by L. T. Smith
She told us a brief history of his crimes and misdemeanours, nothing that would surprise us. Over the last four and a half years he had been brought to book twenty one times.
Twenty one times!
The only time Ash livened up was when Gemma said she should really go and speak to him. I saw her eyes become animated again, and she tried to hide the fact she was pleased to see the back of her with a question.
‘Have you noticed any change in Sam and his behaviour in the last couple of months?’
A simple enough question.
Gemma chewed her lip, her brows furrowing.
‘Well … erm …actually … now I come to think of it…’ she leaned forward almost conspiratorially. Both Ash and I followed suit and we gathered across the table as if we were planning world domination. ‘This last month Sam’s crimes have been a little more bizarre … and his behaviour too.’
‘Any chance he could be on drugs?’
Both Gemma and Ash looked at me and then looked away.
‘No … not like drugged bizarre. More like he seems as if he is even cockier than he already was. You know …’ No I didn’t. And neither did Ash by the look on her face. Gemma sighed the sigh of someone who is talking to an idiot. A pair of idiots, actually. ‘I mean he acts like he doesn’t care … like he is above the law.’
‘He’s always thought he was above the law, and being caught twenty one times should tell you that.’ I couldn’t hide the note of sarcasm in my voice. From the corner of my eye I saw Ash grin … you know … the crooked one that makes her seem so self-assured.
Gemma didn’t notice, or if she did she ignored it. ‘Above the law as in he isn’t afraid of being caught. Either he is trying to impress someone or he thinks he will get away with it for some strange reason.’
That knocked the grin off Ash’s face. ‘Has he mentioned anybody … anyone he is working for, or with?’
‘Not that I can remember … erm … wait a minute.’ And we did. Literally. Whilst she was wracking her brains trying to remember if King Shit had mentioned anyone else. ‘There was one person he kept on talking about … someone called Danny …’ We bolted upright on the chairs. Danny Spencer… it had to be him. ‘I’m sure he said Danny …’ Another pause. ‘A northerner who has come to Norfolk for a break.’
‘Think.’ Ash’s voice was stern and controlled. ‘Are you sure he said Danny? A northerner?’
‘I think so … but I wouldn’t stake my life on it.’
The conversation went on pretty much the same until Ash had convinced her to try and find out a bit more about Sam’s new friend. Funny thing was she didn’t really go into detail … not like she had for me anyway.
After Gemma left, the silence between us was deafening. I fiddled about with my coffee cup, taking sips of the cold liquid, grimacing behind the cup. Now and again, I stole glances at Ash. She was just sat staring ahead of her, her face unreadable, and those blue eyes half closed as if she was contemplating something.
‘If you’ve finished with me …’ I let the sentence drift off. And drift off it did … and hung about in the air for a bit. I sat and waited a little longer.
It was weird. Sitting with Ashley Richards after all of this time and not talking non stop. We had never had difficulty talking … and even if we did stop for breath, it was never uncomfortable. Although, strangely enough, it wasn’t uncomfortable now … just bloody weird.
Twenty years had passed and I was here with the person I had classed as the love of my life … obviously it was going to be weird. It couldn’t be anything else. Too much had happened in my life since the last time I spoke to her. Too much water had flowed under that proverbial bridge for it to be any other way. I was not the naïve seventeen year old from then. Thankfully.
‘So will you help us?’
Huh?
Crap. I had done it again. I had missed the beginning of a conversation … again. I hadn’t done that for years, and it was one thing I’d not missed.
‘Help you … do what, exactly?’
She leaned closer. ‘Help us put those little fuckers behind bars where they belong.’ Her face was mere inches from mine and my heart was hammering against my rib cage. I was definite she could hear it.
‘Sure.’ Good start, Turner. ‘But I’m telling you now, I’m not doing anything that’s illegal.’
