Down to Sleep

by Clare Revell

  “It’s not the same thing. Phil’s just a friend.”

  “It’s exactly the same thing. You talk about him all the time.”

  “I do not.” Rosa glared at him; arms folded tight across her middle.

  “You do too.” Zander stopped at the lights and eyed the clock. They should still make the start of the film. “It’s a good thing I’m not the jealous type.”

  “Are you really going there?” Rosa whined.

  “You started it, but I’m big enough to finish it.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. A change of subject was called for. And pronto. “I saw Gramps this week.”

  Rosa put a hand on his knee. “Sorry. How is he?”

  “Not great. I need to see him more often.”

  “You ring him a lot.”

  He shook his head. “Not the same. This time the lift wasn’t working. He had no milk, hardly any food. The neighbour I trusted to check in on him had gone away without telling me. I…”

  She squeezed his leg. “It’s OK. You found him and, knowing you as well as I do, no doubt you fixed the problem.”

  He didn’t bother to say that Isabel had done a better job in solving the issues than he had. “He’s the only close family I have.” He drove away from the lights, concentrating on the road. At least the rain had eased off a little now. Gramps was right. He did need to make an effort with the rest of his family. He should at least ring one of his sisters and find out how everyone was. After all, his problem was with his father, no one else.

  “Can we stop at my house really quick as we’re almost there?” Rosa asked. “I’d like to change my shoes and grab my jacket.”

  “Sure. Told you we had plenty of time.” He turned into a side road and parked. “I’ll wait here. Need to make a quick phone call. Don’t be long. We’ve got twenty minutes before the film starts.”

  “OK.” Rosa got out of the car and ran to the house.

  Zander pulled out his phone. Which of his four sisters should he ring? Who’d be more likely to answer? Carrie, Laura, Mary, or Grace? Well, as Carrie was first on the contact list, he’d call her. The phone rang twice.

  “Hello, stranger.” His sister sounded almost amused. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Are you all right?”

  “Hi, Carrie. I’m fine. How are you?”

  “I’m OK. I must say I’m surprised to hear from you. I was beginning to think you’d fallen off the face of the planet.”

  “Not quite. How’s everyone?”

  “We’re all fine.” Carrie’s voice turned suspicious. “Why?”

  “Just wondered.” Zander took a deep breath, deciding to come clean. “It occurred to me that my problem is with Dad, no one else. Saw Gramps this week, and he asked if I’d ever tried contacting Mum through you or the others.”

  “Took you long enough! We’d been wondering that ourselves. I’m actually with the parentals now. One minute.”

  Zander glanced up at the house. Where was Rosa? Was she doing this as payback for him giving Isabel a ride home?

  Rustling filtered through the phone. Then a quiet voice spoke. One he knew so well and missed so much.

  “Hello?”

  Tears rushed to his eyes and a lump constricted his throat. “Mum…”

  “I’ve missed you so much. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. I’ve missed you, too. I’m sorry it’s been so long. I—”

  Carrie’s rushed voice came back on the line. “I have to go. I’ll text you.” She hung up.

  Zander stared at the phone, bereft. An aching longing overwhelmed him. He glanced up at the house. Where was Rosa? Did he have to go and get her? They really would be late now. The clock on the dashboard gave them five minutes. But at least there would be around twenty minutes of adverts before the film proper began.

  The phone beeped and he swiped open the message.

  Sorry Zed. Dad came back into the room. Mum and I will be in Headley Cross on Monday to do some shopping. I know you’re working, but can we meet somewhere?

  He didn’t even have to think about the answer.

  Yes! How about around 12:30 in the Three Sixteen Café?

  Look forward to it. Love you big bro.

  Love you too little sis.

  Zander slid his phone into his pocket and glared at the clock. This was beyond a joke now. He undid his seatbelt. He’d go and pound on her front door and find out where she was. Maybe she didn’t want to go out at all now. Rosa finally came back as he got a foot out of the door.

  “Sorry,” she apologised as she slid onto her seat. “Phil rang. Asked if I had his shirt in my case. So, I checked, and I did. He’ll come get it in the morning.”

  Zander grimaced. He wouldn’t even ask how Phil’s shirt ended up in Rosa’s case. “Kettle pot black,” he told her, starting the car.

  Rosa laughed. “Point taken. Let’s go. Look at it this way, we booked the seats and at least by the time we get there, we’ll have missed all those pesky adverts.”

  5

  Monday came all too soon. At least the phone hadn’t rung all weekend, for which Isabel was grateful. She’d spent the time organising her kitchen the way she wanted it. Boxing up stuff she no longer needed or had never used and taking it to the charity shop on the High Street. She’d had Sunday lunch over at Gran’s, and to make things even better, hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Farrell.

