by G D Sanders
‘You al’right, Eddie?’
‘I’m okay.’
‘Ya goin back to y’yard? Want me to come with?’
‘I’ll be all right, thanks.’
‘I’ll put the word out. Pum pums will get rushed next time. Nobody’s gonna get facety.’
‘Thanks, Craig, see you Monday.’
Walking home she’d wondered if Craig already had that power. Whatever, she was never bothered again. At home she mentioned the incident to her mother. By the following week her father had arranged self-defence classes. The emphasis was on surprise and effectiveness rather than orthodoxy. Ed was a natural. She never missed a meeting and soon few students fancied pairing up with her for a contact session.
At school, Craig often sought Ed’s advice about assignments but the incident at Morley’s was never mentioned. She knew he worked hard but he seldom performed as well as she thought he could. It was as if Craig was content to know his own strengths but unwilling to reveal them to others. Perhaps he felt this gave him an edge. The teachers regarded him as no more than average but among the students he had a position of authority which was never challenged. Ed wondered if his status had been won on the streets of Brixton because at school she’d never heard him threaten anyone, never seen an act of aggression.
Craig left school at the end of Year 11 and Ed returned to the Lower Sixth, assuming she’d never see him again – but she was wrong. Leaving the school gates a couple of weeks or so into the new term, she saw a group of students standing round a parked car. As she turned to walk home, a voice she knew well called her name.
‘Eddie! Why you in such a hurry? I’ve got my car. Come, I’ll give you a lift.’
Craig had left the group and was walking towards her. When he caught her eye, he half spun, making a show of pointing to his car.
‘It’s dope, ain’t it? Wanna come for a drive?’
It was all so unexpected, so unlikely, Ed was intrigued. Without a moment’s thought she said, ‘Okay.’ For weeks he was always there. Their roles reversed, he became the tutor and she surrendered enthusiastically to new experiences and new sensations. Ed was determined not to let her schoolwork suffer but she spent all her free time with Craig. He was happy to drive her around Brixton but when intent on parking somewhere discreet, he would drive further afield to quiet spots near the south London commons. If they wanted to see a film, Craig took her to the West End. They never went to clubs and never joined groups of friends.
All this changed when Ed discovered she was pregnant. Craig disappeared. Sometimes when they were together he’d get a message and, apologizing, say he had to go. Until the last time when she never saw him again. At home, her parents struggled to hide their disappointment and Ed felt she’d been left to face the future alone.
From the outside, the Ogbornes appeared to be the close-knit family they’d always been but, for Ed, the warmth she’d felt all her life had diminished. With her grandfather, things were different. They never spoke of Ed’s condition, or the decision she faced, and it was clear his love for ‘little Edina’ had never faltered. At first, she was uncertain what to do, then, in an instant, her mind was made up: she would not have a termination. The decision had arrived fully formed for reasons which were unarticulated and which Ed didn’t explore.
As her pregnancy progressed, Ed had worried about the consequences of raising the child as a single mother. Despite her anger at Craig’s abandonment, she’d wanted the best for their baby, her baby. After her son arrived she’d decided early to offer him for adoption and signed the papers six weeks after he was born.
Now, ten years later, Ed had long since ceased to contemplate the ways her life would have been different had she not opted for adoption. However, she’d never broken free from a nagging guilt: had she acted in her son’s best interests or her own?
14
Nat dropped Ed outside her hotel. During the short ride she formed the impression that her companions were silent because they had no wish to prolong the evening, at least not with her. Before Nat drove away Jenny moved to the front and Ed assumed her hunch was correct. She went straight to her room, checked her email and found the estate agent had confirmed all three of her viewings for Sunday. As she closed her laptop, one of the mobiles beside her bed began to vibrate. It could only be Don.
‘Hi, Eddie. Where are you?’
‘The County.’
‘Kent?’
‘A hotel in Canterbury.’
There was a pause. When he next spoke the note of irritation in his voice was more pronounced.
‘I called three times this evening. Why didn’t you pick up?’
‘I was out, didn’t have the mobile.’
‘Out …?’
‘With the team. Checking out lowlife.’
‘I thought you didn’t start ’til Monday.’
‘Suspected abduction last night. The Super introduced me to the CID team at 08.15 this morning. Everybody behaved as if I’d already started. No open arms so I didn’t rock the boat.’
‘Yeah … best to play it by the book.’
‘I thought so …’
‘Where are you now? In your room?’
‘Yes.’
‘In bed?’
‘No.’
At this moment, with Don on the other end of the line, bed was the last place she wanted to be. For Don it was different. When he called he only wanted one thing: telephone sex. That had been his aim from the very beginning, with the added frisson that they’d actually slept together. Impetuously, Ed had gone along with his suggestion, equally excited by their hands-off/hand-on encounters, but, on arriving in Canterbury, she’d drawn the line. Ed stayed where she was, at the desk with her laptop.
‘Eddie … it’s Don.’
The irritation had returned, tinged with surprise.
‘Yes …’
Of course it was Don. She was holding the cheap pay-as-you-go phone he’d given her in Manchester. Nobody else had the number.
