have her career progression so inextricably tied to your own decisions and actions. Now, if there’s nothing else, I think we’re about done.’
DC Gail Foster filled in her last form of the day, the ninth relating to a simple shoplifting from Kendal town centre the previous weekend, and looked at her watch. Her shift had been over for half an hour, and so had Ian Mann’s, but he was still showing no signs of stirring. In fact he was scowling at his computer monitor, stabbing at the keyboard, and swearing occasionally. It wasn’t like him to be grumpy, she thought, as she gathered her stuff. He was a little scary, always, but rarely bad tempered.
‘See you tomorrow, Ian,’ she said, stopping next to his desk.
‘Aye. See you then. Have a good night.’
‘I won’t. Evening in with a ready meal for one.’
Mann didn’t look up. ‘Learn to cook, lass. You’re never alone with a wok, like.’
She laughed, then stopped. It was often difficult to tell when Ian was actually joking, because he so rarely cracked a smile.
‘So what are you up to, then?’
‘Bit of a run. Maybe meet a mate later. Nothing much.’
She nodded, and turned to go. Then she stopped and turned back towards Mann.
‘Ian, there was something I wanted to ask you.’
‘Go on then. I’ll not bite. I’ve been on the course, see, and all that’s stopped. Well, I say stopped…’
This time she was pretty sure that he was joking.
‘It was about this morning.’
‘Remind me.’
‘About what that lassie, Lizzie Robinson, said to us. If she grassed on that fat bloke and his mate, would we be able to look after her?’
Mann looked up from his computer. ‘Five years ago, even two years ago I’d have said aye, of course we would. And the likes of Capstone would have known it, too. But the trouble is that they know we’re so bloody short of bobbies. They see it in our response times, who they get interviewed by, all the things they get to skate on that they’d have done six months for a year or two back. They may be thick, but even the cons can read the writing on the wall.’
‘So we’d not be able to protect her?’
‘I’m not saying we wouldn’t nick the bastards, Gail, don’t get me wrong. But that’d be strictly after the event, after she’d had her ribs caved in for her. And by the time it came to court she’d be so shit scared that she probably wouldn’t even be able to go through with it.’
‘So what she said was right, you reckon?’
Ian Mann looked back at his keyboard, and took it out on the space bar.
‘Aye, lass, I suppose she bloody well was, at that.’
Jane Francis half listened to Andy Hall as she was feeding Grace, and made a range of little noises that she hoped would sooth one, or possibly even both of them.
‘There, there. You’re right, Andy, the bloke is a clever bastard. They call him Cromwell at work, you know that? He’s obviously hoping that drawing me into this will get you to self-censor, and not do anything that would drop me in it. That just goes to show that he doesn’t know you at all though, doesn’t it?’
Hall smiled. ‘You don’t mean that, love.’
‘Don’t I? I’m not bloody banking on it. So I suppose you’ll want to start going through the file? I’ll send an email to that old boot in records to authorise you.’
‘I was hoping to start tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow? But I’m at work, remember? What’s the plan with her Grace?’
‘I was going to take her in with me. I doubt there’s a law against it.’
‘Really? Bloody hell, you are keen.’
‘It’ll be fine.’
‘I’m sure it will. Everything will be fine.’
Later, when Grace was down in her cot, and the couple were sitting in the warm garden watching the last of the daylight fade, Jane put her hand on Andy’s.
‘So, love, just a couple of ground rules.’
‘All right’, he said, a little guardedly.
‘Don’t be like that. We both know that the ACC has taken me
DC Gail Foster filled in her last form of the day, the ninth relating to a simple shoplifting from Kendal town centre the previous weekend, and looked at her watch. Her shift had been over for half an hour, and so had Ian Mann’s, but he was still showing no signs of stirring. In fact he was scowling at his computer monitor, stabbing at the keyboard, and swearing occasionally. It wasn’t like him to be grumpy, she thought, as she gathered her stuff. He was a little scary, always, but rarely bad tempered.
‘See you tomorrow, Ian,’ she said, stopping next to his desk.
‘Aye. See you then. Have a good night.’
‘I won’t. Evening in with a ready meal for one.’
Mann didn’t look up. ‘Learn to cook, lass. You’re never alone with a wok, like.’
She laughed, then stopped. It was often difficult to tell when Ian was actually joking, because he so rarely cracked a smile.
‘So what are you up to, then?’
‘Bit of a run. Maybe meet a mate later. Nothing much.’
She nodded, and turned to go. Then she stopped and turned back towards Mann.
‘Ian, there was something I wanted to ask you.’
‘Go on then. I’ll not bite. I’ve been on the course, see, and all that’s stopped. Well, I say stopped…’
This time she was pretty sure that he was joking.
‘It was about this morning.’
‘Remind me.’
‘About what that lassie, Lizzie Robinson, said to us. If she grassed on that fat bloke and his mate, would we be able to look after her?’
Mann looked up from his computer. ‘Five years ago, even two years ago I’d have said aye, of course we would. And the likes of Capstone would have known it, too. But the trouble is that they know we’re so bloody short of bobbies. They see it in our response times, who they get interviewed by, all the things they get to skate on that they’d have done six months for a year or two back. They may be thick, but even the cons can read the writing on the wall.’
‘So we’d not be able to protect her?’
‘I’m not saying we wouldn’t nick the bastards, Gail, don’t get me wrong. But that’d be strictly after the event, after she’d had her ribs caved in for her. And by the time it came to court she’d be so shit scared that she probably wouldn’t even be able to go through with it.’
‘So what she said was right, you reckon?’
Ian Mann looked back at his keyboard, and took it out on the space bar.
‘Aye, lass, I suppose she bloody well was, at that.’
Jane Francis half listened to Andy Hall as she was feeding Grace, and made a range of little noises that she hoped would sooth one, or possibly even both of them.
‘There, there. You’re right, Andy, the bloke is a clever bastard. They call him Cromwell at work, you know that? He’s obviously hoping that drawing me into this will get you to self-censor, and not do anything that would drop me in it. That just goes to show that he doesn’t know you at all though, doesn’t it?’
Hall smiled. ‘You don’t mean that, love.’
‘Don’t I? I’m not bloody banking on it. So I suppose you’ll want to start going through the file? I’ll send an email to that old boot in records to authorise you.’
‘I was hoping to start tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow? But I’m at work, remember? What’s the plan with her Grace?’
‘I was going to take her in with me. I doubt there’s a law against it.’
‘Really? Bloody hell, you are keen.’
‘It’ll be fine.’
‘I’m sure it will. Everything will be fine.’
Later, when Grace was down in her cot, and the couple were sitting in the warm garden watching the last of the daylight fade, Jane put her hand on Andy’s.
‘So, love, just a couple of ground rules.’
‘All right’, he said, a little guardedly.
‘Don’t be like that. We both know that the ACC has taken me
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