Ash leaned back in her chair and let out a loud guffaw. Yes … some people still use the word guffaw. I just sat and stared at her, the anger inside began to bubble. What the fuck was she laughing at? Me? She’s better not be or else I …
‘Sorry about that.’ She didn’t look sorry. ‘It’s just … just … we’re the police and …’ and off she went again. I thought this would make me get angrier but I felt a laugh building up in my chest and snaking its way into my throat.
It was good hearing her laugh. It made me feel good to see, and hear, her laugh. I loved the way she looked so relaxed and happy, like the old Ash, you know, instead of the Detective Inspector Richards who had a stick up her arse.
So I joined in, and the more I laughed, the more she did too. A weight seemed to lift from my shoulders for the time we were in a state of uncontrollable hysterics.
Sometimes we forget, as we grow older, that laughter is good for the soul.
It was nearly five thirty in the morning by the time I turned my key in the lock of my front door. I should have been tired, but I was wide-awake. Too much had happened in the space of the last four hours for me to just strip and climb back into bed in search of Jodie Foster.
Holding a steaming cuppa, I strolled into my spare room that doubled as an office come storeroom, and sat at my desk. Piles of crap surrounded me, and I shuffled through it half-heartedly, holding the beverage in one hand whilst using the other to sift and separate unruly papers. I couldn’t concentrate on the job at hand, even burnt my lips twice on the tea. My mind was definitely elsewhere.
Placing the cup down on the desk, I turned my attention to the stack of boxes piled haphazardly in the far corner of the room. I stared at them for a while … just stared, before I tentatively moved across the room.
Inside my head my inner voice was telling me to just leave it … go to bed … now was not the time. But I was on a mission. In for a penny: in for a pound.
Quickly, I moved the top three boxes, as I knew where the object of my desire lay. The top of the box was the only one not sealed, and I pulled back the edges to reveal a tattered children’s book. Reverent fingers stroked the rippled and browned surface, across the faces of some badly illustrated characters, before they tentatively grasped the edges as if it would suddenly crumble into dust.
Gently I lifted it, placed a soft kiss on the cover, and laid it to the side. Underneath the book lay Yazoo’s Upstairs at Eric’s, the corners bent out of shape after being thrust into the box on countless occasions. It joined the book.
Next came the ultimate. Red. Woollen. Ash’s.
Carefully I lifted the jumper up to my face and brushed it over my lips, eliciting soft kisses along the front. Then I let the material hang limply in my arms before hugging it closely to my chest, like I was hugging a baby, protecting it … seeking comfort from it.
My heart felt fit to flood … to burst … to rip through my shirt and claim the owner of this jumper.
But that was never to be. The red jumper was the only thing I would ever have of hers.
It was nearly lunchtime when I woke to find the record stuck and repeating Alison Moyet’s voice over and over again … ‘you … you … you … you … you …’ with one crumpled and slightly wet red jumper nearly morphed into my face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
BY THREE O CLOCK Sunday afternoon, I was showered, fed and back at the station. The police could hold Sam for twenty-four hours, but then they had to let him go. They could charge him, which Ash had said they weren’t going to do, as it would ruin their chances of getting Spencer. This was going to be used as a ‘getting on the right sid
e of Sam’ period. And if we were lucky, maybe getting a bit more information from him before he was released back into the community.
A different desk sergeant escorted me down to the cells, and I felt a little disappointed to find Ash absent. Even a little hurt. Stupid, I know.
As the desk sergeant was turning to leave, after unlocking the cell door, the question popped out of my mouth before I had time to stop it.
‘Are you expecting Detective Inspector Richards back anytime soon?’
He stopped, and turned to face me fully. ‘She didn’t say what time she’d be back. Just that she was going to freshen up and eat.’ The face said ‘is that all’ and I just nodded and pushed the door open. It didn’t even enter my head that the sergeant should have stayed with me, I was too concerned about other things … and because of this I wasn’t paying attention.
Big mistake.
