He hurried away to the two women by the piano.
Dalziel, who had noticed that Wulfstan, despite his close confabulation with the fire inspector, hadn't missed a nuance of this exchange, murmured to himself, 'No perhaps about it, lad.'
Then he went out into the sunshine.
It was, decided Pascoe, like being on a stakeout.
You did your stag, sat and watched, nothing happened, you got relieved, went off and had a wash and a sandwich, got your head down if you could, went back on stag, and the longer it all went on, the more you began to fear it was all no bloody use, all just a waste of time, your info was wrong, your snout had been sussed, and nothing was going to happen, not now, not in a few minutes, not ever… never never never never nev- 'Everything okay?' said Ellie.
'What? Yeah, sure, fine, I mean no change…'
'You look worse than she does,' said Ellie looking from the slight form of her daughter to her husband's drawn face. 'Why don't you go and try to get some sleep?'
He shook his head and said, 'Been there, tried that, it's worse than being awake.'
'Okay. At least get out of this place, try some fresh air and sunshine.'
'I'm sick of sunshine, couldn't I try some rain?' he said, managing a smile.
She kissed him gently on the lips and he went out of the ward.
The hospital grounds were extensive and had once been a center of horticultural excellence. But the public purse strings had been drawn much tighter in recent years, and this, plus the drought and its attendant hose ban, had turned the gardens into near desert. He walked around for a while, then sat down on a bench and watched the stream of people moving between the parking lot and the main entrance. Coming, their gait was halting and slow; going they moved with ease and vigor. Or was his keen detective gaze distorted by fatigue and that rumbling rage which, like a storm in a neighbor valley, never left him?
Eventually he must have fallen asleep, for he woke suddenly, slumped against the bench, not knowing where he was, then panicking when he worked it out.
But a glance at his watch told him he'd only been away for half an hour. He stood up, stretched, walked briskly back inside, and found a washroom where he splashed cold water over his face.
He got himself a coffee from a machine and went back upstairs. It was, he decided, too early to go back into the ward. Ellie would just get exasperated with him and give him the let's-be-sensible-about-this lecture. Not that he minded the lecture. Like the Mr. Nice and Mr. Nasty interrogation technique, they took turns at being the tower of strength and the weaker vessel. The lecture was part of Ellie's tower mode.
The waiting-room door was slightly ajar and as he made to enter to finish his coffee inside, he heard Derek Purlingstone's voice. He hadn't seen the man so far today. Maybe Mid-Yorkshire Water needed all their staff out in the sticks, digging for wells. Or maybe he needed to keep busy to stop going mad.
Mad was what he sounded now, more angry than mental.
'You know where I lay the blame, don't you?'
Jill said, 'Please, Derek…'
'That bloody school! If only you'd agreed to send her to a decent school, this would never have happened. No! Don't come near me. You smell like an old ashtray. God, did you have to start smoking again?'
Before Pascoe could retreat the door was pulled wide open and Jill Purlingstone, her eyes full of tears, pushed past him and ran down the corridor.
Pascoe stepped inside. His instinct was to pretend he'd heard nothing, but when he broke the awkward silence, he found himself saying, 'You don't really think the school's got anything to do with it, do you?'
'They had to catch it somewhere,' snapped Purlingstone.
'And you really think there'd have been less chance at what you call a 'decent school'?'
Pascoe's intention was still conversational rather than combative. During their few social encounters, usually apropos the children, he'd found Purlingstone pleasant enough company, with sufficient common ground between them to make it easy to pass a couple of hours without trespass into disputed areas on either side. And when they had touched upon forbidden topics, like the responsibilities of a modern police force or the efficiency and record of Mid-Yorkshire Water, they had both been able to settle for a light, piss-taking touch. Perhaps that was what Purlingstone was straining for now as he said, 'Don't you? You get what you pay for in this life, Peter. Okay, I know you and Ellie are card-carrying Trots, but I always got the impression you reckoned what was best for Rosie was worth going after, no holds barred.'
'The best in the system, by all means,' said Pascoe. 'But not buying yourself out of the system.'
'You mean it's okay for you to call in a few favors to get your kid where you want her, but not for me to pay a few quid to do the same?'
'What the hell are you saying? It's a good school and I'm pleased to have Rosie going there.'
'Of course you are, especially as Bullgate Junior's three miles closer to you in the opposite direction. How many parking tickets did you have to cancel to get her on the roll at Edengrove, I wonder?'
The sneer came out so glibly that Pascoe guessed it had been used many times before. So what? he told himself. He wasn't always exactly complimentary about Purlingstone behind his back. Time to back away from this irritable spat between two men who should be united by worry instead of set at each other's throats by it.
That was what his mind was saying, but his voice wasn't taking any notice.
'Oh, yes, you're right, a hell of a lot of parking tickets. But that's because I'm not a fat cat with his nose in the trough, so I can't afford the really big bribes.'
Jesus! Where's your self-control? he asked himself. Back off. Back off. He could see the other man, too, was close to snapping. Here it comes. Whatever he says, ignore it, walk away.
But his feet remained rooted as Purlingstone's strained, breathless voice said, 'I don't have to take that from a jumped-up plod. I work bloody hard for my money, mate. I live in the real world and I've got to earn every penny I get.'
'You're joking!' said Pascoe incredulously. 'You're doing the same job you used to do before privatization. And if what they paid you then was peanuts, what's that make you now but a monkey with a bloated bank balance? And you know where that money's coming from? It's coming from us poor sods who can't get decent water pumped into our houses. Christ, if anyone's responsible for our kids being sick, it's likely to be you with your polluted beaches and stinking tap water!'
Purlingstone, his face working, took a step toward him. Pascoe balled his fist. Then he felt himself seized from behind and dragged through the door, which was slammed shut behind him.
'Peter, what the hell are you playing at?' demanded Ellie, her voice low but trembling with fury.
'I don't know… he said… and I just felt it was time… oh, shit, it was just stupid. Things came pouring out. Him too. He said-'
'I'm not interested in what he said. All I'm interested in is our daughter, and you getting into a fight in the hospital waiting room isn't going to help her, is it? Look, if you can't hack it here, why don't you go out, go home, have a sleep?'
He took a deep breath, reached down inside himself for control, found it.
'No, I've tried that, it doesn't help,' he said. 'I'm sorry. It's just I'm so frustrated, I had to lash out. Could have been worse. Could have been you on the receiving end. What are you doing out of the ward, anyway? Nothing's happened, has it?'
'You think I'd be wasting time on this crap? No, no change. I just need the loo, that's all. And I need it even more after this delay.'
'Take your time,' said Pascoe. 'I'll go into the ward, see if I can find a nurse to beat up.'
His weak joke seemed to reassure her, and she hurried off. Pascoe looked at the waiting-room door, wondered if he should go in and try to make his peace, decided he wasn't quite ready for that yet, and went down the corridor to the room where Rosie lay.
A nurse was checking the monitors. She gave him a nice smile before she left, so perhaps he didn't look like Mr. Hyde after all. He sat down and took his daughter's hand.
'Hi, Rosie,' he said. 'It's me. I've just been having a fight with Zandra's dad. You didn't think fathers had fights, did you? Well, it's just like the school playground out there. One moment you're minding your own business, next, someone says something and you say something back, then you're rolling on the ground trying to bite someone's ear off. That's boys I'm talking about. You girls are different. Got more sense, your mum would say.
