Tennison (58 page)

No one but Kath noticed a forlorn-looking Jane picking up her handbag and leaving the incident room. Her heart went out to her and she followed Jane down to the ladies’ locker room.

‘Are you all right, Jane love?’

‘I’m fine, thank you . . . I’ve been told I’m off the investigation and to take some time out.’

Kath couldn’t help herself as she put her arms around Jane and hugged her. She suspected this was Bradfield’s way of stopping Jane getting too infatuated with him.

‘He’s only looking out for you as a probationer, Jane. The long hours are taking their toll on the experienced guys, so God knows what effect they must be having on you.’

Jane nodded, but was close to tears. She just couldn’t understand how he could have been so dismissive about their night together. She couldn’t look Kath in the eye for fear she could tell that it was not about being sent home but how hurt and humiliated she felt by Bradfield’s rejection. Kath lifted Jane’s head up, looked at her and sighed.

‘Come on now, sweetheart, don’t let him get to you.’

‘Has it been that obvious, Kath?’

Kath cocked her head to one side.

‘That you’re tired, hurt or infatuated with him? Listen, darlin’, this case is a big deal for Bradfield. He can’t afford to lose concentration or do anything wrong as his career’s on the line and maybe I should have warned you this morning when you told me . . . ’

Jane didn’t want to hear any more and hurried out through the station yard. She didn’t want anyone to see she was so close to crying. She couldn’t even bear to get on the bus so decided to walk back to the section house feeling flushed with embarrassment. Had everyone known? Did they all realize how she felt about Bradfield? She walked fast feeling even more humiliated, fearing she’d been the brunt of jokes or snide remarks. The more she thought about it the faster she walked until she was almost running flat out.

It had been a lovely service, thought Renee as she walked out of the church and saw Nancy talking with two women she recognized, but hadn’t seen or spoken to for many years.

Renee smiled and nodded. ‘That was a right good send-off for your Eddie. The vicar said some kind words and the hymns were a lovely choice.’ Renee leaned forward, kissed Nancy on the cheek and then hugged her.

‘You ain’t going, is ya?’ Nancy asked.

‘I’d best get back home as my David’s not well. His leg’s been playing up badly of late and—’

‘I’m havin’ no excuses, Renee Bentley. David’s a big boy now and can look after himself so you’re comin’ to the wake and that’s that. Besides the Crane sisters are here, come up from Southend for the day. They was just sayin’ they ain’t seen ya in years, so we all need a good chin-wag and knees-up.’

Before Renee could say no the Crane sisters linked arms with her and pulled her along, asking how she was doing.

The Star and Garter in Cambridge Heath Road had a large rear yard with tables and was decorated with a beautiful array of late-spring flowers in pots and hanging baskets, but the snug where the upright piano was positioned was where they all congregated. The landlord greeted them with a sherry on the house. Laid out on tables were sausage rolls, sandwiches and bowls of jellied eels, prawns and cockles. On the bar counter there was a pint glass with a bit of paper stuck to it saying ‘Eddie RIP’. Nancy shoved the remainder of the money she had collected into it to pay for the booze, and others who hadn’t seen her before the funeral dropped in £1 notes.

Renee spotted the piano. It had been too long, longer than she could remember, since she had last played one. She couldn’t read a note of music but was always able to play any tune by ear and had been popular on Sundays at their local when she and Clifford were younger. Sunday was the only day they’d get out as a family for a booze-up. She’d sit and play a medley of songs while everyone sang along, and her two young boys were content with a bag of crisps and a bottle of pop whilst playing tag or hide-and-seek outside with the other kids. They were days when Renee wasn’t browbeaten and the drudgery of her life didn’t wear her to the bone. Back then she, Clifford and the boys were a happy family. Renee knew that Clifford and John would be upset that she’d gone to the pub having told her to go straight home after the burial, but stuff ’em, she thought, looking forward to a sing-along and a knees-up.

Back at the section house Jane couldn’t shrug off her feelings of bewilderment and humiliation. She began to chide herself for being so unprofessional and knew if she hadn’t been so besotted with Bradfield she’d still be at the station working in the incident room. Just thinking about it made her feel worse; she didn’t want to sit in her room moping about and feeling sorry for herself. She put on some make-up and brushed her hair, then decided to go over to the Warburton Arms to see who was about for a drink.

