‘OK, here goes... it’s about Jane Tennison and the stuff in her report about Renee and the fivers she forgot to tell you about. She’s been working long hours, feeling tired and it was a genuine mistake.’
‘We’re all tired, Kath.’ He was starting to sound irritable.
‘Yes I know, but she’s really keen and hates to let anyone down. It’s not bollockings she needs but encouragement. She’s young, eager to learn, and yes, sometimes a bit overenthusiastic...’
‘Thank you, Kath, point taken. Now if you don’t mind, I’m knackered.’
‘I’m sorry, but I’ve known you for a long time and I know you can be a charmer when you want to be. It’s pretty obvious she’s got the hots for you.’ Kath paused.
Bradfield shrugged and avoided making eye contact with her.
‘You can tell from the way she looks at you. You’ve always been a heart-breaker and I doubt she’s ever met anyone like you. So please just behave, because I like her.’
He gave her his lopsided smile and stuck another cigarette in his mouth.
‘You also smoke too much.’
‘Mind your business, Kath, and don’t push your luck, not if you want to be present when we make the arrests. Now get out, go and get some kip.’
Kath said goodnight and made a zipping motion across her mouth before leaving the room.
Bradfield sighed. He did smoke too much and knew he’d already crossed the line with Jane, but he’d been unable to stop himself. He decided once the arrests had been made he’d send Jane back to uniform shifts and make it clear there would be no Sunday lunches at her mother’s.
Jane arrived at the station just before 6 a.m. and went to the ladies’ locker room to get changed. She’d found it hard to sleep during the night: every time she closed her eyes she couldn’t help picturing Bradfield’s handsome face with his unruly curly hair and brilliant blue eyes. She kept wondering what would have happened in his office if they hadn’t been interrupted by the call from Gibbs on the radio.
Putting on her jacket she looked at herself in the mirror. The murder inquiry had been fascinating, and often emotionally draining, but the adrenalin rush she felt being privy to Operation Hawk was even stronger. Before working with Bradfield, Jane hadn’t considered becoming a detective but for her Bradfield epitomized what being a good detective was all about: compassion where needed and the ability to instantly change approach where necessary; always keeping in mind the forensics and fine details of an investigation, no matter what it might be. Being a detective and dealing with serious crime was more stressful than uniform work but Jane thought it beat working with Harris on the front desk any day.
Jane looked in the mirror and adjusted her bow tie. She touched her face recalling the way Bradfield had pulled her close and touched her cheek as he was about to kiss her. She was suddenly awoken from her thoughts by the sound of Kath’s voice.
‘That’s the last time I sleep with Spencer Gibbs — I hardly got any kip at all.’
‘You slept with DS Gibbs?’ Jane asked, looking rather stunned.
‘He didn’t even have the decency to let me use the bed... I had to kip on a mattress with a blanket on the floor. At first he started singing rock songs and keeping a drum beat on his thighs, then when he did fall asleep like a log he snored like a foghorn!’
‘Was it your place or his?’ Jane asked, somewhat confused.
‘We shared an empty cell to grab a few hours’ kip before going back on duty,’ Kath explained as she started to undress to have a shower.
‘I’m so excited about Operation Hawk I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to come in early. Is Bradfield back?’
Kath hesitated and nodded her head. ‘Yeah, he’s crashed out in his office, you know how obsessive he is.’
‘I’ll see if he wants a coffee and some breakfast,’ Jane said with a smile.
Kath saw through Jane’s smile but felt apprehensive. ‘Don’t go disturbing him — he was so tired and moody earlier he’ll bite your head off.’
‘Oh right, I won’t,’ Jane said, looking rather dejected.
Kath knew she’d promised Bradfield to keep her mouth zipped, but out of concern she felt she had to say something. ‘Listen, Jane, don’t think I’m poking my nose in, but is there anything going on between you two?’
Jane flushed, leaned closer and whispered, ‘Please don’t tell anyone, but we spent the night together.’
Although she didn’t show it Kath was stunned and needed time to think about what she should say to Jane. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t. Right now I need a shower to freshen up so I’ll see you later, darlin’,’ she said as she wrapped a towel round her and walked across the room to the showers, muttering to herself, ‘Shit, shit, shit.’ She stopped as she heard Jane singing.
‘Have another little piece of my heart now, baby... You know you got it, if it makes you feel good.’
Chapter twenty-nine
Renee had pretended to be asleep when she’d heard Clifford enter the bedroom. He got into bed beside her and was snoring loudly as soon as his head hit the pillow. She had heard the bath water running and then the banging of John’s bedroom door closing. She turned over onto her side and clasped her hands beneath her chin. Hanging on the wardrobe door was her best dress, and on the dressing table was the hat that she had only ever worn once.
It was a Sunday morning and she’d usually have a lie-in, but she just couldn’t get back to sleep so she decided to make herself a cup of tea. Slowly easing herself out of bed so as not to wake Clifford, she put on her old dressing gown, picked up her slippers and crept out, closing the door silently behind her.
She put the kettle on the stove and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. There was no margarine left so she took out a bowl of dripping from the fridge and spread it onto her toast. She sat down and started to write out a shopping list, licking the lead of the pencil as she decided what she needed. She’d still got some leftover stew so they could have that for their dinner, but she was out of potatoes. The kettle boiled and she looked at the filthy clothes left by the washing machine. John’s jeans and T-shirts were covered in grey powdery dust and his boots were caked in soil beside them. She put the clothes in a plastic bag, picked up the boots and placed them back down on an old newspaper. She decided to take them to the launderette later, but it would have to wait until after the funeral of Nancy Phillips’ grandson. She went into the bathroom to wash her hair.
Half an hour later Renee went into the kitchen where a bleary-eyed John was sitting in his dressing gown reading an old paper. He was exhausted, and every muscle in his body ached from being cooped up in the cramped tunnel lifting the Kango drill. He’d poured himself a mug of tea from the teapot, but it was tepid and he piled in the sugar stirring it hard. He looked up and saw his mum with her hair still wrapped in a towel. She hardly spoke to John as she fried bacon and eggs, made a fresh pot of tea and set the table around him as he slurped the dregs from his mug.
‘How’s David?’ he asked.
‘Not well. He’s still got bronchitis and by the looks of it a high temperature. I’m worried stiff about him and in two minds to call the doc again. ’
‘Just keep givin’ him the medicine,’ John grunted, and poured a fresh mug of tea. She finished the fry-up and put two platefuls of food with thick wedges of fried bread on the kitchen table along with a bottle of HP sauce.
Clifford walked in and sat opposite his son. Picking up the HP sauce he slapped the bottom twice and a large splodge fell onto his plate. He ate with his mouth open, making a terrible chewing sound. Some egg yolk dribbled down the side of his mouth which he wiped away with the back of his hand.