Zorilla At Large!

by William Stafford

  “Um, not exactly,” said Ball. “I’ve been beavering away behind the scenes all week. Pulling strings. Negotiating my cotton socks off. Turns out the council will accept a different strategy for saving money.”

  “Well, spit it out, man!”

  “It’s this place,” said Ball, looking around the room. “This building is too expensive to run and to maintain. It’s not cost effective. It’s going to be sold off.”

  “Who to?”

  “First buyer that comes along. Probably a carpet warehouse or something of that nature.”

  “Hang about,” said Brough. “Isn’t Woolton’s family business carpets?”

  “A coincidence, I’m sure,” Ball found he had to clear his throat.

  “So where am we to fucking go?” said Wheeler. “I can’t run Serious from the back of a van. Or in the corner of some fucking supermarket. Fuck that!”

  “You won’t have to,” said Ball. “Dedley Police Station is to be re-commissioned. The place is yours.”

  The news was met with astonishment and relief all round. Wheeler snatched a bottle from Ball’s clutches and twisted it until the cork popped out. Stevens had to duck to avoid a black eye. The team rallied around Wheeler to have their coffee mugs filled with the foaming liquid.

  “Take the day off,” said Ball magnanimously. “No need to start packing things up until tomorrow, eh?”

  Wheeler raised the bottle in toast.

  “You heard the man!” she cried. “Down the hatch and out the snatch!”

  ***

  When the celebrations were over, Miller offered to give Brough a lift home. He declined, suggesting she should take a taxi herself, after all the champers she had put away.

  “Fair cop,” said Miller. “And what was this about a letter?”

  “Honestly, Miller; you’ve a mind like a steel trap. Sometimes. Oh, it was nothing.”

  They walked out of Serious and stopped to look at the illuminated sign on its own stretch of lawn.

  “End of an era,” said Miller. “Sir... you weren’t going to - That letter - it wasn’t your resignation, was it?”

  Brough looked at her anxious, round face. She was trying to smile but she looked like she might burst into tears at any second. He patted her upper arm.

  “Don’t be silly, Miller. My place is here.”

  “But what about Oscar? I thought you were going to fly off to be with him?”

  Brough pressed his lips together. He had to word things carefully; he didn’t want Miller to get her hopes up all over again.

  “Oscar and I - well, I won’t lie: it is the best fun I’ve ever had. Who wouldn’t be swept off their feet? I mean, come on, Mel, you’ve seen him. But - but I let it cloud my thinking and get in the way of my work. That won’t happen again.”

  He moved away. Miller hurried to catch up.

  “You’re finishing with him?”

  “Now I didn’t say that, did I, Miller? How daft do you think I am? And don’t you dare answer that! I’ll sort something out with Oscar. I’ll be fine.”

  They became aware there was a man waiting at the end of the path. It was Darren Bennett and he was holding a large cardboard box.

  “Get your purse ready, Miller. You’re about to pay me that tenner. Good morning, Mr Bennett.”

  “Morning,” said Darren Bennett, but he looked right past Brough. His eyes were fixed on Miller. “I’ve brought you something.”

  Miller’s face broke into a grin. It seemed like ten pounds of Brough’s money would soon be coming her way. Brough laughed and left her to it.

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve been running all over town to find it. I know you’ve been looking for it. And I found it. I found it for you.”

  He held the box towards her. Miller peered between the interlocking flaps.

  A pair of bright, black eyes peered back.

  THE END

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