by JD Nixon
After lunch at his place – bloody tuna and salad again – we hit the town centre for a bit of beat walking. ‘Town Centre’ was a generous term for what were in reality two streets with shops. Timber Street formed part of the Coastal Range Highway that snaked through town, and Gum Street made a T-junction with it. It was Gum Street where the supermarket was situated and the road down which I’d chased Jamie before he’d run out on to the highway.
Walking down it only reminded me of my guilt about his death, and the fact that we still didn’t even know who he was.
I would have liked to discuss that with the Sarge, but all his time was taken with greeting shopkeepers and townsfolk, receiving each one of their warm ‘welcome backs’ with a sly glance in my direction.
“Lavinia at twelve o’clock,” I warned him quietly, feeling him tense with panic, wondering how he could avoid her. I knew how he felt – I spent a lot of effort trying to avoid her.
“Sergeant Maguire,” she purred, her hand clamping on to his arm, her thumb rubbing up and down on it. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to see you back here.” He murmured some inane response. “To celebrate your return, I’d be honoured to give you a private reading. I’m getting a very strong sense from you that your future will involve great romance, and a lot of very steamy and satisfying sexual experiences.”
“Oh . . .” he said faintly. “Sounds . . . um . . . really good.” I muffled a laugh behind my hand.
She thrust her business card into his hand.
“Call me,” she demanded in a sultry voice, locking eyes with him, before sashaying away, her muu muu (today emerald green with Celtic decorations in silver) swaying with the movement of her broad hips.
“Lucky you,” I smirked. “All that steamy and satisfying sex to look forward to.”
“Shut up, Fuller.”
“I did warn you.”
“This is ridiculous. I’ve just ended a long-term relationship. It’s not the right time for me to start another one.”
“I’m pretty sure Lavinia has something other than a relationship in mind,” I giggled again.
“Fuller, I’m warning you. It’s not funny.”
“Yes, it is. It’s hilarious.”
“I told you not to come back!” shouted an angry voice from the door to the supermarket, immediately followed by Lola Bycraft stumbling out.
“You can’t fucking stop me from coming in, you fucking fuck,” she slurred, trying to force her way back in.
Mr Grimmell stood in the doorway blocking her access. She rained puny fists down on him in fury.
“Hey!” I yelled, jogging up to them. “Lola, stop that.” I appealed to Grimmell. “What’s going on?”
“This fuckhead won’t let me do some shopping.”
“Look at her. She’s drunk. You can smell the booze on her a mile away. I told her to sober up before she comes back. I’m not having her drunk in my store again. She keeps knocking everything over.” He gave her a death glare. “And knocking everything off.”
“You shouldn’t charge so fucking much, should you? You’re a stinkarse robber.”
“Look who’s talking! You’ve got no right to be shoplifting from me.”
“All right,” said the Sarge. “Calm down, everyone.”
“Fuck off, copper,” spat Lola.
He gripped her around one scrawny wrist. “If you want to spend some time in the lockup this afternoon, say that to me again.”
She laughed in his face. We both leaned back from the smell of raw spirit on her breath. “Yeah, you just go ahead and do that, copper. It worked out so well for piglet last time you were stupid enough to do it.” Her sneering eyes shifted to me. “But I’d put up with it again just to see this bitch suffer.”
“I’m warning you, Bycraft,” the Sarge hissed. “Get on home, now.”
“Make me.”
He twisted her arm up behind her, forcing her to squeal in pain, dropping her cigarette on the footpath. He started marching her up the street in that hold.
“Let go of me, you arsehole,” she grunted, struggling to get away from him.
“Do you want me to frogmarch you all the way home like this?” he asked her.
“Fuck off!”
“Okay, your choice.” He strongarmed her another hundred metres.
“Okay. All right. Let me go.”
He let her go and stood staring down at her with his hands on his hips. “Get on home now.” She stood her ground staring up at him, her nostrils flaring with anger and hatred, rubbing her wrist. “Now!” he bellowed.
