Choked

122

There was Don, in uniform. Alone. Young, unbending, standing stiffly for the camera, unsmiling for fear of not being taken seriously. A man on a mission, with something to prove.

Then out of uniform, with his mates. All wearing the same ensemble of wide-lapelled jackets in shades of brown or oversized checks, huge-collared shirts and kipper ties, sporting the same overlong hair and Elvis sideburns, showing the same cocky smiles and glinting eyes. Thief takers and dandies, gods among men. Plenty of laughter at that.

Then him and Eileen. In a garden, at a barbecue, eating chicken legs, drinking beer. Looking happy. With everything ahead of them.

Eileen choked at that one. Recovered quickly.

Then the two of them with Phil as a small child. Hard to decide which of them looked happiest.

Then others, all variations on the same theme, all showing different aspects of the same man. Admirable aspects, strong, lovable. Over and over in a continuous loop.

A celebration of Don Brennan. His life in pictures.

And words. All around the room, sitting at tables, standing at the bar, stories were being told and retold, anecdotes shared. People laughing together, fighting off the darkness.

Marina looked round. Her heart heavy with grief but lightened by the fact that she had known the man, that he had been an important part of her life.

The service had been at the crematorium. Humanist. The speaker had come to see them days ago, asked about Don, his character, his likes and dislikes, any stories they wanted her to tell, any they wanted to avoid. Marina and Phil had done most of the talking, Eileen still too emotional.

The speaker had been excellent. Others had been asked to contribute. One of Don’s old colleagues had got up to say something. A big ex-copper, broken-nosed and red-faced, heavier than when he was in the job but still carrying himself with authority, had made his way to the podium, started to tell an anecdote about Don, stumbled over his words, burst into tears. Had to be led away.

Then it was Phil’s turn.

Marina had told him he didn’t have to do it if he didn’t want to. If he didn’t feel up to it. Or if he needed help getting to the lectern and back, she would assist. He refused all offers. He felt it was something he had to do alone and unaided.

It was over a week since Easter, since she had walked into his hospital room and held him and held him and held him. And never wanted to let him go.

He had been discharged from the hospital and was at home convalescing, on sick leave from work. His injuries hadn’t been as severe as had first been thought. He would be up and about, walking more or less unaided, in a few days. He had turned down the offer of a wheelchair and only reluctantly accepted a crutch. He was determined to get better. And he had been determined to speak at Don’s funeral.

He had squeezed Marina’s hand before getting up and she had looked into his eyes. Haunted and damaged, almost mirrors of her own. But eyes she loved. Eyes she never tired of looking into, where she found everything she hoped for being returned to her.

He had smiled, got slowly to his feet and, the crutch in his left hand, made his way to the lectern.

He spoke without notes. From his heart, his soul. He told everyone there that, in case they didn’t know, he had been adopted by Don and Eileen. He wasn’t their biological son. And they weren’t his biological parents. They were more than that. So much more.

He had gone on to talk of what Don had meant to him. How he owed his career, his attitude, everything he had to him. And how he would miss him. God, how he would miss him.

There was more. But Marina couldn’t remember it. She had been crying too much.

When he had finished, Phil had walked back to her side. Alone. Unaided.

And in that moment, she knew everything was going to be all right.

123

Marina had barely let Josephina out of her sight. Even in the hospital when they wanted to check her over she had insisted on being with her. She wouldn’t be parted for one second. And Josephina, clinging to her, felt exactly that same way.

Once they had returned home, there had been a week of sleepless nights. Josephina not wanting to close her eyes in case the scary woman was there. Marina had done everything she could to reassure the child, and she had gradually started to sleep. But the nights then became punctuated by nightmares, with Josephina waking up crying and screaming. They had moved her bed into their bedroom to have her near to them. Eventually they had just let her into their bed.

She hadn’t let go of Lady. Marina had tried to take the toy off her, wash it at least, but Josephina wouldn’t let her. So there it had stayed. Filthy dirty, ragged, but loved.

And that was OK.

One night after getting Josephina into bed, Marina and Phil had sat in their living room, trying to lead normal lives once more. Pretend they were ordinary again. Sharing a bottle of wine.

‘Only to be expected,’ Phil had said, ‘after what she’s been through.’

‘Oh, absolutely,’ Marina had replied.

‘Is she going to be … you know. Scarred by this for life.’

Marina had shrugged. ‘I hope not. You and I had much more traumatic childhoods and we did all right.’

‘We were lucky, though,’ said Phil. ‘We found ways out.’

