Good Friday

Prologue

In March 1976, Jane Tennison successfully completed her ten-week CID course at Hendon and returned to Bow Street, whilst awaiting a transfer to another station as a fully fledged detective constable. DI Gibbs had moved on, but she was still under the strict, watchful eye of DCI Shepherd, nicknamed ‘Timex’ due to his almost obsessive timekeeping schedules.

It wasn’t long before Jane’s posting as a DC came through and to her dismay she was offered a place at Hackney. She requested a private discussion with Shepherd to ask if she could remain at Bow Street. Although she knew that he could be tricky and controlling, she nevertheless admired his tenacity.

Shepherd knew, intuitively, the reason behind Jane’s appeal. Several officers who had been stationed at Hackney at the time of the abortive bank raid, which had tragically killed DCI Leonard Bradfield and WPC Kath Morgan, had been transferred. Jane gave no reason for her request, but encouraged by her previous performance at Bow Street, DCI Shepherd agreed that she could return there.

Jane was in a catch-22 situation. Although Shepherd had agreed for her to remain with the CID at Bow Street, he gave her very little opportunity to prove herself and she was becoming increasingly frustrated. She was due to attend a court appearance for a drunk driver. Usually this kind of case would have been handled by a uniformed officer, but Jane had been driving an unmarked CID car when the drunk driver had driven straight into the back of it. He had been belligerent and quite abusive.

On arriving at the court she was annoyed to find that there was a backlog of cases being heard, so she went to get herself a coffee. As she headed back to the waiting room she was almost sent flying by a DC bounding through the door.

‘God, I’m sorry,’ said DC Brian Edwards, then, recognising her, gave a wide smile.

‘Jane! It’s good to see you!’

‘Hello, Brian. You got a case here this morning as well?’

‘Yeah, Flying Squad job. Committal hearing on a three-hander for armed robbery.’

‘You’re on the Flying Squad?’ Jane tried to hide her surprise. Edwards was young, and almost as inexperienced as she was.

‘Yeah, it’s completely changed my life. The blokes on the squad are a great bunch of guys. We work all over London investigating armed robberies. The adrenaline buzz when you nick an armed blagger on the pavement is incredible.’

‘Congratulations! I must say, you look good.’

Edwards had always been rather untidy and scruffy looking, with his thick curly hair worn long, and his shirt always hanging out of his trousers. Now he was wearing a trendy leather jacket, a white T-shirt, and dark trousers with side-zipper boots.

‘Are there any women on the Flying Squad?’ Jane asked.

‘No way. I doubt they’d ever bring in a woman. It’s tough work, Jane, and we get results.’ Before she could respond to his arrogance and chauvinism, Edwards glanced at his watch, ‘So, what’re you here for?’

‘Just a traffic offence. A drunk bloke rammed into me whilst I was driving the CID car.’

Edwards laughed. He turned to look over at two men dressed in similar clothing to him, as one gestured for him to join them.

‘See y’around,’ Edwards said, as he sauntered over to them.

By the time Jane got to the CID office three hours later she was in a foul mood. Edith, the CID’s clerical officer, who had worked alongside Jane since she started at Bow Street, smiled warmly when she saw her.

‘Everything go all right in court?’

‘Yes. Guilty, banned for two years and a hefty fine. When you think how much paperwork I had to do to get him into court… He wore a smart suit and tie and said it was out of character, blah, blah… Considering the lip he gave me, he got off lightly.’

‘Well, you’ve got a load of shoplifting crime sheets on your desk from DCI Shepherd. There’s been a slew of clothes nicked from Oxford Street stores today.’

‘Shoplifters? That’s a uniform crime investigation, not CID!’

‘Not when they all happened within an hour of each other. Shepherd reckons it’s an organised gang who sell the stolen goods on market stalls.’

‘Well, that sounds a lot more interesting than the stuff I usually investigate.’

Edith sipped her tea. ‘He wants you to get statements from all the shops, and an inventory of exactly what was stolen, along with the value.’

‘Oh my God,’ Jane muttered.

‘Don’t shoot the messenger,’ Edith retorted, resuming her typing.