“Murderer!” she shouted back at him. “You’re both murderers. You better believe you’re going to fucking pay for my Denny. Especially you, piglet.”
“Get lost, Bycraft. Before I lose my temper.”
Sullenly, resentfully, she turned around and staggered off home. We both watched her until she turned into Jarrah Street where the dump she called home was located.
“She’s getting worse,” I said to the Sarge in a low voice. “From what Jake says, Denny’s death has hit her hard.”
“I didn’t think she cared about him.”
“Of course she didn’t,” I scorned. “She never had any time for him. She thought he was stupid, as did his whole family.” As did most of us in town, I thought guiltily.
“Maybe,” said the Sarge thoughtfully. “But sometimes sudden death can strike people in unexpected ways. To me, she didn’t seem like she was grandstanding for attention just then. Has she lost any of her other kids?”
“Nope. They’re all still alive and kicking.” Then I muttered under my breath, “Unfortunately.”
“Does she normally drink during the day?”
“No, not that I’ve seen before. To be honest, I’ve never really known her to be much of a drinker. A smoker, definitely. But not so much a drinker.”
“That’s a sure sign of distress. Maybe Denny’s death has hit her hard.”
“I’m not cutting her any slack, Sarge. So don’t bother asking me to,” I declared heatedly. “Whatever she dishes out to me, I’m going to give it back to her double, grieving mother or not. God knows that family has caused me enough grief over the years.”
“Settle down. I never asked you to roll over for her. I’m just trying to get into her headspace. She’s a dangerous person in this town because they’re all so protective of her. If she’s going to go off the rails, it could mean a world of trouble for us.”
I nodded to show that I agreed with him. I appreciated his cautiousness and him trying to anticipate problems, especially as we had such limited resources, and the whole situation was so very personal between the Bycrafts and me.
The rest of the afternoon was taken up with more chatting with the shopkeepers and townsfolk. When the primary school let out for the day, the kids swarmed through the gates to hang around us, Abe’s little girl, Toni, clutching my hand. The expression on Gretel’s face suggested she would have liked to clutch the Sarge’s hand too – or any other body part she could reach – but was forced to maintain a modicum of propriety in front of her young charges.
While the school kids were familiar with me from my regular safety talks, the young girls loving nothing more than hanging off my arms, the children were a bit in awe of the Sarge. Being so tall and big, he cut an imposing figure for many adults, so he must have seemed like an authoritative giant to the children.
I think Gretel was about to invite him back to her place for a ‘coffee’, when he glanced at his watch.
“Back to the station, Tess. I have some paperwork to read through that Baz left me,” he ordered. Leaving a crestfallen Gretel behind, we returned to the patrol car.
“I hope that paperwork Baz left isn’t about me,” I said, flinging my cap on to my desk, dislodging a minor avalanche of papers to the floor.
“Please clean your desk,” he asked with the tempered patience a parent shows a recalcitrant teen. “It would make me extremely happy if it was done before you left today.”
Grumbling and bitching the entire time, I sorted out a small pile of important paperwork, and shredded the rest with only a perfunctory initial assessment.
“Don’t you ever read any of those memos?”
“Nope. Why would I? It’s your job to keep me up-to-date with what I need to know. And if you don’t let me know, the Super sure will.” I looked at my virtually clean desk with satisfaction. “That’s done, so I’m off. See you tomorrow.”
Dad and I shared a quiet meal, and watched a bit of mindless TV together. I retired to bed early, thrilled with the prospect of a solid eight hours sleep for once.
I should have known better.
*****
At about two-thirty, my mobile rang, startling me out of my sleep with the immediacy of someone whose slumber is frequently and often suddenly interrupted.
“Tess Fuller,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes with my free hand, and trying to stop myself from cracking a huge yawn into the phone.
“Tess, it’s Finn. I need you at my place now,” he said with an unmistakable urgency.
