Death's Privilege (17 page)

‘How are the girls, Mark?’ Sarah crossed her cutlery over her plate and sat back.

‘Fine, as far as I know. Why?’

‘They seemed a little off the other night. Well, Ellie at least. I hadn’t seen them for a couple of days and they just, just didn’t seem interested. They used to run to the door when I came home; now it’s tough just to get a conversation out of them. Even Sophie wasn’t herself.’

‘They’re just growing up. Soon they’ll be staying out late, wearing make-up and holding hands with boys. Moodiness is a big part of becoming a woman. Especially a woman in your family.’

‘Very funny.’

‘How is your mother?’ Mark picked up the plates and ran the hot water.

‘Not well. Hard to say if she’ll ever fully recover from the shock of the burglary. I’m planning on visiting her in the next couple of weeks or so.’ Sarah worried about her mother. She didn’t like the idea of her being all alone back in Sunbury, but she was a stubborn woman. The burglary had shocked them both. Sarah had trusted John too soon, and the image of her mother lying on the floor with blood seeping from her head would never let her forget that.

‘We’ll put a day aside, take the girls. They’d enjoy a road trip,’ suggested Mark.

‘And enjoy seeing my mother.’

‘And enjoy seeing your mother.’

‘Just like you do.’

‘Just like I do.’

Sarah picked up the remaining bacon and opened the fridge door. The Post-it note with Mark’s account details, something that she rarely noticed, glared at her.
I needed to be at that meeting; I’ve got sole access to the business account.

‘Listen, don’t worry about the kids. They may feel distant, but they do miss you. They’re just growing up and, as much as we may want to—and believe me when Sophie brings her first boyfriend home I’m going to want to—we can’t stop it.’ He kissed her on the lips and she pulled away. ‘What?’

‘Hang on? Why Sophie? Ellie might be the first to find love. Don’t discount the quiet ones.’
Well covered.

‘Ellie’s probably going to marry a book.’

‘Then there’s even more chance of her living happily ever after.’

He kissed her again and pulled her in tight. It felt comfortable, familiar, and for a moment she found it easier to think she’d misjudged the whole thing. Albeit too much to write off as a coincidence, maybe it was Leilani who had the case to answer, not her lovable, cuddly husband.

‘Just think, in a few years, we won’t have to worry about any of this,’ said Mark.

‘Any of what?’

‘This childcare stuff, balancing our lives around the kids and work commitments. It’ll all be plain sailing once the business takes off.’

‘We’ve talked about this. I’d rather not pay a stranger to look after the girls.’

He gave her a confused look. ‘We won’t have to. With me bringing in the money, you won’t have to work.’

‘I’m still going to work, even when you’re a big shot.’

‘Well, you’re not going to want to do that job when you don’t have to. You’ll be able to spend as much time with the kids as you want, we’d see more of each other, you wouldn’t be stressed out all the time.’ She didn't need this just hours from the exam. She was worried enough as it was, without adding anything layer of anxiety.

‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ She stepped back. ‘What if I did?’

‘We could have the ideal set-up. You’ll be able to put the time into your screen prints, and your Etsy business. That’s the real dream, right? You spent all that effort turning the shed into a studio—wouldn’t it be great to spend more time in there, maybe even teach the girls?’

‘Whose ideal set-up? If anything, when business takes off, you could employ more people and spend more time at home. This isn’t some stopgap. It’s my career. It means something to me.’

‘Does it mean everything? We’ve got a chance to the way most people only dream about. We’re having crazy money invested into the company. Think about your profession. I get that you love it. Helping people must be rewarding; it’s certainly something I don’t get with my job sitting at a computer all day.’ He gently took hold of her arms and looked into her eyes. ‘We know coppers die young. There’s no way round that. Lack of sleep, high-stress situations, poor diet all takes a toll. And that’s just the health side of things. You could be seriously injured or worse on duty. For that first year, I worried every time the doorbell went or the phone rang whilst you were at work. Is this going to be the day my wife is taken away from me? I just want what’s best for us, what’s best for the girls.’

‘What’s best for the girls is to see their mother working a job she loves and a job that puts other people first. That’s what’s best for the girls. I know it’s dangerous, but I’m trained, supported and capable. How long have you thought I’d just throw it all away once your plan took off?’

