under their command. Some forces don’t use the name any more: in the Met it’s become part of SO15, the counter- terrorism command, and Strathclyde call it something different too. We still use the old name, but I don’t give a bugger what we call it, as long as the unit works effectively and doesn’t let anyone slip through the net that it should be catching. One other thing; it isn’t part of CID, although its officers use detective ranks. Its head reports directly to me, and my deputy. That doesn’t mean every day, but I like to be up to speed with everything that’s going on, so you will be seeing a lot of me,’ he paused, ‘assuming that you want the job. You may decline without any offence being taken on my part, as long as the fact of the offer remains within this room. What do you say?’
There wasn’t a chance of my turning it down. I was getting stale in CID; I knew it and it was only a matter of time before my line managers did as well. I needed a new challenge, so badly that I’d even been contemplating asking for a move to uniform. However, I didn’t want to give the impression of being too keen, so I let it appear for a few seconds that I was engaged in sombre thought.
When I decided I’d pondered enough, I looked back at him and said, gravely, ‘I’d like to do it, sir. I’m honoured even to be considered for the post.’
‘It’s gone beyond consideration,’ he retorted. ‘It’s yours. I’ve talked it through with DCI Leggat, and he’s onside with the idea.’
Fred Leggat was my immediate boss. I’d had to tell him about my meeting at HQ and the sod hadn’t given me a clue that he’d known what it was about. ‘When do I start, sir?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘You’re here. You might as well start now.’
‘But. .’ He’d stunned me again. ‘What about vetting?’
‘That’s all been done; you’re cleared. You’ll be replacing DI Dorothy Shannon. It’s time for her to move back to CID. I’m doing a straight swap; she’s going to your job in Dalkeith. The pair of you can spend the rest of the week doing a handover to each other.’ He looked at me. ‘How’s Jen?’
The sudden switch of topic threw me off balance. In the middle of giving me a career-changing move he was asking me about my wife?
‘She’s okay, sir,’ I replied. ‘She’s a full-time housewife these days.’ I was going to leave it at that, but I realised that his question had come from genuine concern, not casual curiosity.
‘By which I really mean,’ I continued, ‘that she doesn’t go out any more unless she really has to. She’s never got over losing the wee fella, and I don’t believe that she ever will. She’s withdrawn from all her circle of friends. I’m told that’s not unusual in these circumstances, but she hasn’t made any new ones. Our house is like a builder’s show home, and the garden’s like a Chelsea Flower Show exhibit, because she has nothing else in her life. When I say she doesn’t go out, I am not kidding. She does all the shopping, food, everything, on the internet. If you ever run short of double A batteries, just call by our place. Jen buys them by the box.’
He frowned. ‘Has anyone suggested medication?’
‘For what, sir? There’s nothing medically wrong with her. She’s just sad, for a terrible reason, and the pill that will make her happy again hasn’t been invented. I’ve tried, believe me, in all the ways you’d expect. Nothing worked. I booked a surprise break in Paris a year ago. She wouldn’t go. I’d packed our case, there was a taxi at the door, and she refused point blank to get in it. We don’t sleep together now: it’s not that she’d refuse, but I know that I’d be imposing myself on her, just using her body, and I’d rather pay a hooker than do that.’ I gasped at the enormity of what I’d just said. ‘Not that I have, sir,’ I spluttered, ‘or ever would.’
‘I know that,’ he said, sympathetically. ‘Your vetting was very thorough. . but I know you better than that anyway. But if you ever feel the need. .’
‘Don’t worry,’ I exclaimed. ‘If I ever do I’ll resign from SB rather than compromise myself, or the job.’
‘Hell, George,’ he chuckled, ‘I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to ask you to be open with me if you do get involved with a third party. If I know about it, then, unless you really are paying ladies of the night, you’re not in any professional difficulty.’
He paused again. ‘Do you want to bring anyone with you?’ he asked.
He nodded. ‘It’s possible. I may have made mistakes in the past by moving people into the Branch one at a time, so, if there’s anyone you’ve worked with that you feel might be an asset. .’
