Time to Play (North East Police)

by K. A. Richardson

  'Must be nice having a brother on the force too?'

  'Yeah. Dad was killed in the line of duty. It was the only thing me and Alex ever wanted to do. We virtually passed our training at the same time with the same grade. Mum worries of course, but she knows we do it for the love of the job.'

  'Sorry about your dad.'

  'Ancient history, but thanks. Was pretty tough growing up without him like, but mum was amazing. I truly don't know how she managed to do it. We all take care of her now, though.'

  'Must be nice,' Marlo's voice had turned wistful without her realising, but Ali had picked up on it.

  'What happened to your parents?'

  Marlo paused, her usual lie of a 'car accident' turning her tongue sour. Deciding on the truth, she answered. 'Never knew my dad, he's not listed on the birth certificate so I wouldn't even know where to start looking. And Mum was a junkie. She overdosed. I must've been about four I think. I don't really remember. The care home told me as I got older that I'd been lucky. She'd died with me in the house, surrounded by needles and filth apparently. I was too old to be wanted by the people looking to adopt, and the number of foster carers was as scarce back then as it is now. I grew up in a communal home.'

  'What was that like?' asked Ali.

  'Awful,' she said with a grim smile. 'This was back when kids fell through the cracks with social services, not like now where they try and dot every i and cross every t. I slept in a small room with four other girls. The beds were bare even in winter. There was damp on the walls and the bathroom was disgusting. We had to bath in the same water once a week. Mrs Reay had a water metre so didn't want to waste good money. She fed us enough so questions didn't get asked, and clothed us in second hand clothes. Needless to say, it wasn't very nice.'

  'Jesus, I thought places like that only existed in musicals like Annie. How'd you end up turning out so right with all that crap to deal with?' He had the grace to look embarrassed at his slip.

  'I had a good teacher at school, Mrs Black. It was the stupidest thing, she saw something in me I didn't even know was there and she encouraged me. She paid for school trips so I didn't miss out. Gave me extra tuition so I could stay at school longer. Without her guidance, God knows what would have happened.'

  Marlo paused. Mrs Black would have turned in her grave if she'd known about the screams Marlo heard, and what had caused them. And what on earth had caused her to tell Ali the truth? She never spoke about her past.

  'I presume you'd like to stay with Elvie? I'll grab you a blanket. The chair's a recliner. Or you can take the bed? But I think the bairn would be more comfortable if she woke up and saw you rather than me.'

  'You don't mind? The chair is great, thanks, Ali.'

  Marlo had turned to face him, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. She felt heat surge through her body, and knew instantly that if he did, then she'd have kissed him back. But the spark in his eyes faded and he pulled back, stepping past her into the lounge. Had she imagined it?

  She wondered what she'd done wrong as he handed her the blanket and retreated to the safety of his bedroom, a dark frown across his face.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  15th November, 0830 hours - Sunderland City Police HQ

  Ali had made it to work on time which was surprising, seeing how he'd practically had a domestic with Marlo before coming in.

  He had planned to bring the girl into the station with him to start hashing the whole situation out. That was the right thing to do.

  But Marlo had begged him to let Elvie spend a rest day before the ordeal to come. ‘Elvie will stay inside your flat and she won’t leave,’ she’d promised.

  Ali had argued – even though he knew it was pointless. Marlo had stood her ground and eventually – just to keep the peace – he’d acquiesced, giving Marlo his spare key.

  He was more than aware he had come close to kissing her last night, and knew fine well she had picked up on his intention. The fact that he'd pulled back had caused her to be snippy that morning, and he understood why. He'd sent out the right signals, then backed away like an idiot. He knew that was the right word. Half the nick would have been over the moon to be in a position to kiss Marlo, if only to challenge the reason they called her Buck. He'd heard the banter, knew many had tried to take on Marlo but failed saying 'the bucking bronco strikes again', indicating she'd bucked them off before they'd even gotten close. He understood her reluctance though: hell, he was hardly one to talk.

  He'd felt a yearning to feel her lips on his, and then, just as he was about to act, Tina had popped into his head and he couldn't do it. He knew it was irrational, stupid even. She'd been gone for years now, but it had felt like she had been watching over his shoulder.