‘Weren’t you expecting my call?’
‘Yes … No … I don’t know.’
‘What d’you mean, you don’t know?’
Ed thought for a moment. Last night in the hotel bar she’d finally made her decision. She should have done it months ago as soon as the furore broke in London, but back then she was in limbo waiting for her transfer to come through. After her meeting with CS Shawcross she’d needed comfort and sympathy. Instead, she’d settled for telephone sex. It was a brief release but, sod it, she enjoyed it while it lasted. Dumping Don wasn’t an act of revenge, simply ending that period in her life. Now was the time to go for it.
‘I hear you’ve got a new phone,’ she said.
‘Well … you’re in the sticks.’
‘And why’s that?’
‘Why …? Manchester.’
‘And why was I in Manchester?’
‘You were ideal.’
‘For Manchester?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ideal for you in Manchester?’
‘For the conference.’
‘And for you?’
‘Come on, Eddie.’
It was still the same old Don. Had she really expected him to be different? The Don might grace you with his favours but only for as long as it gave him what he wanted. What had he ever given her? Good sex, well, that worked both ways. The mobile phone, yes, but from the sounds she heard he got as much from it as she did. What had he given her that wasn’t also a gift to himself? There’d been no consideration for her position following the furore. This wasn’t revenge, but she was going to enjoy goading him a while longer.
‘Don, it was you, wasn’t it? You fixed my trip to Manchester.’
‘Eddie, you know the score.’
‘Do I, Don?’
‘Sure you knew.’
‘And Canterbury?’
‘Canterbury?’
‘What’s the score there?’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Old Boys 1; N
aive Bitches 0?’
‘For Christ’s sake!’
‘Oh, it was for him too, was it?’
Ed smiled to herself in the mirror, enjoying Don’s discomfort. She savoured a sense of power that was different from her manipulation of their telephone conversations, holding back from the brink, tension gone, relaxed because the end is inevitable, poised waiting for the moment of release and surrender to the uncontrollable rush when every aspect of existence is reduced to a single point of concentrated feeling, waiting, knowing it will burst, radiating to every extremity, muscles tensing to prolong the sensation.
‘Be reasonable, Eddie.’
Reason was the last thing on her mind when she felt her toes curl involuntarily and she knew … but no. She dragged her thoughts back to the present. Decision made, it was time to deliver the message.
‘What was reasonable about the way I was treated?’
‘One of us had to go?’
‘The junior officer?’
‘My hands were tied.’
‘Band of gold?’
‘Come on, Ed. You knew—’
‘—the score?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s not go there again.’
Don was silent. She waited. This wasn’t a last chance; she’d stopped thinking about immediate gratification and she would have liked him to do the same. Just one time, if he could stop thinking only of himself she’d be able to feel better about their relationship. If only he would ask her how things were in Canterbury. It was a forlorn expectation. He hadn’t done so earlier when she’d prompted him so there was little chance he’d do it now. Nonetheless, Ed let him stew. Finally he broke the silence.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘Don’t bother. I’m upgrading.’
‘Upgrading what?’
‘The phone.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s an old model, about to be superseded.’
‘It does the job.’
Her mind flashed back to previous times she’d held the mobile with Don’s voice in her ear. She looked at the bed but remained resolute.
‘It did the job.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I want a new model too.’
‘You’ll transfer the number?’
‘No.’
‘What do you mean, No?’
‘New job, new phone, new number.’
Ed wasn’t sure where the new model would come from but she was determined that her relationship with Don was at an end.
‘Eddie!’ Irritation had turned to exasperation.
Ed had no second thoughts.
‘Goodbye, Don.’
There was a pause. The tone of his voice changed. ‘I’m sorry.’
Ed knew this was not contrition for the way he had behaved but perhaps it was genuine sorrow that he was losing her. Maybe his new model was falling short of the old. She smiled at the unvoiced compliment but he was too late. Her mind was made up.
‘I’m sorry too.’ Ed was sorry for many things. It had been a mistake to start the affair in the first place but she needed a man in her life and in that sense it had been good while it lasted. Would smart hotels always remind her of that? Something cool … She closed her eyes to block her view of the room.
‘Can’t we …?’
‘No.’
‘Eddie …?’
‘You’ve got to go.’
‘You’ve got to go? What’s the rush?’
‘No, Don, you’ve got to go. It’s over.’
‘No chance …?’
With her decision made and the message delivered, Ed was rapidly losing interest in the conversation.
‘None.’
‘So that’s it?’
‘That’s it, Don.’
She was about to end the call but before she could speak he became decisive.
‘Okay, but don’t forget—’
‘Forget what?’
‘The phone’s mine.’
‘What do you want to do – recycle it?’
As if on cue Ed’s work mobile rang.
‘Work calls. Goodbye, Don.’
She thumbed off the personal phone, tossed it across the room and reached for her work mobile. It could only be someone from the Canterbury force. Stay cool, play it by the book.
‘DS Ogborne.’
