“I’m not sure I want that,” said Winsome. “Really. I mean it this time. One of us has to go. I can’t work with him again, watch the way he tramples all over people’s feelings. I don’t know if I can wait for his transfer to come through.”
“Look,” said Annie, “nobody ever said being a copper was easy.
Sometimes you have to play dirty, tough it out. Be patient and hang in there.”
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P E T E R R O B I N S O N
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Winsome said. “You’re
“I’m not bloody defending him,” said Annie. “I’m just trying to tell you that if you want to survive in this job you have to toughen up, that’s all.”
“You don’t think I’m strong enough?”
“You need to develop a thicker skin.”
“You don’t think black skin is thicker than white?”
“What?” said Annie.
“You heard me. How do you think I deal with all the innuendos and outright insults? People either look down on you, or they go out of their way to pretend they don’t notice your color, that you’re really just like anybody else, but they end up talking to you like they talk to children. I don’t know which is worse. Do you know what it’s like to have someone stare at you or insult you like some sort of lesser being, an
“I don’t know about Hayley Daniels’s father,” said Annie, “but those old men don’t know any better. I know it’s not an excuse, but they don’t. And I might not know how it feels to have people look at me that way because of the color of my skin, but I do know how it feels when they treat me like a lesser species because I’m a woman.”
“Then double it!” said Winsome.
Annie looked at her, and they both started laughing so loudly an el der ly couple sitting nearby frowned at them. “Oh, what the hell,”
said Annie, raising her glass. “Here’s to kicking against the pricks.”
They clinked glasses. Annie’s mobile rang and she pulled it out of her handbag. “Yes?”
“Annie? It’s Eric.”
“Eric. What the hell do you want?”
“That’s not very nice.”
“I told you not to ring me on my mobile. I’m having dinner with a colleague.”
“Male or female?”
“That’s none of your bloody business.”
“Okay. Okay. Sorry. Just asking. Look, I was thinking about you, F R I E N D O F T H E D E V I L
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and I thought why wait till Thursday. You’re obviously busy tonight, but what about tomorrow? Wednesday. Lunch?”
“I have to go to Leeds tomorrow,” Annie said, wondering why she was even bothering to tell Eric this. “And I told you I’m not coming on Thursday.”
“Thursday it is, then,” said Eric. “Sorry to bother you.” And he ended the call.
Annie shoved her mobile back in her handbag.
“Something wrong?” asked Winsome.
Annie ground her teeth, then took a deep breath and a swallow of wine. She looked at Winsome, weighed up the pros and cons and said,
“Yes, I think there is. With me. Let’s order another bottle of wine and I’ll tell you all the sordid details.”
The waitress came with the Chianti. Winsome finished her cannel-loni and rested her elbows on the table. Annie poured them both a generous glass.
“Come on, then,” Winsome said. “Do tell.”
“It’s nothing, really,” Annie said, feeling embarrassed and awkward now the time had come.
“You seemed annoyed enough on the phone. Who was it?”
“It’s just . . . well, you know, the other night, Saturday night, I went out on the town with some friends.” She touched her hair and laughed.
“As much as you can go out on the town in a place like Whitby.”
“What happened?”
“Well, I met this bloke and . . . one thing led to another. I had way too much to drink and we smoked a couple of joints and to cut a long story short, the next morning I woke up in his bed.”
“You did what?”
“You heard me. I met this bloke and went back to his place.”
