okay.”
After the policemen had gone, Harold fought his tiredness to keep his eyes on the door, waiting hopefully for Steve to return. Presently his son’s face appeared, tentatively checking the coast was clear, and Harold was relieved that Beryl had fallen asleep again, because he wanted to protect her from the truth he knew. Steve came into the room shiftily, almost tiptoeing, and joined his father, sitting beside him in the chair Taylor had evacuated. “What did the police want, Dad?”
Harold shook his head. Every bone in his body wanted to congratulate and thank Steve for defending his sister, but, on the other hand, he’d always maintained that disputes should be settled without violence. He could think of nothing that wouldn’t sound hypocritical. “They don’t suspect you, son.”
Steve’s jaw dropped. “How did you know it was me?” It was a hushed growl, issued from a concerned face. He let his eyes wander to his sister, still serene in her comatose state. “He did this, Dad, you know as well as I do that he did. But this time it’s not just her, it’s her baby too. He deserved it. He deserved more.”
“Maybe so, but you don’t deserve to be put in prison for assault for protecting your sister, and that’s what will happen if the truth ever gets out. So let it go. I won’t say a word, don’t you dare say anything to your mother, and we’ll pretend this never happened. I can’t imagine Sophie will stay with him after this. If it was down to him, which, I hasten to add, we don’t know for certain, then the police will discover that. So hopefully this will be the end of the matter. Clear?”
The police had taken a while to trace Bob and Maureen Delaney from the scant details received from Harold Waller, so it was morning before they finished the drive to Derby to see their son. They were relieved when they saw him sitting up in bed eating toast. His face was blackened and swollen, a few minor cuts, and his head was bandaged, but he seemed in good form, smiling as they paced hurriedly towards him. Bob was stunned. “Bloody hell, son, you don’t do things by halves, do you!”
Darren put his toast back on the plate, half eaten, and took his mother’s outstretched hand. “It hurts, Mam, it bloody hurts.”
Gently stroking his forehead, his cheek, smoothing the covers, straightening the water jug. “I’m sure it does, baby, I’m sure it does. Have they given you painkillers?” She suddenly yelled across the ward. “Nurse! My son needs morphine, he’s in tremendous pain. Nurse!”
“Mam! Stop shouting, everyone’s looking.” Darren indicated the soft armchair beside the bed, while Bob drew up another. Maureen sat on the edge of the seat, leaning over the bed as she made sure the sheets were perfectly arranged.
“Baby, who did this to you? The police say they don’t know, which is ridiculous, I say, they get paid to do nothing. They should have him behind bars by now. What we pay taxes for, I just don’t know.”
“Mam, it’s only just happened and nobody saw anything. I’m sure they’re doing their best.” Darren winced, not really in pain but enjoying the motherly sympathy curling around him.
It came from the blue. “Move to Mallorca with us, Darren.” Bob stared at his wife, nonplussed. “You can’t stay in a country where things like this happen, that’s why we’re moving abroad, the crime, the violence. Just think of it, baby, sun every day, you’ve got a good trade, you’ll find work, we’ve still got the profits from the sale of your flat in our investment account, we’d double it so you could buy a nice place, help you out in any way you needed. What do you say, baby?”
Darren laughed as hard as his swollen mouth would allow, Bob’s eyes were still widened from the suggestion that had come out of the blue. “Mam! I can’t just give up everything here, not just like that.”
“Yes you could, of course you could, we’d help you in any way, with
After the policemen had gone, Harold fought his tiredness to keep his eyes on the door, waiting hopefully for Steve to return. Presently his son’s face appeared, tentatively checking the coast was clear, and Harold was relieved that Beryl had fallen asleep again, because he wanted to protect her from the truth he knew. Steve came into the room shiftily, almost tiptoeing, and joined his father, sitting beside him in the chair Taylor had evacuated. “What did the police want, Dad?”
Harold shook his head. Every bone in his body wanted to congratulate and thank Steve for defending his sister, but, on the other hand, he’d always maintained that disputes should be settled without violence. He could think of nothing that wouldn’t sound hypocritical. “They don’t suspect you, son.”
Steve’s jaw dropped. “How did you know it was me?” It was a hushed growl, issued from a concerned face. He let his eyes wander to his sister, still serene in her comatose state. “He did this, Dad, you know as well as I do that he did. But this time it’s not just her, it’s her baby too. He deserved it. He deserved more.”
“Maybe so, but you don’t deserve to be put in prison for assault for protecting your sister, and that’s what will happen if the truth ever gets out. So let it go. I won’t say a word, don’t you dare say anything to your mother, and we’ll pretend this never happened. I can’t imagine Sophie will stay with him after this. If it was down to him, which, I hasten to add, we don’t know for certain, then the police will discover that. So hopefully this will be the end of the matter. Clear?”
The police had taken a while to trace Bob and Maureen Delaney from the scant details received from Harold Waller, so it was morning before they finished the drive to Derby to see their son. They were relieved when they saw him sitting up in bed eating toast. His face was blackened and swollen, a few minor cuts, and his head was bandaged, but he seemed in good form, smiling as they paced hurriedly towards him. Bob was stunned. “Bloody hell, son, you don’t do things by halves, do you!”
Darren put his toast back on the plate, half eaten, and took his mother’s outstretched hand. “It hurts, Mam, it bloody hurts.”
Gently stroking his forehead, his cheek, smoothing the covers, straightening the water jug. “I’m sure it does, baby, I’m sure it does. Have they given you painkillers?” She suddenly yelled across the ward. “Nurse! My son needs morphine, he’s in tremendous pain. Nurse!”
“Mam! Stop shouting, everyone’s looking.” Darren indicated the soft armchair beside the bed, while Bob drew up another. Maureen sat on the edge of the seat, leaning over the bed as she made sure the sheets were perfectly arranged.
“Baby, who did this to you? The police say they don’t know, which is ridiculous, I say, they get paid to do nothing. They should have him behind bars by now. What we pay taxes for, I just don’t know.”
“Mam, it’s only just happened and nobody saw anything. I’m sure they’re doing their best.” Darren winced, not really in pain but enjoying the motherly sympathy curling around him.
It came from the blue. “Move to Mallorca with us, Darren.” Bob stared at his wife, nonplussed. “You can’t stay in a country where things like this happen, that’s why we’re moving abroad, the crime, the violence. Just think of it, baby, sun every day, you’ve got a good trade, you’ll find work, we’ve still got the profits from the sale of your flat in our investment account, we’d double it so you could buy a nice place, help you out in any way you needed. What do you say, baby?”
Darren laughed as hard as his swollen mouth would allow, Bob’s eyes were still widened from the suggestion that had come out of the blue. “Mam! I can’t just give up everything here, not just like that.”
“Yes you could, of course you could, we’d help you in any way, with
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