To her surprise the pub was not that crowded for a Sunday night before a bank holiday, although it was only just after seven o’clock. She made her way to the bar and sat on one of the stools.

‘White wine and couple of ice cubes, please, Ron.’

She nearly fell off her stool when someone gave her a hug from behind.

‘Hi! It’s me, Sarah Redhead. I’m only here for a quick G and T as I’m on night shift at ten. Tonight will no doubt be like a Saturday as it’s a public holiday tomorrow. Saturdays are always busy, what with all the punch-ups, and you can guarantee there’ll be some drunks falling over and cracking their skulls open.’

Sarah perched on the stool next to Jane, who for the first time was actually pleased to have her as company. She was incredibly loud-voiced and launched into a bizarre story about a corpse with a glass eye, which had fallen out and dropped down the drain in the mortuary.

‘You won’t believe what they popped into his eye socket as a temporary replacement.’

Jane shrugged. ‘A marble?’

‘No, that’s too small. It was a table-tennis ball they cut in half, and they used some felt tips to draw an eye in the middle.’ She shrieked with laughter.

Jane cringed. ‘Did it work?’

‘Well, yes and no. It was OK until the grieving widow turned up to identify the body and couldn’t understand why the false eye had changed colour. She had a closer look and fainted. Well, the upshot was . . .’ She looked over Jane’s shoulder, spun around on her stool and shouted, ‘Julian! JULIAN!’

Jane recognized Dr Harker immediately as the forensic scientist whose lecture she’d attended. She blushed, remembering Lawrence teasing her about how she’d known about fibre transfer.

‘Hello, it’s Sarah Redhead, and this is Janet Tennison. Janet, this is Julian Harker.’

‘We’ve met. How are you,
Jane
?’ he said intentionally to embarrass Sarah, but Sarah didn’t flinch.

‘Let me get you a drink, Julian. Is that a pint of lager?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

‘And another white plonk for JANE and G and T for me, but I would appreciate a slice of lemon this time. On my slate, if you would be so kind, Ron.’

Ron told her to help herself to the lemon while he poured the pint. Julian gave Jane a small smile and raised an eyebrow as Sarah leaned over the bar to pick up a small saucer of lemon slices. He drew up a stool to sit beside her as Ron placed their drinks on the counter.

‘You have been such a stranger, Julian, and sadly I’m on night duty so I can’t stay too long,’ Sarah told him.

‘That’s a shame,’ he said limply.

Jane listened as Sarah talked to Julian as if she wasn’t there. Sarah told him how impressed she’d been by his lecture and couldn’t wait to get details of when and where he was next speaking so that she could attend. He was rather quiet and said he was due to go to the United States to lecture and attend forensic seminars on research and future technology. He was very polite as Sarah rambled on about a television documentary she had seen featuring new forensic tests to detect gunshot residue. It could link a suspect to a crime scene, and even show how close the suspect was to the gun. Harker obviously found it as tedious as Jane as he kept looking at her with an apologetic smile on his face.

At last Sarah finished her second G and T and got off her stool. Putting an arm around each of them she said she would have to love them and leave them as she was off to shower and change into her uniform. There was rather an awkward pause and then Julian tapped Jane’s arm.

‘I remember you were going to be a bridesmaid, isn’t that right?’

‘Yes, at my sister’s wedding.’

‘Well, being so young and attractive, I doubt you will be always the bridesmaid, as the saying goes.’ He gave a soft laugh.

She suddenly wanted to leave and slipped off her stool.

‘It was nice to see you again, Dr Harker.’

‘Ah, leaving me already? Why not stay and have another drink?’

‘I’m on nights as well,’ she lied.

‘Perhaps we could have dinner one evening on your day off? I’m still in London for a couple of weeks yet.’ He peeled away some of the top layer of a beer mat and wrote his contact number on the white bit.

‘Call me when you have a free night.’

She said nothing as he handed her the beer mat. She did not intend to go out with him since she knew he was married, but she smiled and slipped the number into her pocket.

Jane hurried across the road back to the section house, suddenly deciding to ring her parents. Her mother answered in a timid but posh voice.

