Brook waited for Tony outside the conference room and let him pass. Tony led Brook to another door and they went into his private office. As Tony closed the door behind Brook, a dozen faces looked on from the safety of the conference room.
When they were alone Tony turned to face Brook, flinching at the expected blow but not preparing to defend himself.
‘Do you think I’ve come here to hit you, Tony?’
‘I don’t know. I only know I’ve been a shit. I deserve it.’
‘You want me to hurt you, don’t you?’
‘No, I…’
‘Course you do. You think you’ll feel better. You’ll think you’ve had your punishment.’
‘No.’
‘Well I’m not making it that easy for you. Not a chance. Nothing you can say will make me hurt you.’
‘Listen, Damen, it just happened, I didn’t plan it this way…’
Brook took a one step run up and kicked Tony in the crotch. He collapsed to the deep shag carpet like a slaughtered cow, doubled in agony. His breath came in harsh rasps. And Brook circled him without expression.
‘Now look what you’ve made me do. That’s not what I wanted at all, but you’re too clever for me. And now you’re feeling a lot better and I feel like a fool.’ Brook ambled to the window and looked out across the bay. ‘Nice view.’
Tony was still panting hard but not as violently as before. ‘Do what you want to me. It won’t change what’s happened. We still love each other.’
Brook pursed his lips, his body rigid with effort. ‘Does Amy know?’
‘No, and she’s not going to, not from me anyway.’
‘She’ll find out, Tony. Sooner or later. Terri’s a young girl. You took her virginity. She can’t lock that sort of thing away forever. Not from her mum.’
Tony started sobbing. Finally he said, ‘I’ve ruined everything.’
Brook smiled and pulled him up onto a chair, patting him on the back. ‘Yes you have. But you see, that’s self-knowledge right there. That’s a good thing. I’ve discovered, and you’ll find the same, that if you can acknowledge your mistakes, if you can put your hand in the air and say,
‘Now here’s what you’re going to do, Tony. When I leave, you’re going to pull yourself together and you’re going to ring Amy. You’re going to arrange to meet her in town for lunch at your favourite restaurant. Tell her you’ve got a promotion or a big salary increase, she’s bound to believe a slick salesman like you…’
‘I couldn’t. I couldn’t face her after this.’
‘That’s good, because you’re not going to. While she’s out, you’re going to slip back home, pack your bags and leave Brighton. Today.’
‘What?’
‘That’s right. Today. And you’re not ever going to come back.’
‘What about Amy?’
‘You’ll never see her or Terri again. And don’t worry. You’ve seen how well Amy gets over failed marriages. She can look after herself. She’s got her own money. And some of yours.’
‘Where will I go?’
‘I don’t care, Tony-as long as you go for good. Clear?’
‘But my life’s here…’
‘Not any more.’
‘It was an accident. I’ll talk to Terri. She’ll understand…’
Brook grabbed Tony by the collar and forced his face into eye contact. ‘No, you have to understand, Tony. If you don’t leave I’ll have you arrested. You’ve broken the law and you can go to prison. You wouldn’t like prison, Tony. It’s not for people like you. Especially if people get the idea you’re some kind of nonce. And believe me they will. You’ll feel like you’ve had a Giant Redwood shoved up your arse.’
Brook released him and he slumped onto the floor. After a long pause for thought, Tony sighed with resignation. ‘Alright, I’ll leave.’ With that, his face crumpled and he cried like a smacked child. Brook picked him up and patted him again.
‘Good. That wasn’t hard was it? And don’t ever come back. Not ever. Understand?’
Brook gave Tony a friendly slap on the face and stood to walk cheerily out of the office, being sure to leave the door ajar for inquisitive spectators to get a clear sight of Tony’s humiliation.
‘Merry Christmas.’
Chapter Twenty-three
Brook sat in his kitchen, drinking coffee and watching Cat vacuum his way through a plate of prawns, the traditional peace offering after being left to survive on the cheap cat food provided by Mrs Saunders while he was away. It had been five days since his return and one since his subsequent suspension-a month, on full pay.
‘The least I can give you,’ McMaster had said. ‘It’s out of my hands. DI Greatorix has taken over the Wallis enquiry.’
She’d seemed genuinely sorry, though it was difficult to be sure. Perhaps the best indicator of her state of mind were the telltale signs of neglect in her beloved spider plant.
‘Don’t worry, ma’am. I understand. I need to get away.’
‘A holiday?’ She looked him in the eye to check he was serious. ‘That’s fine, Damen. I envy you. Have a good rest and we’ll see you soon, fit and well.’
A holiday. Hardly that. But no matter. Now he was free. Free to dig deep. Free to do what he should have done all those years ago, what he would’ve done had he not been so blinkered, so certain.
All that remained was to be sure Jones was untainted by his folly and, by the time he left the Chief Super’s office, McMaster was in no doubt that WPC Jones had acted properly at all times and had even tried to object to some of DI Brook’s decisions.
As a result, Jones didn’t even receive a reprimand, just a quiet word, ‘one girl to another,’ as McMaster had put it.
But that was as good as it would get for Jones. Brook knew she could expect a harder time from colleagues. Nothing could stop the avalanche of comment from the rest of the station about their missing nights together in a seedy Brighton guest house.
It began for Brook as soon as he walked through the front door. He’d slipped into the station early that first morning, hoping to avoid the worst. But Harry Hendrickson was at the front desk when he arrived and his face broke into a malicious grin.
‘Well if it ain’t Romeo. Juliet still in bed is she, lover boy?’ he’d said with a smirk. ‘She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not,’ he crowed at Brook’s retreating back, before turning to PC Robinson for approval.
And this time Hendrickson wasn’t the lone source of barbs. Everyone in the division felt they had a contribution to make and lost no opportunity to present their material. A group of fresh-faced constables sang
Even Greatorix had joined in, going out of his way to deliver the odd wisecrack, though for the most part he was content just to be smug. And why not? It didn’t get much better for a low-flyer like Bob Greatorix. Revenge was rarely so swift and so sweet and he wasn’t about to pass up the chance to twist the knife-revenge for Brook’s superiority, revenge for his insinuations in the canteen, revenge for all Brook’s advantages-his money, his brains, his healthy glands.
But, to the annoyance of his detractors, Brook was at peace with the world. Once he would have recoiled from such attention, everybody knowing his business and talking about it. He still didn’t enjoy it, but since that day on the pier with Terri, he’d changed. He’d lost his daughter, the only thing of value to him. Now, nothing mattered.