  Shaking his head, he pushed thoughts of her from his mind. Deciding he really needed to deal with the issue of Elvie, he stood and put one arm through his jacket. Feeling around for the second arm, he jumped as the phone rang.

  Jacket still only half-on, he answered, 'DI McKay.'

  'Hey, boss, it's Inspector Whatmore in the control room. Just wanted to make you aware of a job just coming in. It's a serious assault: caller reporting that two masked men have just forced entry into her house and hit her husband over the head with a bat. He's alive; we've got ambulance travelling.'

  'OK, no problem, acting sergeant Charlie Quinn will deal.'

  'Great, thanks. I'll pop her down as allocated. It's log 103 of today.'

  Pulling his arm out of his coat, he sat down with a sigh. He'd deal with Elvie later. Right now he had other things to do.

  15th November, 1010 hours - Connor's parent's house, Sunderland

  It all seemed quiet as Connor made his way up the path to the front door. It was a rarity, to not hear any noise for once. He actually felt dread at the thought of what was to come when he walked inside. His sister was due home at the weekend for a visit. She’d delayed coming the weekend before as she had an assignment to hand in. It had been a few months since she'd been back. He’d told her snippets on the phone but he hadn't wanted to burden her initially, then as time passed it just became more difficult to talk about. Besides, she still had exams and course-work and he wanted her to be able to do it without having to worry.

  On entering the kitchen, he was surprised to find his mum bustling about while his dad sat drinking a cup of coffee. It looked like any normal family environment –

  anyone else’s, anyway.

  'What's going on?'

  'Me and your mum are going out for the day. We're going to the seaside.' His dad sounded pleased as punch, and his mum turned and smiled.

  A moment of lucidity in a life of turmoil.

  'You sure that's a good idea, Dad?' he asked quietly, sitting down at the table.

  'Can't hurt, Son. Your mum seems OK today. And she rarely leaves the house now: it'll be good for her to get out and about.'

  'But what if –'

  'No buts, you're not a goat,' said his mum, brushing a kiss on his forehead. Just for a minute, he let himself enjoy it. It was how she used to kiss him when he was a boy, her lips as light as butterfly wings. It reminded him of how happy they'd been when he was growing up. They were always out and about, making quick picnics whenever the mood took them. Even if it rained, they would go to the airport to watch the planes.

  It had been almost four years now since his mum’s diagnosis, and he could count on one hand the number of times she'd kissed his head like this.

  But, as suddenly as it had started, her mood changed. She stepped back and he saw confusion on her face. He didn't have time to react as her hand slapped him hard across the face, and she started screaming.

  His dad sat there, shrugged his shoulders as if saying 'you can deal with this one' and took another drink of his coffee.

  His mum had just calmed down and he had her seated in her chair by the window when the front door opened and Fred strode inside. He hated that, his uncle just walking in unannounced as if he had the God given
right to do so.

  'Fred,' he greeted coolly.

  'Just off, are you? Never could stick around when the going got tough, you. You're a disgrace. Your mother should have drowned you at birth.'

  'Well she didn't so you're shit out of luck on that point. Go fuck yourself, Fred.' Connor felt his blood start to boil. A confrontation was well over due. He was sick to the back teeth of being blackmailed and pushed around by his uncle, and today, for the first time, it showed.

  'You wanna watch who you're talking to, lad. I've shivved people for less. You think you're so hard, the big tough cop. You're nothing but a bloody water rat. That last intel you passed me was a crock of shit, too. Doing it on purpose, are you? ’Cos if that's the case, I might as well kill you. You've never been of any real use anyway.'

  'So shiv me then, you bastard,' spat Connor, 'cos I've had it leaking intel to you about raids, and having you sneer in my face. You don't know jack about me. I'm better than this.'

  'You think? I doubt it like. Gunna go in and fess up are you? Tell the big boss that you've been slipping your uncle confidential information about raids and the like?'

  As Connor hung his head, Fred grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. His shoulder blade hit the metal edge of the mounted mirror.

