’s going to be for everyone.” Her words were slurred, and her hands were clumsy as they slowly moved across Gina’s body.

  “Need your…phone. Mine’s in my bag, and I’m…not sure where…dropped it somewhere.”

  “Back pocket of my jeans.”

  “Right.” Stella moved her hands across her hip.

  She shifted slowly to give Stella enough space to slip her hand behind her back and pull the phone from her pocket. Her abdominal muscles complained at trying to hold her weight up off the ground…and Stella’s. “Who are you going to call? Kate?”

  “No. Detective Inspector Timmons.”

  “Your boss?”

  Stella nodded, and her eyelids fluttered.

  Gina bit her lip. Something was wrong with Stella. Something was very wrong. “But I don’t have his number,” she whispered, hoping the words would somehow help Stella focus.

  “S’okay…know it.” Stella placed the handset on Gina’s chest before freezing again. “Passcode?”

  “2601.” Gina could hear the tiny chirp as Stella pressed the numbers and unlocked her phone.

  Gina’s hearing was starting to return to something approaching normal. Or maybe she was just getting used to the incessant ringing and everything sounding like she was listening to it through water.

  “DI Timmons, it’s Goodwin…Major incident…sir, Ann Summers, Ki-King’s Lynn. H-high Street…bomb. Multiple…multip casualties…”

  Gina lifted her head and looked at something other than Stella for the first time. She wished she hadn’t.

  Both of the women were gone.

  As was everything she remembered of the shop.

  Racks and rails of clothes were shredded. A glass display shelf beside the counter had shattered, and hundreds of chocolate penises littered the floor. Red ribbons tied the squeaky cellophane closed. Shards of plastic and twisted hunks of metal created a gory avant-garde sculpture park the likes of which would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.

  Screams drowned out whatever Stella was saying into the handset on her chest, and Gina tried not to think about the scene around her. Gina wanted to be at home. No, she wanted to be at Kate’s. She wanted to be with Kate. And Sammy and Merlin, Kate’s adopted border collie. Oh God, Sammy! What else was she going to put the child through? Gina wanted to be wrapping presents and hiding them before she got home from school. Even wading through the mountain of paperwork on her desk would be nice. She wanted to be anywhere but here, lying on the floor at Ann Summers, wishing she’d bought Kate’s gift online.

  “Yes, sir…still in the shop. Haven’t heard anything more to suggest the other bomber is still—”

  “She’s gone too,” Gina said quietly.

  Stella looked at her, clearly trying to focus on Gina’s face. One pupil was blown. Gina didn’t know how Stella was still conscious. “You sure?” Her words were even more slurred.

  Gina nodded, and Stella shifted off Gina’s body and flopped onto her back. The movement was clearly the last straw for Stella. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she dropped Gina’s phone.

  Gina turned onto her side, and quickly grabbed the phone as she placed two fingers against Stella’s neck. Her pulse was strong and steady; at least that was a good sign.

  “Hello? Goodwin? What the fuck’s going on?”

  “Mr Timmons, this is Gina. Stella’s injured. She’s passed out. We need…” Gina looked around as she ran her spare hand over the back of Stella’s head.

  Everywhere she looked there was carnage, destruction like she had never imagined before. The screams of the women had faded into the background, and Gina could no longer tell where one stopped for breath and another began, as they blended together in a macabre choir of agonised screeches. And Gina waited, expecting the panic to take over, expecting her body and mind to shut down. But it didn’t. The images—every vile, horror-inducing image—registered instead. Every fragment of it branded itself into her brain.

  There was a woman slumped against a wall, perhaps fifteen feet away, trying to sit up. She lifted her legs to leverage their weight against that of her body, but the attempt failed. So she tried again. And failed. Again. Each failure caused her to slump further to the ground. But she continued to try.

  Gina knew she’d fail. She was always going to fail because there simply wasn’t enough weight in her legs to leverage her body anymore. Instead of knees and calves, and feet, there were ragged wounds of muscle, sinew, and bone pumping blood into a pool around her. Each time she raised the stumps they squirted a river of red across broken glass and twisted hunks of metal. But with each attempt, the distance of the spray lessened significantly. Logic and far too many movies and TV shows told Gina that meant the poor woman was bleeding to death, and there was nothing she could do to hel
p her. Nothing. But Gina’s mind simply couldn’t comprehend it. She couldn’t accept that something like this could happen in real life. It just…couldn’t.

  Her hands shook, and she could feel the warm, sticky blood covering the back of Stella’s head, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the scene before her. Blood decorated the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Tissue she couldn’t identify clung to the ceiling fan—what was left of it—and above it, a hole gaped wide like a massive mouth. Slowly the rain slipped inside and kissed her face.

  The woman lay still, no longer trying to sit up. No longer moaning or crying or asking where her legs were. Her eyes were open as she slumped against what was left of the wall, staring up at the hole in the ceiling. Raindrops streaked rivers through the dirt, blood, and grime that covered her face. The tears of heaven washing away the woman’s pain.

  “Hello? Gina?”

  Timmons’s voice was rough. Anger? Frustration? She didn’t know. She couldn’t honestly say she cared, as she turned her head, only to be confronted by a woman’s hand half-buried by wrappers of condoms. A left hand with purple nail varnish and a ring on its finger. Diamonds and sapphires. An engagement ring. A beautiful engagement ring, on an elegant-looking hand. But there was no thumb. No wrist. And nothing at all beyond.

  “What do you need?” Timmons growled.

  “A miracle,” she whispered.

  “How do you mean?”

  “There were two of them, with bombs.” She moved on autopilot, barely registering that she’d slipped Stella into the recovery position as she spoke. “There are a lot of people here.”

  “Dead?”

  She couldn’t stop herself glancing at the woman with her missing legs. “Oh, yes.”

  “Injured?”

  “Many.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  Was she? Physically she didn’t think so. But her soul…that was a different story. “I’m okay.”

  “Look after yourself, then. We’re on our way, Gina.”

  Gina sat for a moment just listening. The sounds of people crying in pain. The crunch of more broken glass beneath someone’s shoes. Sirens in the distance. Ambulance? Police? Both? How many people had died? How many were dying? There were people around her now, dying, as she sat there doing nothing.