I was just inside the room when I felt someone grab my hair. The pain was excruciating. I was pulled backwards and slammed into the wall, and Sam was on me like a dog in heat, his face pressed up to mine. The whites of his eyes gave him a manic air and spittle was collecting around his mouth … spittle that flew into my face as he spat out ‘Bitch’.
Momentarily, I was paralysed.
Momentarily.
My knee came up to meet his crown jewels and I felt them crunch into his groin. I would have preferred them to be introducing themselves to his nostrils …
A puff of air escaped him and I saw the tears well up in his eyes, the only time I had ever seen him show emotion in them. My right arm came up and caught him under his chin, pushing him backwards and around so he was pinned against the wall by his windpipe. My left went between his legs and grabbed his testicles that were slowly descending to their rightful place.
I knew he wouldn’t be able to move, as both my arm and my hand were pushing and squeezing him into submission. I leaned in closer, my face showing him I was not best pleased by his greeting, my eyes flaring anger and resentment, not just at him, but at myself too.
The words I was going to deliver were cut off as the door to the cell was slammed back and Ash came rushing in. Her hair was flying; the panic in her eyes gave her the appearance of someone who had lost all sense of control.
‘You ok?’
I nodded. I was too angry to talk, and knew I would burst into tears if I opened my mouth. Sam was sliding down underneath my hand and I looked at is face. Sweat poured from him, and his cocky stance had been well and truly eliminated.
Fuck. What was I doing? I could lose my job …
It was as if I had been burned. My hands shot from him and he slumped to the floor, rubbing his neck and his crotch at the same time. For a brief moment he looked defeated, and then he looked me in the face. His eyes were full of hatred. And if they could have spoken they would have told me to watch my back.
‘Get up!’ Ash was standing in front of him; the tone of her voice told me that she was on the verge of doing something worse than I already had. I felt the fight leave me, all the energy seeping from my body and lying in a heap on the floor.
Sam didn’t move, just sat there glaring and rubbing. Ash didn’t ask him again, she just leaned down and grabbed the shoulder of his shirt and yanked him off the ground in one swift movement. His legs dangled like a puppet as she nearly threw him across the room where he stumbled onto the bed. ‘Sort yourself out, Read. I’ll be back in ten.’
With that, she turned to face me, her face softening instantly. ‘Come on, Lou. Let’s wait outside.’ I saw her begin to offer her hand to me, stop … look at what she was doing, then pull back. ‘Come on. We’ll talk to him later, ok?’
I nodded. The last thing I wanted was to come back into this cell and face Read again. But a little respite was good for a start.
Outside the cell, Ash turned to me her face full of apology. ‘I’m sorry you had to experience that. When the desk sergeant told me you were here and on your own … I panicked.’ Panicked? Why panicked? ‘I met him as I was coming down … I’d told them I was ok to see Read on my own, and they took it as he isn’t a threat.’ She snorted. ‘Bloody male egos.’
I could feel the emotion building up inside me once again, and the tears from before were begging for a performance. I tried swallowing rapidly to ease the pressure, but it just incensed them. One lone tear struggled free and trickled it way down my cheek.
‘Hey … come on. You’re safe now.’
Another tear chased the previous one. Bugger.
‘Oh Lou … come here.’ With that, I found myself in the arms of the woman I had loved all those years ago, my face buried in her chest, the smell of her exactly the same, her arms around me and hands stroking up and down my back.
Obviously, this made me cry even more. Not because of what had just happened, but because I knew this was the place I belonged …and I knew it was a place I could never hope to be.
This made me cry harder: made Ash hold me tighter … made this all one big vicious circle.
I knew I should have pulled away and pulled myself together. But instead I guiltily stayed in her arms and pulled myself to pieces instead.
In this life, you have to learn to take every crumb. However much it hurts.
One very hot and shaky cup of tea later, I had explained to Ash that I had taken martial arts when I had moved to Norfolk, as it seemed like a good place to meet people of my own age. She was quiet the whole time I was telling her about how difficult I had found settling in.