  'Just try it, you little shit, I swear to God, you come after me and I'll show you a side you'll wish you'd never unleashed. Not only will I make sure I drain every single penny from your beloved parents and pack their bloody boxes meself, I'll bring that lovely little Marie home and teach her what it's like to earn her keep. She'll learn just what her education cost me in the most heinous of ways. And all you'll be able to do is sit and watch.'

  'Get off me, you fucking prick,' said Connor, pulling free of his grasp. He raised his fist and swung it round, connecting with Fred's face. Fred stumbled, then turned in full rage. Grabbing Connor's shirt, he swung him round and threw him against the unit in the hallway. One of his mum's vases flew and shattered on the floor. Then Fred brought a knee up into Connor's stomach, causing the breath to expel from his lungs and making him gasp as he tried to draw in oxygen. His uncle was full of rage, and Connor couldn't avoid the fist that impacted with his nose. His eyes streamed as blood spurted forth and gurgled in his throat.

  Connor heard a roar from the kitchen door, and saw his dad barrel through and tackle Fred. He was like an animal possessed, raining punches down on Fred’s face, grunting and red cheeked.

  Connor grabbed his dad and pulled him off, ‘Dad, stop, it’s OK. I’m OK, stop it!’

  His dad sagged against him, ‘He hit you. I’m sorry, Son. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Son? He’s not your son.’ snapped Fred, pulling himself to his feet. ‘Your shitty sperm couldn’t even create a speck of life, you useless twat. It was damn lucky I was on hand to help old Sheila out, wasn’t it, or you’d never have had those bloody spawn you call yours.’

  His dad paled, and whispered, ‘No. You swore you’d never tell. You bastard. Get out of my house.’

  ‘Your house? I think you’ll find the mortgage is in my name. I’ll have my solicitor pen out your eviction notice. Or even better I’ll just send round some of the boys. Let them give you a helping hand. I’m done with this shit. You’re a bunch of ungrateful fucking arseholes. Good luck on the streets. And as for you, Son, I’ll be looking out for you.’

  Fred then turned and left, slamming the door so hard it shook the house.

  Connor was in shock. What the hell just happened? Not my dad?

  Silent tears fell down his dad’s face. ‘I’m sorry, Son,’ he repeated, his voice shaking.

  ‘What did he mean, Dad? He said you weren’t my dad. Is that true? Is Fred my dad?’

  His dad fell silent, his head shaking from side to side, his eyes filled with sorrow.

  ‘Dad,’ pushed Connor, turning him round and looking at him. He looked so sad, so full of pain that Connor knew instantly what Fred had said was true. Instinctively, he stepped back. ‘Jesus. That prick is my father? Why would you and Mum do that, Dad? Why would you turn to him?’

  ‘He used to be different,’ defended his dad feebly, ‘before …’

  ‘Before what? Before he got into the whore and drug business? Before we were born? Jesus, why the hell would you keep something like that from us. Marie’s going to be devastated. Fuck.’ Connor paused, hurt filling him completely. How the fuck am I meant to deal with this? He knew he couldn’t, not now. ‘I can’t be here right now, Dad. I need to go.’

  As he walked down the path, he wondered what else in his life would turn to shit. Everything he knew to be true was falling apart. Christ, his mother had shagged his uncle. More than once. And his dad knew. Did life get any more fucked up than that?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  15th November, 1620 hours – Ali’s flat, Sunderland

  Ali precariously balanced the shopping bags in one arm whilst trying to unlock the door to his flat. He didn’t know if Marlo was still inside with Elvie, but he figured the two eggs and spring onion that were in the fridge wouldn’t feed one of them let alone three, so he’d stopped at the supermarket on the way back.

  Pushing open the door, he heard laughter from inside. Laughter that sounded awfully familiar.

  Stepping over the threshold, he peeked round into the living room, and was surprised to see his mum sitting on the couch, chatting to Elvie and Marlo.

  ‘Ma?’ he asked, stepping through. He was confused. Had he invited her down then forgotten? Or was she staying with Cass and Alex, and his brother had failed to mention it?