‘Wait, look. You’re overreacting.’ He raised his hands in an open gesture of submission. ‘Even the smallest risk is too much to think about.’ They were far apart now. Sarah moved towards the door to the kitchen, wanting to be as far away from him as possible but needing him to understand why she couldn’t do what he wanted. He remained still, seemingly bewildered at how his wife didn’t want to live his dream for the family.

‘How long have you thought like this? When we celebrated the day I got the acceptance letter? Did you kiss me thinking “I’ll let her play cop until I can afford to buy it all from her”?’ Maybe she was overreacting. Had he mentioned this any other time, it was possible she’d have laughed it off. Mark’s comment had provided an outlet for the frustration bubbling underneath the surface. The idea didn’t concern her as much as the assumption she’d simply comply.

‘No. Not at all. I’m proud of your achievements. I’m just thinking of you. Since Sunbury, it’s like you’ve got something to prove. Trying to be Supermum, working crazy hours. It’s admirable, but you’re taking on too much. And we both know it won’t end. Passing the fast track will only lead to more work.’

‘Sunbury nearly cost me my career.’

‘It nearly cost you your life.’

Sarah wanted to scream at him, but instead took a deep breath. ‘Not now. Not this morning. We’ll discuss this later.’ She looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. In less than four hours she’d be filling out her collar number and name on top of the exam paper.

Mark raised his hands. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t me—’

‘It’s okay.’

‘Good luck. You’ll do great, I’m sure.’ He replaced the tea towel on the rack, took the Post-it note from the fridge and left the room.

Walking into the exam hall reminded Sarah of her high school tests, being ushered into the school assembly hall and looking for her nametag on one of the old-style single-student desks. She’d always have her bottle of water; four pens, in case two ran out and one dropped beyond the reach of her foot; two pencils, in case the fourth pen leaked; and an eraser. She’d been a well-organised teenager and, as she riffled through her handbag for a black biro, she wondered where those good habits had gone to over the years. In the hours since arguing with Mark, she’d tried to fill her short-term memory with some last-minute facts, but nothing seemed to stick.

She made it with two minutes to spare. Only one seat was left: third column in and halfway towards the back. She walked past nervous smiles and forlorn looks, pen-clickers and table-tappers. Some of them were from the revision classes, but most were unknown and from all over the county. Joel waved discreetly from the back of the room. She sat down and the invigilator, a small, thin bald man standing at the front, announced the exam would start in one minute’s time and they were to write their names and warrant numbers on the front page of the answer booklet.

Her pen was dry. It wouldn’t write. She drew circles on the back of the booklet, but nothing came. She shook it before glancing around, licking her finger and rubbing it on the nib. Not a particularly polite way of dealing with it, but raising her hand to say she’d attended without a working pen was likely to have her name recorded somewhere. Thankfully her saliva appeared to have ink-coaxing properties and she wrote her name at the top of the page just as the invigilator signalled for them to start.

She read the first question and her mind went blank. People around her were already turning to the second page. She started to panic. She slowed everything down and remembered what Manford had said.
One is obviously wrong. Go with the first answer that comes to mind.
She read the first question:

Shenton breaks into a corner shop and takes packets of cigarettes. As he climbs out of the window with the stolen goods, PC Griffin is waiting and tells him he is under arrest. Shenton punches PC Griffin in the face. Shenton’s intention is to cause Griffin only sufficient injury in order that he can escape. However, the punch actually fractures the officer’s skull.

Does Shenton commit an offence of causing GBH with intent contrary to s18 of the Offences Against the Person Act 1861?

A. Yes. Shenton intended to resist arrest and therefore the offence is made out.

B. No. Shenton did not intend to cause grievous bodily harm, therefore he only commits an offence contrary to s20 Offences Against the Person Act 1861.

C. Yes. Shenton intended to injure PC Griffin and fractures his skull, therefore the offence is made out.

D. No. Shenton has no intention to cause serious injury therefore he only commits an offence contrary to s47 Offences Against the Person Act 1861.

Sarah read through the answers again.
A. Probably. No, it is. A. Well, it’s not B. Or D. A. Let’s go with A. First answer’s best and all that.

After the first few questions, her momentum picked up. There were some she was confident about, but guesswork played a heavy role in most of her responses. Her energy flagged and she felt her eyes closing. Dropping off to sleep in the middle of the Detectives Exam would give the fast-track bashing brigade far too much ammunition. She suddenly noticed just how little air there was in the hall and that they must have had the heaters turned right up.