Jane began to sift through the crime sheets and statements on her own desk. ‘I met DC Brian Edwards at court. Remember him from the Susie Luna murder?’ Edith looked blank. ‘The rapist, Peter Allard? He got a life sentence, and—’

‘Oh yes, I remember. Long time ago, now… Over a year…’

‘Edwards is on the Flying Squad now.’

‘Really?’

‘He said they never take women on the Squad.’

‘Well, I doubt any decent woman would want to be on it.’ Edith’s tone sharpened. ‘They’re a bunch of chauvinistic bastards! Ever since that TV series came out, The Professionals, they act like they’re film stars, the lot of them, think they’re God’s gift… There’ve been a lot of unpleasant rumours about corruption, too, but far be it from me to name names…’

Jane processed the Oxford Street reports for the rest of the day, drawing up charts of the shops, times of the thefts and a description of the suspects. She then filed everything methodically, just as DCI Shepherd liked, but she was finished by three thirty. She sat drumming her fingers on her empty desk and at four o’clock decided she would approach DCI Shepherd. It was ridiculous that she was sitting around when she was now qualified to investigate more serious cases.

She knocked on his office door and waited.

‘Come in.’

Jane walked in and stood by his desk. Shepherd gave her a cursory glance.

‘What is it, Tennison?’ Shepherd’s pale blue eyes and boyish looks belied not only his age but also his professionalism.

‘May I speak freely, sir?’

‘Yes, of course. Sit down.’

She drew a chair up in front of his desk.

‘I don’t feel that my time here is being utilised properly. I’ve gained a lot of experience since I’ve been here, and I know that you are aware of my participation in previous cases — like the apparently non-suspicious death that resulted in two murder convictions.’

Shepherd didn’t answer right away. He paused for a moment, then picked up his fountain pen, unscrewed the top, examined the nib, then slowly screwed it back together. ‘Yes, of course, I am aware of the case you are referring to… Katrina Harcourt and… er, Barry Dawson… correct?’

‘Yes, sir. I was also part of the investigation of the rapist Peter Allard when the body of Susie Luna was discovered, and—’

‘Yes, Tennison, I’m more than aware of those investigations, and the part you played in them. But I don’t see why you’re bringing them up now, all these months later?’

‘Sir, I’m grateful that you agreed for me to return to Bow Street but now that I’ve passed my CID course and been made detective I’m concerned that my training is not being used to its full potential.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, sir. I was wondering if there was any possibility that I could apply for a transfer to the Flying Squad?’

Shepherd laughed. ‘Tennison, with your length of service and experience there is absolutely no possibility of your being transferred to the Flying Squad. You are welcome to apply but I doubt the application would be taken seriously. But let me think about what you’ve said and we can talk in due course about some possible alternatives.’

Edith was getting ready to leave when Jane walked in to the CID office and sat down at her desk, in a glum mood.

‘I’m off home now,’ Edith said.

‘Edith, do you think DCI Shepherd’s got it in for me? He keeps his distance from me, and I get all the dross. I’m investigating dead-end crimes that none of the other detectives are allocated. I know that he was very complimentary to me, and agreed for me to return to Bow Street…’

‘As I keep on telling you, Jane, the Met really don’t like giving women the kudos they deserve. They’re old-school, and Shepherd is as well… although he maintains that he’s a forward thinker, in my opinion he plays by the rules — and those rules don’t include female detectives.’

On returning to the section house Jane sat on her bed, feeling thoroughly depressed. She had been thinking of moving out and renting a flat of her own now she was earning a sufficient salary. She had saved a considerable amount living at the section house. The time was right for her to be independent.

Later that evening she called her parents and told her father that she was contemplating moving. Mr Tennison encouraged her to think about buying rather than renting. He even offered to help by paying the deposit, saying that in the long run it would be much better for her to own a flat and pay a mortgage, as it would be an investment.

Jane’s morale was boosted. If she couldn’t improve her working schedules at Bow Street, she could at least change her personal lifestyle, and be more independent.

DCI Shepherd didn’t approach Jane after their meeting, so she carried on working on the low-level investigations she had been assigned to. She was disappointed, but at least she now had another focus, spending her days off looking at possible flats. She was unsure how she was going to manage financially, as she had only just bought a second-hand VW Golf. However, Jane’s father actively encouraged her and produced a list of areas that he felt would be suitable.