  ‘Alistair,’ she greeted warmly, pulling herself to her feet and coming to him. She wrapped her arms round him and squeezed tightly, ‘Surprise! I thought I’d pop down and see my sons. Is that shopping? That’s good because what ye had in was pitiful. How do ye expect to feed a woman and bairn if you dinnae keep food in the fridge? We had chips for lunch, from that place round the corner. Quite nice, it was. Not a patch on Clyde’s Chippy near us but still good.’

  He followed his mother into the kitchen and stood silently as she started unpacking the bags. After a few seconds, he decided he couldn’t hold back.

  ‘What’re you doing here, Ma? I wasn’t expecting you.’

  ‘I know that, Son. That’s the whole point of a surprise, ye know. I just missed ye, is all. It’s been months since ye’ve been up, and Alex mentioned ye might be having a tough time of it at the minute with work and what not. It’s nae bother if me being here’s an issue: I can go and stay in a hotel.’

  ‘No. I didn’t mean that, Ma. I was just curious. I’ve missed you too. Every time I plan to come up, something happens and it ends up not being possible. I’m sorry, Ma.’

  ‘OK, I’ll take the couch, though admittedly the flat seems a little crowded. I presume ye’re aware there’s a young lassie in there who needs yer help? She’s had an awful time of it, the poor wee mite.’

  ‘She told you about it?’ Ali tried not to sound incredulous. Not only was he harbouring an illegal immigrant; now his mum knew about it too. He could picture the interview with professional standards now: ‘No, I was not aware that she was illegally in the country, sir.’

  ‘Well your mother and colleague both were, so it stands to reason that you also knew, McKay, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Aye, she mentioned it in passing. The other lassie, Marlo is it? Nice girl that one. Head’s well and truly screwed on. Dive team she tells me? Seems to think highly of ye.'

  ‘Don’t do this, Ma. That’s none of your business,’ Ali groaned.

  ‘What?’ asked his mother innocently. ‘I don’t know what ye mean. Cup of tea?’

  Ali sighed and nodded, ‘Want me to help?’

  ‘Go get yourself in there and chat to your guests. Figure out how to help the wee one.’

  Ali made his way through. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know Mum was coming down.’

  ‘It’s fine, she’s lovely. We’ve been having a good chat. I came back in about 2 p.m.
Had some errands to run, and Elvie wanted to stay inside. Hope that’s OK?’

  ‘Course it is. How you doing?’ he asked, turning towards Elvie.

  ‘I have to go back, yes?’ Her voice was barely audible, her eyes turned downwards. He could see she was dreading his response.

  ‘Not if I can help it, love. I’m going to see what we can do. We need to speak to immigration, but I need you to come to the station with me tomorrow and answer some questions. Is that OK?’

  Elvie nodded; she didn’t have any reason to trust him, but he could see that she did.

  Turning back to Marlo, he added, ‘So you didn’t get called in, then?’

  ‘Nope, but tomorrow’s a whole new day. Supposed to be off tomorrow too, but we’ll see. Angelo from Bravo team has text to say their search will extend into tomorrow too. They’re looking for a teenager, believed to have been drunk, who somehow wandered into a storm drain near the viaduct in Bishop Auckland. So if anything comes in we’ll get the call.’

  ‘Well hopefully it’ll be as QT as today seemed to have been.’

  ‘You’ve jinxed it now,’ said Marlo with a wry smile.

  Just at that point, his mother came in carrying a tray of tea and a plate of biscuits she’d apparently found in the cupboard. Ali didn’t have the heart to point out they were probably there from Alex’s time in the flat. He never bought biscuits.

  He took one dutifully though, and as he bit down he frowned slightly. What would tomorrow bring? How would he explain holding Elvie at his home for two nights before bringing her in. This was gunna blow back and bite him on the arse. He could feel it now.

  15th November, 1825 hours – Connor’s parent’s house, Sunderland

  Connor found himself sat in the car outside his parent’s address again. It seemed to be the only thing he did, sitting there dreading going inside. It was worse today though: he’d struggled all day with what he’d found out the night before. He’d spent hours looking over photos of him as a child, innocent with blond hair and blue eyes. And he’d examined them for hints as to his lineage.