‘True. We’ll just have to make sure that Josephina doesn’t need luck. Children are resilient and they can forget things. But trauma like this can do massive damage. Massive. Even if she buries it deep in her subconscious, under all the other layers of memory she’ll acquire. There’ll be some trace memory of it, some emotional unease.’

‘Should we be worried about that?’

‘I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see. All we can do is be there for her. Make her feel safe. Loved. Yes, take her to a specialist if we need to, if things get worse and she needs professional help. But for now, let’s just see how it goes. Let’s help her to get over it.’

Phil said nothing.

‘We’re here,’ said Marina. ‘We’re alive. That’s the main thing. If we’re alive there’s always hope.’

‘And human beings forget things,’ said Phil. ‘Memories fade. Pain fades. It’s how we can carry on. All of us.’

She looked across at him. Wondered if the words hadn’t just been about their daughter but his father as well.

They had sat in silence.

124

In the upstairs room of the King’s Head, amidst the noise of the mourners and celebrants, with Don’s pictures on the wall behind them, Phil and Marina stood like a small island. The calm at the eye of the storm.

Franks looked over at them, nodded. But didn’t come any closer. Marina wasn’t surprised.

Franks had been furious with Marina for what she had done that night in Wrabness. He had called her into his office the next day, didn’t invite her to sit. He clearly wanted to stay sitting himself but was too angry so stood up, faced her over the desk top.

‘What the bloody hell did you think you were playing at? That was a police operation and you are one of this team. You were given a direct instruction and you ignored it.’

Marina stood up to him. ‘And it was a good job I did. If I’d waited for you to get there, my daughter might well have been dead.’

Franks’s mouth had twisted but he hadn’t given her a reply. ‘We were right behind you. And not only did you interfere with a police operation, you left a murder scene. One dead, two seriously injured.’

‘I had my daughter to take care of. And as you said, you and the team were on the way.’

Franks didn’t seem to have been spoken to like this before. He didn’t know quite how to respond. Anger and sympathy vied for prominence in his features. He sighed. ‘Yes. I understand. I realise you were under a lot of strain, with what you’ve had to go through in the last few days. But it doesn’t alter the fact that you’re part of this team. And there’s a chain of command. This is the Major Incident Squad, not some cowboy outfit. If you can’t understand that and be part of it, then perhaps it’s best you’re not here.’

‘Fine,’ she said.

‘What?’ He stopped talking, stared at her, surprised at her answer. ‘You mean that?’

‘Yes, I do. I’ve been thinking about it a lot in the last couple of days. Maybe it’s time I had a change.’

Franks fell silent for a few seconds, then nodded. ‘Right. Spend some time at home. With your daughter.’

‘Yes. And go back into private practice. Or consultancy. Or academia. Somewhere where my talents will be more appreciated.’

Franks reddened, tried to say something consoling, but she was no longer listening.

And that had been the end of that.

125

Sandro had visited Marina and Phil a few nights earlier. Gone to their home and been welcomed in. Well that makes a change, he had thought. Hell of a change. He had even sat with Phil, drank a beer. Talked. He wasn’t a bad bloke, Sandro had decided. For a copper.

But when Marina pulled him aside into the kitchen to have a word in private, he knew what she was about to say.

‘You OK?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘Well as can be expected. You?’

‘Yeah.’ He sighed. Ran his hand over his head. ‘Mental.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Marina said.

Sandro nodded. He knew what she was talking about.

‘I shouldn’t have left you to make that choice. Open the trapdoor or not. It should never have happened.’

Sandro shrugged, aimed for nonchalance. Missed. ‘I couldn’t leave her,’ he said. ‘Just walk out of that house and leave her to die.’ He sighed. ‘I couldn’t.’

Marina nodded.

‘It was a crazy night.’ Sandro thought for a while, head down. Then looked up, directly at Marina. ‘I’ve been thinkin’ about this, though. A lot. What happened with the Golem, that was a fight, yeah? Proper kill-or-be-killed fight.’

‘What you did was self-defence.’

‘Yeah. But leaving that madwoman there, even after everything she’d done, that would have made you just as bad. And me.’

‘I’ve been thinking about Mum again,’ said Marina. ‘What she did for us. A mother will do anything, Sandro, anything — everything — to protect her children. Our mother put herself, her own body, in the way of blows meant for us. All I could see was Josephina. All I wanted to do was … neutralise the threat to her as best I could.’

‘And I let her out.’

‘She was no threat then. Not really. But you were the one with compassion.’

‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘Maybe I don’t take after Dad after all.’

‘Maybe you don’t.’

He smiled. ‘Maybe there’s hope for me yet.’

Marina returned the smile. ‘Maybe.’