“Okay,” I said, but he’d already hung up.
I scrabbled out of bed, dressing in a hurry, strapping on my knife as well as my utility belt. I left Dad a short note letting him know where I was, and urged the old Land Rover to go as fast as it could, my heart thumping. I hoped there was nothing wrong with the Sarge. If he needed my help with a call-out, he would normally have picked me up in the patrol car. I didn’t know what it meant that he couldn’t come to me.
Lights blazed from his house. A car was parked in his driveway. I’d seen it before somewhere, but couldn’t quite place it.
I jogged up his front stairs. His front door was open so I invited myself in, following voices to his spare bedroom. The Sarge and two men leaned over a crying young woman lying on the bed.
“Teddy. Lee,” I acknowledged curtly, and the two men nodded at me, equally brusque and tense. “What’s up?”
“Teddy and Lee found this girl collapsed at the front of their house a short while ago, so they brought her here,” said the Sarge.
“We’d just returned from a musical at the theatre in Big Town,” Lee explained, his voice trembling a little.
“She was lying half in the gutter and half on the footpath,” said Teddy, subdued and shocked.
“We could only think of bringing her here,” said Lee, twisting his fingers together. “We didn’t know what else to do.”
I moved closer and looked her over. She was younger than I’d first thought – no older than eighteen, much probably younger. She was dirty, her clothes grimy, her face gaunt. She appeared as though she’d been living rough for some time. She wore a loose button-up shirt that was far too big for her, and some old runners. Her jeans were drenched wet from her pelvis to her knees.
She opened her eyes, looking around at the men in fear, before latching on to my eyes. She reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly.
“Please help me,” she whispered. She dropped my hand and held her stomach, her face screwing up in pain, low moaning forced from between her lips. “Oh, God. It hurts so much.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair, damp and clumped from perspiration, off her forehead.
“Please help,” she repeated, before doubling over in pain. “I can pay you.”
With difficulty, she reached into each jeans pocket and pulled out a ring from one and a bracelet from the other. I was no jewellery expert, but they looked genuine and valuable to me. The Sarge took them from the girl, and placed them on the chest of drawers. We’d worry about them later. We had more important things to deal with at the moment.
I took her hand. “Sweetheart, I’m Officer Tess from the local police and –”
“No! Not the police,” she sobbed, trying to sit up, only to hug her stomach, her face twisted. She collapsed back on to the bed.
“It’s okay,” I comforted. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”
Tears trickled from her eyes. “Not the police,” she snuffled.
“We just want to help you. You’re not in any trouble.”
“My baby . . .” she said, before being wracked by excruciating agony again, her trickle of tears turning into a flood.
“Baby?” I asked, looking up at the Sarge. “She looks too young to have a baby.”
“My baby . . .” she repeated, cupping her belly with her hands. “It’s coming.”
There was stunned silence in the room for a moment.
“Sweetheart,” I said urgently. “Are you having a baby?”
“Yes,” she cried out. “I think it’s coming right now.”
“Oh, shit! Ring the ambulance,” the Sarge ordered Teddy. “We probably won’t get one in time, but they can talk us through what to do.” He called him back. “Also ring Dr Fenn at the prison. He should be able to help. Tess, round up some disposable gloves, towels, blankets, maybe some sheets to put under her. Anything you think that might be useful.”
“Have you done this before, Sarge?”
“No. Have you?”
“No.”
“I guess we’re both about to learn something new.”
I took off at double time, only to have him call me back immediately. “Actually, you stay here and undress her. I’ll gather all the things we need.”
“That makes more sense. Can I grab one of your t-shirts? She so small that it will do as a gown. Her shirt’s filthy.”
“Yep. Go for it. Third drawer down in my cupboard.
I sprinted into his bedroom, and pulled out the first t-shirt, hoping it wasn’t an expensive designer one.
Back with the girl, I carefully rolled her from side to side to strip the sheets off the bed – no point in ruining them. They probably cost the Sarge a bundle.