She looked surprised, and made as if to say something, when I told her that Jo had moved back to Manchester so soon after we had moved.
I paused, thinking I should ask her to say what was on her mind, but realised she had settled back into her chair and her face had closed off. This was a definite sign she wasn’t up for a major discussion. It would’ve turned into one, as what else could it have done. The conversation would have moved on to that night … the night … the night I had kissed her and she had kissed me.
No way. How could I even consider talking about something I knew she felt uncomfortable with? The past is best left there … in the past. There was no point dragging it up to analyse and decipher when all it would do was dredge up old wounds. My old wounds at that. Wounds that had never really healed in the first place.
‘I spoke to Gemma after you had gone.’ Her voice sounded eerily distant, and I looked at her, more than she was doing to me. She was staring at the far side of the canteen watching two uniformed police officers playing cards and laughing.
I didn’t respond, just looked back down at the empty mug I was holding fiercely in my hands.
‘She seems quite taken with you.’
My eyes shot up and were captured in blue. ‘Really?’
‘Yes. Really. She was disappointed you didn’t wait for her to finish talking to Read. Said it would have been good to compare notes.’ The last part of the sentence was spoken sarcastically, and quite cutting to say the least. ‘She asked me to give you this.’ A piece of paper was thrust into my face and I had to pull back to try and focus on it before I could take it. ‘Her phone number. She said, and I quote “Tell her to call me anytime”.’
If I didn’t know better I would’ve bet money on the fact Ash was jealous … even if it was a teeny bit … jealous.
Nah. She couldn’t be jealous of Gemma … could she? Why would she be jealous? Was it because I could get inside information and she couldn’t?
‘Well … are you going to take it or what?’
The piece of paper was dangling in front of me like the proverbial carrot, and Ash’s focus was on my face, which by this time had gone scarlet.
Slowly, my hand raised itself on its own volition to snag the paper between pert fingers. For a split second, I could feel Ash resist the pull, and I looked at her. One eyebrow had raised itself in mock challenge before the grin appeared.
‘Oi … give it up Richards.’
‘Give it up! Give what up?’ Her grip became firmer,
and I tugged again. She pulled it out of my way and then held it above her head. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Such a cocky grin.
I squinted my eyes at her and mock scowled. ‘Give it to me now…’
‘Feisty little bit aren’t you.’ Her eyes were twinkling and I could see the residue of the Ash I had known all those years ago. Beautiful. Happy. Off limits.
Definitely that. Off limits. My heart sank a little further in my chest and I could feel it nudging my stomach awake, which had been snoozing peacefully for a while.
‘Was that your stomach?’ I blushed. ‘Jesus, woman. Have you hidden a monster in there or what?’ Could I go any redder? ‘Let me feed you and then you can call Miss Jackson.’ She stood up and rummaged her hand through her pocket to look for cash. ‘Here.’
She threw the piece of paper in front of me and then sauntered off to the Servery, where she leaned on the counter, her gaze fixed on the dishes displayed in front of her.
Tentatively, I picked up the paper and unfolded it. Neat small writing greeted me and two phone numbers – one was her mobile. ‘Lovely to meet you. Fancy a coffee or something one day? Call me. Gemma’.
Shit. I didn’t think it would go as far as exchanging numbers. I only wanted to charm her a little bit so I could calm the situation.
Double shit. Now what would Ash think of me. I looked up from the paper to see Ash staring back, her expression seemed odd for a split second, like she was studying me studying the paper. Then as soon as it was there it was gone, and she turned around to pay the woman behind the counter before lifting a tray with a plate of something on it.
I felt guilty. Don’t ask me why, but I did. Stupid I know. For one … I was only looking at the piece of paper. And two … why should it matter to Ash who I wanted to see … although it kind of gave the game away about my sexuality. But then again, having me shove my tongue down her throat kind of gave her the idea I was gay in the first place.