They fell into a resigned silence. Still, like a ceasefire after a war.

‘He’s not a bad bloke either,’ said Sandro, gesturing to the living room. ‘For a copper.’

‘What about your other trouble?’ said Marina. ‘The money you owed?’

A smile crept across Sandro’s features. He kept his eyes averted from his sister. ‘Fine. Everything’s fine there. No worries.’

‘Sandro … ’

‘It’s fine, I said. Fine.’

Marina knew she would get nothing more from him, let it drop. ‘Look after yourself. You know where I am if you need me.’

He knew.

‘And Sandro … thank you. Really. Thank you. I couldn’t have … ’

He hugged her. They didn’t speak.

Both choked.

126

‘You ready to go?’ said Mickey.

Anni picked up her glass. ‘Just finish this.’

‘If we don’t get out now, we’ll be here all night.’ He looked round the room. Officers and ex-officers were settling in for the duration. Lubricated by alcohol and camaraderie, old war stories were being trotted out again, anecdotes given a polish and put on display once more.

She looked up at him. Smiled.

He loved that smile. Hoped he never tired of seeing it. Or that she never tired of directing it at him.

They had spent the last few days dealing with the paperwork fallout from the case. Wrapping it up as tight as they could for the CPS. Michael Sloane was looking at serious prison time. He had his allies, his supporters, all wealthy, putting money before morality. And he could afford the best legal defence, but even with all that, it was looking like he would go down for a long time. There was too much against him. Mickey and Anni doubted he would have as many allies if that happened.

Mickey had heard that Sloane had contemplated entering a plea of insanity. If he did that, he might end up with no prison time but he would probably be looking at life in a secure hospital. And he would probably lose access to his fortune. Either way, he would die behind bars.

His sister was definitely insane. Her fate would be relatively straightforward.

‘And the half-brother gets the lot,’ Anni had said.

‘Could be,’ Mickey had replied. ‘He’d better get himself some good advisers, though. Otherwise he’ll be picked dry.’

The Golem, as they had found out he was called, had been taken to hospital. A combination of severe wounds and a lethal drug cocktail had left him near death. They sincerely hoped he pulled through. There were a lot of murders to pin on him.

‘Who is he?’ asked Anni.

Mickey had shrugged. ‘Just some East European hired muscle. Nobody special.’

And that had been that. Apart from a call Mickey had received from Jessie James.

‘How are you?’ he had asked.

‘Oh, you know,’ she had replied. ‘Arm’s in a cast, itches like hell. But other than that, not too bad.’

‘Snap,’ Mickey had said. ‘That iron bar to the shoulder left me with my arm strapped up.’

‘Twins,’ she said.

‘How’s everything there?’

‘OK.’ Her voice guarded when she said it. ‘Having a bit of time off. Taking long walks along the beach at Aldeburgh. Doing a lot of thinking.’

‘Yeah,’ said Mickey. ‘Near-death experiences do that to people.’

‘You sound like you know what you’re talking about.’

He gave a small laugh. ‘Dangerous profession, this.’

‘Yeah.’ She told him about Helen Hibbert, the other woman in the container. ‘Put in a claim against the police.Suing for negligence, mental anguish and anything else this ambulance chaser she’s employed can think of.’

Mickey laughed. ‘Good luck to her.’ He paused. Felt there was something she wanted to say but wasn’t able to. ‘So you’re OK.’

‘Yeah. I’ve … got a lot of decisions to make. Trying to stay off the booze.’

‘Well I hope you make the right ones.’

‘Me too. I think I know what I don’t want. It’s just finding out what I do want that’s the hard bit.’

Anni put her glass down, bringing Mickey out of his reverie.

‘You ready?’ he said.

‘Yeah.’

‘Let’s go home, then.’

127

Talking. Talking. Always talking. That was what Stuart’s life seemed to have become. People wanting to talk to him. All the time. On and on and on. Never leaving him alone. And he was tired of it.

At least they had all gone, left him alone for now. In his room. In silence. That was something.

He sat back in his easy chair. Tried to relax.

The room was small. He liked that. But comfortable. Relaxing. And that was good too.

He closed his eyes. Tried to think. Put everything together. Make a timeline.

The police had let him go. He hadn’t done anything wrong, they said. But they did think he needed someone to look after him. So he had been placed in a special hostel. Sheltered accommodation, they said it was called. For people with learning difficulties. He hadn’t spoken to the others yet, but they looked friendly enough.

But for now he just wanted to spend some time on his own. In his own head.