‘I don’t want to jump the gun, Daddy. This is really going to stretch my wages… so far I haven’t seen anywhere suitable.’

‘It takes time, dear, and you won’t be jumping the gun. I’ll look into everything with you. If we find a place that needs fixing up you can call on your brother-in-law, Tony, to help with the carpentry, and I can do the decorating.’

Mrs Tennison was not quite as enthusiastic and was anxious about Jane moving into a flat on her own and taking on such responsibility. She had even suggested that Jane might want to go back and live at home with them again. She constantly worried about Jane and felt that, if she wasn’t living at home, it was safer for her to be in secure accommodation like the section house, along with other police officers.

‘It sometimes feels like I imagine a school dormitory would be, Mum, with no privacy… and I hate the communal bathrooms. I really want to find my own place.’

‘Well, in my opinion, if you get your own place there’ll be no incentive for you to meet someone, get married and set up a home together. Just like Pam and Tony did.’

After years of being compared to her sister, Jane had learnt not to argue with her mother, or to listen to her opinions. Mrs Tennison was still unable to cope with Jane’s career choice, and would far rather that she had been more like Pam and had chosen a safe ‘homely’ job. She had always been prone to anxiety, and if she had known of the horrors that Jane had been subjected to during her training and at her various attachments since then, she would be even more neurotic.

On her days off, Jane and her father scoured the estate agents’ windows, viewed endless properties and made arrangements for a mortgage. She had a file of estate agents’ particulars and spent her breaks in the canteen having coffee and sifting through them all. Edith was very supportive of Jane buying her own flat, although she was quick to dismiss one property after another as being too far out of the West End, or in an unsatisfactory area. Edith owned her own small terraced house in Hackney but constantly complained that the neighbourhood was going downhill and that it was not a good investment for her future. Her elderly mother suffered from dementia and she was dependent on social welfare carers to be able to look after her. Jane had once asked Edith if she had considered placing her mother into a care home.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it! She might be the bane of my life but she’s my mother… even though she often doesn’t know who I am, and she’s a constant worry, but when she is lucid it makes it worthwhile. I’m sure if you were ever in the same situation, Jane, you would do the same.’

Jane nodded in agreement, although the thought of losing one or other of her parents and having to care for them by herself was too much to even contemplate.

As she was pondering, DCI Shepherd summoned her into his office.

‘Detective Tennison, I have been giving your request for a transfer some serious thought. You are, as I have said to you before, far too inexperienced a detective to join an elite squad like “The Sweeney”. But they have a sub-division known as the “Dip Squad”… if you do well there it could be a stepping stone towards the Flying Squad. They’re quite keen for a female to join them, and I can get you up on an attachment, if their DCI agrees.’

‘What exactly is the Dip Squad, sir?’

‘Well, they deal with professional pickpockets… there’s shed-loads of them descending in force from overseas, most notably Italy, Chile and Colombia. The Dip Squad are working right now with teams along Oxford Street, Regent Street and Piccadilly, as well as teams covering underground stations at Victoria, Embankment and Oxford Circus. So, how does that sound to you?’

Jane wasn’t at all sure, but at the same time if this might be a possible route to the more glamorous Flying Squad then she knew she should accept.

‘Thank you very much, sir.’

Shepherd stood up, dismissing her. ‘Good. I’ll let you know as soon as I get confirmation.’

Jane was beaming when she went back into the CID room and Edith swivelled around to look at her.

‘I may be transferred to the Dip Squad.’

Edith shrugged and turned back to face her typewriter. ‘Rather you than me, dear… it’s a dreadful, dirty little office and they don’t even have any clerical staff. Oh, by the way, I meant to show you this.’

Edith handed her an advert from The Job, the Met’s official newspaper.

‘I think it sounds really interesting… an ex-clerical worker based in Scotland Yard is offering her flat for sale. Good location, just off Baker Street, a minute from the Underground. It’s got two bedrooms, and I think it’s a very reasonable price.’