Before she knew it, she’d nodded off and was looking up to see the invigilator standing above her. ‘Keeping you up?’

‘Clearly not.’ It was the post-slumber daze speaking. She hadn’t meant it to come out the way it had. He gave an audible
hmm,
collected her paper and moved on. People around her had noticed.

Once he’d finished collecting the papers, the invigilator told them it was over and everyone stood up to leave.

‘Early morning? Or late night?’ There was that deep, comforting voice. Unmistakable.

‘Don’t ask me how I think I did.’ Sarah turned around and looked up at Joel. He had a way of drawing her in. His dark eyes and wide shoulders gave off a feeling of safety and warmth, two things she needed right now.

‘I’m sure it’s better than you think. It’s always better than you think.’ He put his arms around her. Inappropriate maybe, but she didn’t push away. ‘Some of us are going out this evening, celebrating the end of the exam. Maybe a night off from it all would help?’

Mark had offered to take the kids out for the evening, so she struggled for a reason not to. Getting an early night may have been a smarter move, but that would have to wait. Celebrating anything had been long overdue.

‘I’m not so sure.’

‘Come on, you’ve already used your veto this week. Only one flaking allowed.’

‘Okay. But just for one.’

‘A few from the revision class are coming. Don’t worry, I’ve not invited any of the weird ones.’

Sarah smiled. ‘Well, you have now.’

Seventeen

It was soon nine o’clock. The one drink had turned into four large reds in two different venues. What started in a quiet pub in Rhystown had moved further along the high street to Harper’s, an upper middle-class wine bar with a rather obtrusive modern playlist.

‘It’s a bit loud in here.’ Sarah hooked her bag over her chair and sat down at the circular table. Only four of them were left. Joel was at the bar, Alison and Emma, two other exam candidates, sat on either side of Sarah.

‘He’s lovely.’ Alison, a brunette in her early twenties, gave out a faux shudder. ‘Is he single?’

‘Joel? I’m not sure. It’s never really come up.’ Sarah hadn’t ever asked, but had assumed from overheard conversations between him and Hayward that he spent a lot of time in bars like this one with various women. She looked over and, as if on cue, he was whispering something in the bar girl’s ear. Whatever he said caused a big grin to spread across her face.

‘It’d be the first thing I’d ask if I worked with him.’

‘Not the sort of thing I need to worry about.’ Sarah tapped her wedding ring, hoping she was right. ‘I can’t imagine my husband would appreciate the question.’

‘Neither would my boyfriend.’ Alison laughed. Sarah and Emma smiled awkwardly. Joel came over holding a tray of drinks: a glass of red, two fruity cocktails and a glass of Coke, no doubt containing a spirit of some sort.

‘So, what’s CID like?’ asked Emma.

‘Hard work and long hours.’ Sarah sipped her wine.

‘And none of the glamour,’ said Joel.

‘I’m sure you still manage to have some fun.’ Alison grinned at him, eyes glazed like a hungry puppy’s. Joel was easy on the eyes, but there was no need to salivate.

‘That’s not the reason I took the exam. I want to develop my career, do more interesting work, that kind of thing,’ said Emma.

‘That’s the best bit for me. Sinking my teeth into more serious jobs.’ Sarah kept an eye on Joel and Alison. He’d edged his chair closer to her and they were now side by side. Sarah tried to listen to what they were saying, whilst nodding politely at Emma’s monotone voice and dry topics.
Why do people want to talk about work all the time?

‘Yeah, that’s what I mean. Just do something that matters,’ said Emma.

Bet you said that during your first interview and you’ll say it again when you transfer out.
Making a difference to anything took time and dedication. Changing jobs or moving departments wouldn't do it. People made a difference in their everyday behaviours and common courtesies. Sarah knew what Emma was getting at; she wanted to save someone. She wanted to be the person who comforted the weary crime victim or locked up the predatory villain. Sarah understood that. It was one of the reasons she’d joined the job. Making a difference took a particular personality and, as her mother was fond of saying, like charity, started at home. Home was somewhere she should have been a long time ago and where she’d be going as soon as she’d had enough of watching Joel and Alison whispering to each other.