They said he was going to be rich. And that was nice. Rich was nice. They sent him a solicitor. He seemed very pleased to see Stuart. Told him Jack Sloane’s final will had been verified and he could see no reason why he shouldn’t get his share of the Sloane money. He was also in line for a lot of compensation. Said that he could be Stuart’s new best friend. But his probation worker had told him to be careful. Not to sign anything without checking with her first. So he would. Definitely.

He opened his eyes, got up. Crossed to the window, looked out. He smiled. Saw the same things he had seen from his prison cell. Birds. Trees. The sky. Other people, but far away. That was good. Reassuring.

And he was sleeping better too. No more nightmares about being trapped inside his body. At least not yet. Some about the last few days. Of being stuck with Amy/Dee again. Of having to hold a gun to Josephina’s head. Horrible things. But nothing too bad. Nothing about his childhood again. Or his body. Just … nothing. And nothing was better than something when the something had been horrible.

He turned from the window, sat back down again.

Josephina. She was a lovely girl. Really lovely. And he was so happy she had gone back home and was with her mother again. He had spoken to her mother, asked her if he could come and see Josephina. Maybe take her out, play with her. Her mother said she didn’t think that was a good idea. She didn’t want anyone or anything that would remind the little girl of what she had been through. Stuart had understood. It had made him sad. But if it helped Josephina, that was OK. That was fine. It was what being an adult was all about.

He closed his eyes once more. He thought there were things he should probably be doing but couldn’t remember any. People looked after him. Helped him. It was strange living here, but he would get used to it.

He smiled.

He didn’t have to do anything. All he had to do was wait.

128

Phil had to sit down. His legs were aching. Marina got him a drink. Non-alcoholic. The party continued all around them. He watched. She studied him.

Already the bruises were beginning to fade. The cuts and abrasions starting to heal. There wasn’t anything on his face that was expected to leave a lasting scar. The stitches along his hairline and over his scalp were still vivid-looking and would be for some time. But his hair was starting to grow back and the stitches would dissolve away eventually. There would be a few lines, a few scars, but his hair would mostly hide those. Most importantly, they didn’t think there would be any long-term damage.

He had been lucky, she thought. Very lucky. She looked over at Eileen. Felt a pang of guilt at how lucky.

Mickey came towards them, Anni not far behind.

‘How you feeling, boss?’ asked Mickey.

Phil managed a smile. ‘Not too bad. I’ll be well again soon. And back at work.’

Mickey smiled. ‘Don’t make it too soon, yeah?’

Phil laughed. It seemed to quickly exhaust him.

Anni appeared alongside Mickey. Stood close to him.

‘We’re off now,’ she said.

‘Going anywhere nice?’ asked Marina.

‘Just … ’ Mickey searched for the right words. ‘Early start tomorrow. Could do without a late one.’

‘Well I’m not in charge at the moment,’ said Phil, ‘so I can’t tell you what to do.’

Anni smiled. ‘Won’t be too long, though. The old team back together again.’ She looked between Phil and Marina.

Phil nodded. ‘Something like that,’ he said.

Mickey tried to shake hands, but the cast on his arm made it difficult. Anni kissed cheeks.

‘It was a great send-off,’ said Anni. ‘Don would’ve been proud.’

Phil nodded, said nothing.

Mickey and Anni moved away. Phil and Marina watched them go.

‘Do you think they’re …?’ Phil frowned.

‘If they’re not, it’s about time they did.’

They both managed a laugh, then fell into silence. Eventually Phil shook his head, sighed. Marina turned to him.

‘You OK?’

He nodded. ‘Yeah. I was just … that speech. About Don. That I made. Was it all right?’

‘It was wonderful. You said everything you should have said. Incredibly moving.’

‘Good.’ But Phil didn’t look convinced. ‘It just felt … like there was more to say.’

‘There’s always more to say.’

‘No, but … you know what it’s been like recently. Everything that’s gone on. Before all this. Family stuff. My … biological parents. All that.’

Marina said nothing. She knew.

‘Well it’s just … I don’t know. It’s like … we’d just bonded. Recently. Properly. Don and me. Fully acknowledged father and son. And now … he’s gone.’

‘At least you had that. Some sons never even get that much.’

He nodded. ‘Suppose you’re right.’

She said nothing.

‘Enjoy every sandwich,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Something Warren Zevon said. Just before he died of cancer. He was asked if he’d learned anything about life. Enjoy every sandwich, he said. Because one day it’ll be your last.’

Marina just stared into her drink. ‘Maybe it’s time we went home too.’

Phil looked round. Don’s old friends were fully engaged in their war stories. Even Eileen was talking to friends. The party had moved on from him and Marina. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Let’s.’

They left the pub and walked down the street arm in arm.