‘Hi, Ed. It’s Brian … DI Saunders. I’m in the hotel bar and thought you might like to join me for a nightcap.’
Something cool … not again. She hadn’t come to Canterbury to jump straight into bed with another colleague. Ed hadn’t given much thought to DI Saunders but her first impression had been of a good cop and a family man. There was every sign that they would have been able to work well together. It was unfortunate that her arrival had resulted in him being pushed out to Maidstone. Surely he wasn’t hitting on her already? If so, she’d have to let him down gently. He wasn’t her type. Even if she’d been up for it there was no way she’d have been tempted.
‘Give me five minutes.’
15
Four and a half minutes later Ed walked into the hotel bar. DI Saunders was at a corner table, his glass already empty. Seeing her approach he started to his feet.
‘What’ll you have?’ he asked.
The barman was already coming to the table.
‘You’re empty. I’ll get them. What’s yours?’
‘Single malt, Bowmore. Thanks.’ Saunders sank back into his chair.
Ed turned to the barman. ‘Good evening, Gino. A double Bowmore, and a vodka tonic for me, please. Charge it to my room.’
‘Certainly, Ms Ogborne.’
‘You seem to have settled in well.’
‘It was easier here than at the Station.’
‘I guess so.’ Saunders looked shamefaced. ‘Actually, that’s one of the reasons I’m here.’
Ed relaxed. For the moment at least his late-night visit was work-related. Their drinks arrived and she raised her glass.
‘Cheers.’
Saunders acknowledged her toast and they sat in silence, sipping their drinks.
‘So, what did you want to say about work?’
‘Let’s leave that for a moment. First I want to give you the full story behind tonight’s incident in the pub.’
‘I assumed there was previous.’
‘Fynn McNally is the local big fish in a small pond. He’s behind most of the villainy that goes on round here. If he’s not behind it he expects a slice.’
‘What’s going on between McNally and DS Potts?’
‘It goes back to childhood.’ Saunders took a sip of whisky. ‘They were at school together. McNally’s always been a bully. Mike got some of it when he was a boy. Their lives went different ways and then collided when Mike became a copper. He wasn’t vindictive but he was always out to get McNally for his crimes. The trouble is, McNally’s a wily bastard; he’s smart and he knows it.’
‘I don’t see how that accounts for this evening’s outburst.’
‘There’s more. Three years ago Mike’s younger daughter, Susanne, was killed in a hit and run. The word is that McNally was responsible but we can’t prove it. He got to witnesses and made sure they’ll not talk. He knows he’s safe and the arrogant bastard enjoys rubbing it in.’
‘But attempted assault with a knife, surely he’ll go down for that?’
‘That was out of character, a big mistake. It was a crazy stunt to pull with all of us as witnesses. Of course, his friends will testify that DS Potts made the first threatening gestures and it’ll be their word against ours. He’ll not be inside for long.’
‘Thanks for telling me.’ Ed toyed with her glass for a moment and then asked, ‘Has Mike got other children?’
‘An older daughter and a son, both at university. He and his wife took Susanne’s death hard. Reminders from the likes of McNally don’t help. I’m sure Mike’s over the initial hurt but he’s collapsed in on himself. The drive he once had has gone. I think he’d like to put the
loss of his daughter behind him but something’s preventing that. He’s always ready to go for a drink after work. I wonder if things aren’t too good at home.’
After the DI’s behaviour at the team meeting that morning, Ed was surprised Saunders was now treating her like a trusted colleague. She nodded sympathetically and thought she’d use the moment.
‘And the DCs, Jenny and Nat, what can you tell me about them?’
‘Neither has been with us long but both come with baggage.’
‘Don’t we all?’
Ed received the briefest look from Saunders as if her throwaway comment held particular significance but he quickly continued.
‘Despite their youth, I don’t think either’s had the easiest of times.’
‘How so?’
‘Nat played football, had a trial with Gillingham FC. He won a development contract but was let go at the end of the year. By all accounts he took it badly, gave up football and joined the Force.’
‘And Jenny?’
‘Ah, you’ve noticed. It’s clear he fancies her but, on that score, she’s more difficult to read.’
‘I meant her background?’
‘Right … something’s not gone well in her life. I don’t know the details but I gather it’s personal. Since joining the Force, she’s making good progress.’ He paused as if going to expand but appeared to change his mind and concluded, ‘Both are shaping up to be good officers.’
Ed took a couple of sips of her drink and waited for Saunders to continue. He filled the pause with a mouthful of malt before leaning towards her without touching the table.
Alarm bells rang and Ed became wary but Brian’s next words were not what she expected.
‘I’m sorry you had such a cold reception.’
‘It was to be expected given the nature of my arrival. I’m sorry you’ve been transferred to Maidstone. I was unaware, knew nothing ’til I got here.’
‘If you’re feeling bad, don’t. I’m the one who should apologize.’
‘You? Apologize?’ Ed was genuinely puzzled. ‘What on earth for?’
‘I’m not sorry to be moving. I should’ve made that clear to my colleagues. I’ve known them for years. Couldn’t bring myself to make them think I was pleased to get out.’