I took the towels and older sheets he handed me and eased the poor girl on top. I waved the men out from the room while I helped undress her and pull the t-shirt over her nakedness. It was only as I did that could I discern a noticeable, but small, bump in her belly. She hardly looked full-term, and the big shirt she’d worn had swamped her, masking her pregnancy. No wonder Dave hadn’t noticed, and had merely thought she was a little chubby.
“What’s your name, sweetheart,” I asked in one break she had from her contractions.
“Annabel,” she said, before another contraction gripped. She cried out loudly.
“Come on, Annabel. You can do it, sweetheart. Just breathe. In and out. Nice and slow.” I had no idea if what I was saying was at all useful, but it might distract her at least for a moment.
Just when I was wondering where the hell Teddy was, he came running in with the phone.
“Neither Dr Fenn nor his nurse are available at the moment. But I have the ambulance service on the phone.”
“Put them on speakerphone,” I said, probably a little sharp from stress.
I’d apologise to him later. I liked the guy – after all, I voted for him in the last Council election. But I’d rather have one Sarge to support me than ten friendly would-be politicians, no matter how willing Teddy was to be of assistance.
The Sarge shooed the other two men from the house, and leaned on the doorjamb, ready to help when needed.
“Hello? Hello?” called a female voice from the phone.
“Hi, there. I’m Senior Constable Tess Fuller from the Mount Big Town police. I have a young lady here about to give birth. Neither my sergeant nor I have any delivery experience, and we only the most basic idea of what to do. Hope you can help us.”
“Hi, Tess. My name’s Jacinta. I’ve done this a few times in the last five years, so don’t worry, I’ll talk you through it. You’ll be fine. I’ve dispatched an ambulance, but you know it’s going to take a while to get there. Hopefully, it will reach you before the baby’s arrived. What’s the name of our young lady?”
“Annabel.”
“First time mother?”
“I hope so. She’s only about sixteen.” I looked at the girl.
“Is that right, Annabel? You’re sixteen?”
She nodded, her face contorting, sweat breaking out on her forehead.
“Does she know how many weeks along she is?”
Annabel shook her head. “No.”
“I’d hazard a guess that she’s had little, or no, ante-natal care,” I said. “Her jeans were soaking wet when she came here, so I presume that means her waters have broken?”
“Most probably. We’re getting closer to delivery. It will all be over soon.”
After conveying information between Jacinta and Annabel, we established that Annabel’s contractions had been going for hours. The pain had driven her into town to seek help, where Teddy and Lee had found her collapsed.
On Jacinta’s instructions, I timed a couple of contractions, finding them about ten minutes apart.
“Yep, this baby’s definitely on its way,” she confirmed. “But not just yet.”
“Okay. She’s in a lot of pain. What can I do to make her more comfortable?” I asked.
“The poor girl’s going to be doing it drug free. Try to get her to stretch a little; maybe walk around if she’s up to it. A warm bath or shower can sometimes help, particularly if she’s experiencing any back pain. Be sure to keep her hydrated, and if she’s hungry, a small meal with carbohydrates might help.”
Jacinta gave me instructions on breathing techniques to pass on to Annabel. She suggested I hang up for now and try to get Annabel mobile, assuring me she was on shift for a while, and I could ask for her by name when we rang next for more advice.
A warm shower didn’t seem to do much to help Annabel through a couple of contractions. I started to become slightly alarmed, as they seemed to be getting stronger, and closer together.
She managed to drink some water, but refused to eat anything. I walked her slowly up and down the hallway. At one point, I encouraged her to kneel on one of the Sarge’s armchairs, clinging to the back as she suffered through another couple of contractions.
To me, it seemed the time passed infinitely slowly. I could only imagine how it felt for the poor pregnant teenager.
“Sarge, I think we should ring Jacinta back now. Annabel’s contractions are getting really close together,” I said, after timing her last couple.