Strangers by Paul Finch Page A

back for me though.’

    ‘I’m surprised you want a way back in after the way they treated you last time.’
    ‘Mum, come on … I’m lucky I’m still in the job.’
    ‘Some of us wouldn’t mind if you weren’t.’
    ‘I know that, but look –’ Lucy embraced her ‘– this is me. It’s my life, okay?’
    ‘Yes, yes, I know.’ Cora returned the embrace but a little stiffly. ‘And we’ve had this conversation before … so stop going on about it, you silly old trout.’
    Lucy pecked her on the cheek. ‘I’ve never called you “a silly old trout”.’
    ‘You’ve thought it, I’m sure.’
    ‘The thing is, I’m mainly going to be working nights for the next few weeks.’
    Cora considered this with visible apprehension.
    Lucy knew why, and that it would be unrelated to her mother’s own safety.
    With its edificial industrial ruins and rows of red-brick terraced houses, Saltbridge was not the most salubrious part of Crowley. Like so many working class neighbourhoods in the post-manufacturing era, it was extensively unemployed, drugs and alcoholism were rife and it suffered higher than normal crime rates. But Cora had lived here all of Lucy’s life at least, a dauntless single mum who’d never once been oppressed or intimidated by the environment in which she’d been forced to raise her child. These days, having held a management position for several years, she could probably afford to move out to the suburbs if she wanted to, but she had friends locally and was comfortable here.
    ‘How long will this assignment last?’ Cora asked.
    ‘As long as it takes. Could be a few months. But don’t worry. I’m not going to be in harm’s way.’
    ‘I bet you thought that last time too. And then look what happened. You were relieved you didn’t lose your job. All that mattered to me was that I didn’t lose my child.’

    Lucy smiled tiredly. It was tempting to retort with the provable fact that uniformed patrol, her current role, was one of the most dangerous jobs a police officer could undertake, and that detectives didn’t encounter violent criminals half as often as bobbies on the beat did. But that would hardly help. Perhaps if Lucy had earned herself some stripes by now, or maybe an inspector’s pips, things would be different. She’d be able to con her mum into thinking that each shift was spent in the hermetically sealed environment of a supervisor’s office, rubber-stamping reports all day. But though Lucy had already passed both her sergeant’s and inspector’s exams, she hadn’t received the call just yet. Positive discrimination was a big thing in the service these days. The top brass were keen to advance the careers of their female underlings, but perhaps not when said underling was the child of a single parent from the wrong side of town – a child who didn’t even know her father, and especially not after that foul-up in Borsdane Wood.
    ‘So you’ll be here this evening when I get home?’ Cora said, opening the back door.
    ‘Certainly will. I’ll have tea ready and waiting.’
    ‘Lovely. That’ll make us square. Your breakfast’s in the oven.’
    ‘Oh cool … I’m starving.’ Lucy pulled on a padded glove and drew out the hotplate, and was delighted to see bacon, eggs, sausage, beans, grilled tomato and toast. ‘Mum! You shouldn’t have gone to this much trouble.’
    ‘I know I shouldn’t, but I have to make it worth your while coming home, don’t I? Otherwise one day you might not.’
    ‘Don’t be silly.’ Lucy kissed her on the forehead. ‘Go on … you’ll be late.’

Chapter 5
    An executive decision was taken to locate Operation Clearway’s Major Incident Room, or MIR as it was known in the trade, at Robber’s Row. The taskforce took residence on its top two floors, where suites of offices were available which already were well equipped and close to all necessary facilities. The MIR itself was on the lower of these, the station’s fourth floor, where the