‘Mrs Tennison speaking, how can I help you?’

‘Mummy, it’s me, Jane.’

‘Oh my good heavens, I was just thinking of you. Your father and I thought you might have come home for Sunday lunch, but we didn’t hear from you and I wanted to ring–’

‘I’ve been really busy, Mum.’

‘You sound a bit down, darling,’ she commented, her voice reverting to its normal tone.

‘I’m fine. I’ve got a couple of days off so I was thinking about coming home.’

The joy in her mother’s voice made her feel tearful.

‘I’m so excited! Pam and her husband will be here for lunch tomorrow as it’s a bank holiday; it’ll be just lovely with all the family together. I miss you, Daddy misses you.’

‘I’ll see you later tonight then. I’ll get the bus and Tube home so should be with you in a couple of hours.’

‘Oh that is good news. I’ll make up your bed right now.’

‘Thanks, Mum, see you later.’

Jane went to her room to get her light denim jacket. She had clothes and nightwear at home so didn’t need to carry anything but her handbag.

She waited at the bus stop outside the section house. It was by now seven forty-five and she realized she had not even thought about what was happening at the station. She gritted her teeth trying not to think about Bradfield, but couldn’t help wondering how the observation on the café and bank were going. The red double-decker bus clattered to a halt at the stop and Jane showed the conductor her warrant card as she climbed on and made her way up the stairs to sit at the back, as usual.

It was very warm. A few windows were open but there were only two passengers on the top deck. Jane felt depressed, staring through the window as the bus stopped and collected a few more passengers whilst some got off. They were just pulling in at the next stop when there was a resounding clash of gears and looking down from the window Jane saw an elderly woman picking up some groceries that had fallen out of her bag. She closed her eyes remembering how she had helped Renee Bentley pick up her groceries, and then assisted her back to the flat on the Pembridge Estate where she had the confrontation with her son John. Jane took a deep breath and felt hurt again, thinking that if she hadn’t recognized John Bentley’s voice Operation Hawk might never have taken place.

She was startled from her thoughts and almost fell from her seat when the bus suddenly jolted forwards and stopped. She pressed her hands hard on the back of the seat in front of her as the gears shuddered and the bus lurched forwards and stopped again. Jane looked down from the window as the bus conductor got off and went to speak to the driver. There were a few shouts and yells from passengers below and one man was swearing profusely.

The conductor got back on the bus and spoke in a loud voice so people upstairs could hear.

‘We got engine trouble so you’re all gonna have to wait for the next bus. Can you come down from upstairs and EVERYBODY OFF, PLEASE.’

Jane made her way downstairs and onto the pavement, where the rest of the passengers were complaining loudly. The conductor remained on the bus and lit a cigarette while the driver went to find the nearest call box to ring for a replacement. Jane heard an upset passenger ask when the next 253 bus would be along and the conductor said about half an hour or more as they were short of drivers.

They were almost directly across the road from the Star and Garter pub, and Jane could see that it had a nice railed rear yard and quite a few people were sitting at the outdoor tables drinking and chatting, kids running around playing games. The double doors to the pub were open and from the noise filtering out to the street it sounded quite lively, with a piano playing and people singing ‘Roll Out The Barrel’.

Jane thought her mother would start to worry if she didn’t arrive within two hours so decided she’d check and see if the pub had a payphone that she could use.

The old-fashioned pub had a big circular counter and was filled with drinkers leaning up against it. The partition leading to the snug bar was crowded and the bellow of ‘Knees Up, Mother Brown’ now began to ring out with the occasional wrong note played on the piano.

Jane found a payphone and put in a quick call to her mother who wondered what all the noise was. Jane explained where she was and what had happened with the bus and her mum thanked her for the call. She then had to edge along the bar before she could find a gap between drinkers to signal to a sweating barman that she wanted to order a drink. She began to feel embarrassed, and out of place, as the mostly male drinkers were overweight, potbellied men. Some of them were in short-sleeved shirts and a few wore vests, exposing their hairy chests gleaming with sweat. There was a round of applause and cheers as the song ended and then thudding out from the piano came a few chords before they started to sing ‘The Lambeth Walk’.