She put her case on the unmade bed and opened it. Not knowing how much storage space there would be she had not packed too many clothes. She looked in the far section of the wardrobe for some hangers. Inside there was a chest of drawers, the top of which she noticed had a pull-out section that could be used as a desk. Nifty, she thought to herself.
As she unpacked Jane realized she would have to get used to doing her own washing and ironing. She put her clothes in the wardrobe and placed her alarm clock on the bedside table, then put the empty case under the bed. She opened the window at the end of the room to let some fresh air in. Her room overlooked the rear courtyard of the building, which she was glad of as the rooms at the front of the building overlooked Mare Street, which was a main through-road and always noisy and busy. She was about to unfold the bottom sheet and start to make the bed when there was a knock at the door. She opened it and saw a balding, dark-haired and rather portly man in his early forties dressed in a white T-shirt, tracksuit bottoms and slippers.
‘Tennison?’ he asked bluntly without a smile and said he was Sergeant Turner.
She put out her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Likewise. Follow me, please,’ he said with a limp handshake and gruff manner.
As they walked along the landing the first thing he told her was that men were not allowed on the women’s floor and vice versa, unless there was a valid reason, and anyone wantonly caught breaking the rule would be asked to leave.
He pointed out where the ladies’ toilets and bathroom were and opening a door opposite he showed her the small ironing room with two irons and boards.
‘Is there a launderette nearby?’
‘One downstairs in the basement next to the gym. Two front-load washers and a drying room with clothes racks next to it. We’re hoping to get some tumbler-driers in the near future. There’s a dry-cleaner’s round the corner for your uniform. He accepts police chits and you can get them at work or from me. Canteen opening hours are marked up on the main noticeboard outside my office.’
Jane couldn’t get over his abrupt, monotonous way of speaking: there was a total lack of emphasis to his words.
‘My room is very comfortable and nicely decorated,’ she said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
‘Adequate, yes, nicely decorated, no. You can put posters up using that new Bostick stuff, no nails, and no pins.’
‘Blu-tack?’ Jane enquired.
‘If it’s blue and sticky then that’s it.’
The tour of the section house was pretty straightforward, and Sergeant Turner said little else other than to point out the TV rooms and canteen. Feeling rather pessimistic, Jane returned to her room. She finished making her bed and neatly arranged all her toiletries before going to the canteen for lunch. It was very different from the police station’s and actually looked like a proper restaurant. She was very impressed but couldn’t help noticing that there were just six people dining and only two of them were sitting together and obviously about to go on late shift as they were in half-blues. She didn’t recognize anyone from Hackney Police Station, but wasn’t surprised as some of the hundred and twenty residents worked at other stations in East London.
She felt very shy sitting alone and no one appeared in any way interested in making her acquaintance. Jane perused the menu, which had a choice of starters, mains and desserts, all of which were appealing. Ten minutes had passed when she saw a large black lady dressed in a Met Police catering outfit come out of the kitchen swing door. Jane raised her hand and the woman, who looked to be West Indian and in her fifties, walked over with a big smile.
‘Yes, dear, what can I do fer yer?’ she asked in a friendly way.
‘Could I order the shepherd’s pie with mixed veg, please?’
The woman started to laugh loudly. The sound was so infectious and happy Jane felt herself grinning and wanting to laugh herself.
‘I can tell you is new here, ain’t ya, sweetheart?’ the woman said. She picked up a pencil and small order pad on the side of the table that Jane hadn’t noticed. Still smiling she explained you had to write down what you wanted, along with your shoulder number or name, and hand it in at the serving hatch next to the kitchen door. When it was ready they’d shout out.
‘Tell yer what, dear, seein’ as it’s yer first day, I’ll take yer order, but yer can fetch it yerself when it’s ready.’
After a delicious lunch, much better than the food at the station, Jane felt a bit more settled and cheerful. She returned to her room, where she stuck up her Janis Joplin poster and cleaned her teeth. She got out her police instruction manual to do some studying for her next continuation training exam and lay on her bed resting her head on her arm. She turned to the chapter on the Vagrancy Act of 1824 about ‘street beggars’, which she had to learn ‘parrot fashion’.
It felt strange because other than Hendon she had never lived anywhere else but with her parents. Her old alarm clock’s loud tick had never really bothered her until now, so she shoved it inside the bedside-cabinet drawer and turned on her little Zephyr radio. It wasn’t long before she fell asleep.
She woke with a start to the sound of doors banging and loud voices coming from the corridor. She sat bolt upright and looking at her watch was surprised that she had slept for nearly four hours as it was 6 p.m.
Wondering what was happening she peeked out of her door and saw two women chatting. They had large rollers in their hair and were wearing dressing gowns and holding drawstring plastic cosmetic bags. She decided she’d have a relaxing hot bath, get changed and then go and see what was on TV.
The bathroom had four toilets, two bath cubicles and two showers with white plastic curtains. As Jane entered a very tall woman in a shower hat, a towel wrapped round her, emerged from a bath cubicle.
‘Hi, if you’re wanting a bath the water’s not that hot at the moment, so I’d give it another half-hour or so to warm up. Or you could have a quick shower.’
‘Thanks, but I’ll wait and have a hot bath later.’ Jane smiled.
‘I’m Sarah Redhead and fairly new here myself — been here five months. I worked in Luton for four years before I transferred to the Met. I’m based at Leytonstone, what about you?’ She had rather a cut-glass, high-pitched voice and a forceful personality.
Jane introduced herself and said she worked up the road at Hackney Station.
‘My God, you’ll be in the thick of it. I’ve heard this is a rough area with some pretty ghastly, nasty villains,’ Sarah remarked loudly.
‘I’m still a probationer so I haven’t really come across them yet.’
Sarah started to walk off then stopped and turned back. ‘There’s a pub over the road we all use called the Warburton Arms. There’s a few of us meeting up there at half eight and you’re welcome to join us.’
‘That would be nice — thanks,’ Jane said, but she wasn’t sure if she’d actually go.
‘Good, I’ll meet you downstairs by the warden’s desk at half eight. Okey-dokey?’
By the time Jane returned both baths were being used and she had to wait for over fifteen minutes before a girl wearing looped earrings came out. Jane recognized her from the Harker lecture, but the girl hurried past whilst draping her bath towel around her.
‘Hi, I was at the Dr Harker lecture. You were there, weren’t you?’ Jane said.
The girl stopped and looked at Jane. ‘Oh, yes, sorry, yeah. I had a terrible hangover that day... It went on for ever, didn’t it?’
Jane gave a smile, not wanting to say that she had enjoyed it, but the door banged shut before she could say anything else.