I didn’t have to think about it. ‘Lisa McDermid,’ I said, instantly, ‘my sergeant. She’s a top operator.’
The chief grinned. ‘I know that too,’ he chuckled. ‘Fred Leggat’s not going to be too chuffed at losing both of you, but Dorothy’s a good operator, so yes, you can have McDermid. You’ll have someone else in your team too, since DC Singh’s due for rotation as well, but at this moment I’m not entirely sure who it’ll be.’
At that moment I didn’t give a bugger. I used to work with big Tarvil and I was sorry he’d be going, but the boss could have dropped old Charlie Johnston on me as his replacement and I wouldn’t have cared. I’d been re- energised. I’d gone into that room afraid, because I’d thought I was facing the end of a stagnant career, and I’d come out with a new one, and with my self-confidence restored.
Fred Leggat tells a story from the past, about seeing Bob Skinner dealing with a couple of lazy officers who thought they could get away with anything. ‘Scary, George. Fucking scary.’ If that’s so, being praised by the man is at the other end of the scale. He hadn’t even said all that much to me, yet I found myself. . inspired isn’t too strong a word.
It wasn’t the prospect of redundancy that had frightened me. No, it was the thought of what might have followed if I hadn’t been able to find another job, of being stuck in that refrigerator of a house with no escape other than to the golf course during the day and to the Longniddry Inn in the evening. I’ve forbidden Jen from making our newish home a temple to wee George’s memory. . that will never fade. . and so she’s gone to the other extreme, making it everything that it wasn’t when he was around, neat, ordered, everything in its place, so unnaturally tidy that it reminds me of him even more and now, even though he never lived in that house, my heart breaks all over again every time I walk thought the fucking door. I’ve thought about leaving her, but I couldn’t be that cruel. I confess that I did harbour thoughts about Lisa McDermid for a while. I never said anything out of place, but she cottoned on anyway, and very gently, very kindly, told me to forget it. She suggested that Jen and I find a shared hobby, and for a couple of months, I tried, but it was no use. Wrapped in her green housecoat, my wife is dying of grief, a terrible affliction; it may take another thirty, forty years to run its course, and while it does I’ve pledged to be as kind to her as I can, and to love her, as I always have, while spending only such time as I must in her company, lest I fall victim too.
My career move, to a job with irregular hours in an office further away from home, offered me another avenue of escape, and I was buoyed up by the prospect as I walked from the chief’s office to the small suite that houses Special Branch.
Some might imagine there’s a keypad on the door, or a secret knock, but I just walked in. The first person I saw was Tarvil Singh, dwarfing his desk, as always. He was my DC when I’d worked in Edinburgh, before he’d been moved out of mainstream CID. He’s a Sikh, but he doesn’t wear a turban when he’s working, because he says it makes him too conspicuous. Given the size of him, that always makes me laugh. He wasn’t surprised to see me; that told me who’d done my vetting.
DI Shannon was expecting me too. I hadn’t seen her for a while, not since her uniform days in Leith. Before that, there was a time when I’d seen quite a lot of her, including the pink bits, and the scars from a bad car accident she’d been in as a kid. Back then, when I was another man, she and I had what is called, euphemistically, a ‘fling’, until a very good friend made me see sense. She’s the one blot on my marital record, and it was so short- lived that it hadn’t occurred to me to wonder whether it had showed up on my vetting. When I worked out that if Tarvil had done it, she’d probably signed off on it, I knew the answer.
She hasn’t changed much since then; her hair tone might be a little more subtle, but that’s it. One thing I did notice fairly quickly; I didn’t see as much of her gold tooth as I remembered. That was because she wasn’t smiling as she began to brief me on the contents of the two trays on her desk.
‘Are you sorry to be going, Dottie?’ I asked her. ‘The county patch is okay, I promise you.’
‘That obvious, eh?’ she muttered. ‘Yes, George, you’re right; I’m a bit pissed off. Most people leave this job on promotion, but not me, oh no. And there I was thinking that the glass ceilings had been shattered for good.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose I’ve only got myself to blame. I had a run-in with the new deputy chief’s sainted husband not long before he died. I guess he must have told her, and my card was marked from then on.’