Jane jotted down the information. As she was off duty that afternoon she arranged to go and see the flat in Melcombe Street. She walked the short distance from Baker Street underground station and liked the location as it was so close to Regent’s Park. Melcombe Street was a small turning, with a row of shops on one side and narrow three-storey houses opposite. There was no front garden as they were built back from the pavement, but the houses were whitewashed and looked well kept. The door to number 33 was freshly painted with a row of brass bells on one side. She rang the bell for the top flat and waited.

After a short while a very pregnant woman opened the door and introduced herself as Mrs Taylor. Jane could immediately see why she wanted to sell the flat. She followed the woman up three flights of narrow stairs, and reaching the top floor, Mrs Taylor had to stand and gasp for breath.

‘Are you all right?’ Jane asked, concerned.

‘Yes, I just get so breathless. I used to run up these stairs before I was pregnant… they never bothered me. But I’ve only a month to go and it feels like I’m carrying a sack of coal in front of me!’

Jane followed her into the hallway of the flat. It was mostly all white walls, newly painted. She showed Jane a small, well-equipped kitchen incorporating a dining area with high stools. Straight opposite was a bathroom with new bath, washbasin and toilet. It had fresh, flowered tiles, and a heated towel rail.

‘My husband has just finished doing this place up. We’ve moved to our new house in Barnes so we’re ready to sell and can exchange right away.’

Jane loved the flat. Although it was small, it was so clean and bright and the two bedrooms, one much larger than the other, were freshly painted and decorated with Laura Ashley wallpaper.

‘That’s it!’ Mrs Taylor said, as Jane looked around the larger bedroom, which had fitted wardrobes.

Jane had hoped for a larger flat, with a communal sitting room. But this flat wouldn’t need anything done to it, and she could rent out the smaller bedroom straightaway.

Jane enquired whether any of the furniture was included.

‘Yes, everything! I mean, I’ll be taking the bed linen, cutlery and china, but I’m leaving all the furniture as is. And it comes with a new washing machine, fitted fridge and cooker.’

Jane rang her father as soon as she returned to the section house and told him that she thought she had found the flat she wanted to buy.

Whilst she was at work the following day her father went to view it, and during her lunch break she called him to see what he thought.

‘Well, you can’t swing a cat in it… I mean, there’s no dining room or sitting room, and it’s quite a walk up. Your mother had to have a breather halfway.’

Jane hadn’t realised her mother was also going to look at the flat. She doubted that Mrs Tennison would approve and was starting to feel disappointed, as her father continued discussing the finances.

‘You know it’s only a twenty-two year lease?’

‘Yes, Daddy, but I think the price is fair, and it includes all the furniture…’

‘There’s no garden. It’s a top floor and there isn’t even a small balcony.’

‘Yes, I know that… but it’s close to Regent’s Park.’

‘And it’s a bit too bloody close to that siege that went on in Balcombe Street, which is just up the road you know, Jane?’

‘Yes, I do know that, Daddy, but the IRA are hardly likely to target the same area twice and the IRA gang were arrested and are awaiting trial…’

‘Your mother wants to talk to you…’

Jane sighed, certain she would get a negative response.

‘I like it, dear,’ her mother said. ‘It’s so clean, and has lovely big windows so it’s very light and airy. But don’t you think it’s going to be too small? I mean, you said you were going to need two bedrooms. You could make that the big one into a sitting room, because otherwise you have nowhere to sit and watch the TV so, taking that into consideration, I think it will be too expensive to just be there on your own…’

Jane was forced to listen to her parents’ pros and cons regarding the flat, as they handed over the phone from one to another. Eventually Jane had had enough.

‘I like it and I prefer it to any other flat I’ve seen. I know it may be small, but it’s ideal for me. I don’t need much space.’

‘Where will you park your car?’ Mr Tennison asked.

‘There’s residents’ parking outside the house, and when I don’t need the car I can park it in the small lane behind your flat.’

‘Well, that’s fine by me. It’s in a good position for the underground station and then Marylebone Station is just up the road. But I doubt you’ll be able to rent out that small bedroom.’

Jane was becoming increasingly argumentative and now insisted that she wanted to go ahead.

