Akhtar had lost his son, his wife, everything he had ever worked for. Once the body had been removed and the forensic evidence gathered, a FOR SALE sign had gone up outside his shop and those dirty metal shutters had come down for the final time.
The word MURDERER now legible underneath PAKI.
One thing Thorne had decided to do with the free time so generously granted him by the Directorate of Professional Standards was try and get the flat in Kentish Town shifted. The estate agent was talking about dropping the price a little further, but Thorne wanted to try tarting the place up a bit first. A lick of paint, the smell of fresh coffee, all that. Though the change of direction job-wise would now need to be put on hold for the immediate future, or more likely would be decided for him, he could at least make an effort as far as domestic circumstances were concerned.
Not that there hadn’t already been major changes in that area.
‘Sorry, did he wake you?’
Thorne looked up to see Helen in the doorway, carrying the baby. ‘I was awake already.’
‘Do you mind if he comes in with us?’
‘Course not,’ Thorne said. ‘It’s your bed. Are you all right with that though? I mean… ’
‘Fine with me.’ She folded back the duvet and laid Alfie down. ‘I mean we’ll have to see how jealous he gets.’ She grinned as she climbed in. ‘And believe it or not, he snores.’
‘I think I can live with that.’
‘Then again, so do you.’
‘That’s rubbish.’
‘ And you talk in your sleep.’
‘What?’
‘Should have heard yourself the other night. “Phil, Phil… ”’
‘You’re hilarious,’ Thorne said. Thinking about it, he probably had talked a good deal about Phil Hendricks since he and Helen had begun spending time together, that friendship one of the few things in his life he could still count on. Actually, they had talked about all sorts of things this last couple of weeks, the job not included. Laughed a lot too, which never hurt. ‘I don’t though, do I?’
‘Well it’s only been four nights.’ Helen turned on to her side and looked at him. ‘Didn’t Louise ever say anything?’
Thorne shook his head.
Four nights. Many bottles of wine…
The baby had begun to grizzle a little and Helen drew him close. Thorne moved gradually across to close the gap and found himself enjoying the feel of the small warm body against his own. The hand that flopped on to his arm or the swaddled foot that dug into his ribs. ‘He’s got a decent kick on him,’ Thorne said. ‘We could do with him at Spurs.’ He turned on to his side and looked at Helen. ‘Did Paul support a team?’
Helen’s turn to shake her head.
They lay in silence for a while, but Alfie refused to settle and began to cry again. Helen said that three in a bed was a stupid idea. That she was happy to take the baby back to the spare room, so that Thorne could try and get to sleep.
‘Stay here,’ Thorne said. ‘It’s not like I’ve got anything to get up for, is it?’
‘What do you think they’ll do?’ Helen asked.
Thorne knew that the DPS had plenty of options. ‘Depends how public they want to be about it,’ he said. ‘I could always save them the trouble and knock it on the head.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘It’s good to think about doing something else every now and again,’ he said. ‘Don’t you reckon? Something nice and simple and boring.’
‘I suppose.’
‘Apparently, there’s a newsagent’s for sale just up the road.’
Helen began to giggle, and when she lifted her leg across his, Thorne reached over the baby to stroke her neck. ‘Let me take him next door,’ she said. ‘I can get him off in ten minutes and come back.’
Thorne nodded, grinning. ‘Then you can get me off,’ he said.
That was when Alfie chose to start kicking him again.