‘Well, it’s £24,000, and with that short lease I’m not sure it’s a good prospect. But I’ll talk to the mortgage broker in the morning. We’ve made a file of your income and future earnings, and if I put down £10,000, let’s see what they think about it.’

‘That’s very generous of you, Daddy.’

‘Well, you’ll eventually have to pay me back, but if you really want this flat then in the end it’s your choice.’

As she put the phone down Jane felt relieved and grateful to her father.

‘Everything all right, luv?’ Edith asked.

‘My father’s OK about me buying the flat. I can’t wait to move in and have my own independence… no more section house rules and regulations…’

‘Well, don’t get too excited yet, Jane, everything has to be signed on the dotted line before the purchase goes through.’

‘I know, I know…’

‘And then there’s the police regulations to follow: your move must be approved by a Chief Super, neighbours have to be checked out for criminal records…’

‘Yes, I know, Edith.’ Jane sighed, wishing she hadn’t said anything in the first place.

‘And you need permission if you want to get married.’

‘I’ve no intention of getting married yet, Edith, but I might take in a lodger.’

‘Well, you’ll need permission for that as well.’

‘God, this job wants to know the ins and outs of everything, even my personal life.’

Edith put her straight, tapping the side of her nose. ‘Listen, dear… it feels like they want to know the colour of your knickers, but just make sure it’s all reported in line with police regulations.’

As she was about to leave the station, DCI Shepherd called Jane into his office again. He was quite abrupt, saying that he had been in talks with the team and the DCI heading up the Dip Squad at Vine Street Police Station, and she could start there immediately, from the beginning of the following week.

‘You’ll work with a splendid officer, DCI Church. There’s about ten or twelve officers on his team and you’ll work shifts, 9 to 5, mostly, or 2 to 10. I’ve arranged a six-month attachment and at the end of it the DCI will make the decision regarding whether you will continue with them or not.’

He stood up. ‘Good luck, Tennison. I hope you’ll find this attachment more to your liking. I’ve arranged for your replacement, a male officer, to start next Monday. You can spend the rest of this week completing any outstanding reports and paperwork.’

‘I really appreciate this, sir. If my replacement needs me to go over anything whilst I’m still here then I will be only too pleased to do whatever is necessary.’

He shook her hand. ‘I am sure he will be quite capable, Tennison.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Instead of feeling excited by the prospect of joining the new team, she felt a little nervous and wondered if perhaps she had been overenthusiastic. DCI Shepherd’s attitude had not been very positive, in fact the reverse. She had also noted that he had made it clear her replacement would be a male officer. But it was too late to change her mind now, so she concentrated her thoughts on arranging the final details of her mortgage with the bank and making the purchase of the flat.

Jane’s last day finally arrived and Edith bought her a housewarming-leaving present, of a tablecloth and matching napkins. It was thoughtful of her but Jane doubted she would ever use them, as the folding table in the kitchen had a Formica top.

‘I’m going to miss you, Jane.’ Edith said.

‘I’ll miss you too, Edith. You’ve always been such a good friend to me, and I hope we’ll stay in touch.’

‘I’m sure we will. Please keep me updated on how it’s all going with the Dip Squad. When do you start?

‘Next week. And tomorrow I’m picking up the keys to my new flat so it’s going to be a busy weekend.’

Edith watched as Jane filled up a cardboard box with her personal items. She suspected that Jane would be in touch sooner than she expected, because from what she had heard about the unit, Jane was in for a big change. The Dip Squad sounded like a bunch of hooligans.

The next morning, Jane unlocked the door of number 33 and walked into the flat she now owned. Her parents were helping her move and she could hear them panting their way up the stairs with suitcases of clothes and the few boxes of personal items that she’d accumulated during her time at the section house. Jane walked into the small kitchen. The previous owner had put fresh flowers in a jam jar on the kitchen table, and had left milk, sugar and a loaf of bread on the side. She’d also left Jane a note wishing her good luck and hoping that she would like living in the flat as much as she had.

Eventually her parents left and Jane was alone for the first time in her new home. She carried her suitcase into the bedroom and sat down on the bare mattress on the bed. She hugged herself, feeling sure she had made the right decision.