  The bus was late. Again. Isabel barely made the morning briefing. She’d have to get up earlier and catch a different bus in future. She was the last one in and the Guv was in full flow when she crept inside the briefing room. “Sorry,” she managed, cheeks flaming as she sank into her seat next to Zander.

  DI Holmes frowned. “So nice of you to join us, Isabel. As I was saying, the new Chief Super starts today. Chief Superintendent Ashford Clydesdale comes to us from the Met. He’ll be visiting each department over the next couple of weeks. He’ll be checking files, watching us work, so please make sure everything is neat and tidy and all paperwork is up to date.”

  He shot Isabel a pointed glance. “That includes desks. Oh, and no extended lunch breaks, please. I don’t want to give him any ammunition. Dismissed.”

  Isabel glanced at her partner.

  Zander sat still with a distracted look on his face. As though the world had just ended or something.

  “You OK?”

  “Yeah.”

  She pushed upright. “At least your desk is tidy.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed and headed back into the squad room.

  Isabel followed him. Something was bugging him. She’d hoped he trusted her enough by now to talk to her, but apparently not. She dumped her bag on her desk. A brown A5 envelope sat on top of her in-tray. Typed name and address. She picked it up, glancing at the postmark. Dated Saturday and posted locally. Turning the envelope over, she tore it open.

  Rather than a letter, it contained a postcard. Weird. Who posted postcards in envelopes? The picture was a photo of a river, surrounded by trees, possibly taken from a bridge or maybe a hillside.

  She turned it over to read the back.

  Hmmm, obviously homemade. Instead of the usual back, this card just had black printed writing, all in large, capital letters. With two small numbers in the bottom right hand corner.

  I AM THE LORD YOUR GOD. YOU SHALL HAVE NO OTHER GODS BEFORE ME. 5-7

  Zander tapped her shoulder. “What’s that?”

  “Nothing important.” She shoved the letter into her desk drawer. Probably just another crank crawling out of the woodwork. She wouldn’t make a fool of herself by making something out of nothing. Despite the rain on Friday, the heat had returned full force. “So, what are we doing this morning?”

  “You are sorting out your desk,” he said pointing to the mess on it. “Whilst I am making sure all the I’s are dotted and T’s are crossed on the paperwork. Then we have a meeting at half past twelve.”

  “Who with?”

  Zander tilted his head towards DI Holmes. “A possible informant
is all you need know. Might run over into lunch, not sure yet.”

  “O—K.” She peered closely at him. “Have you shaved?”

  He ran a hand over his barely there but still visible beard. “I might have. Why?”

  “And a haircut.” She sniffed. “Are you wearing cologne? This possible informant isn’t a woman by any chance, is she?”

  Colour tinged his cheeks as he scrunched his nose at her. “Just tidy your desk. But first you can make the coffee. Despite all your practising, it’s still not perfect.”

  She gave a mock salute, rather enjoying the morning banter over who made the coffee. Even though he moaned hers wasn’t drinkable, he always asked her to do it. “Yes, boss.”

  “And hush your larrup.”

  She smirked. “No, boss.”

  Zander sighed and held out his cup. “Let me guess. Three bags full, boss.”

  Isabel grabbed the cup and laughed. “I wasn’t sure you’d get the nursery rhyme reference as I said boss and not sir.”

  Zander chuckled. “I’ll have you know I can sing Baa Baa Black Sheep to several different tunes. Including Rule Britannia and Land of Hope and Glory.” He turned back to his paperwork, singing it under his breath to prove it.

  Clearing her desk took Isabel until just after twelve. She hadn’t realised how much mess there actually was on it. Perhaps Zander and DI Holmes had a point. The thing was that Farrell insisted on everything being just so, and when he wasn’t around, she rebelled in a tiny way.

  DI Holmes strode passed her. “Much better. Keep it like that.”

  “Yes, Guv.” She shoved the last few pens into the pen pot and threw away the ones that no longer worked.

  Zander checked his watch and stood. “Time to go hit them streets, Isabel. You ready?”

  She dragged her bag from the bottom desk drawer. “Yup.” She followed him at a trot to the door. “Wait up. You’re going too fast.”

  “Need to get out of here before the Guv asks questions about my possibly extended lunch break.”

  “Is this Chief Super that bad?”

  “New bloke. We made a couple of discreet enquires at his last posting in the Met. He likes reorganising things or streamlining, as he puts it. The Guv doesn’t want to give him a reason to cut our department.”

  “You can get canned for having a messy desk?” Isabel shuddered. “I should quit now, save him the bother.”

  “Yup, you probably should,” he agreed. “Plus, he has a big bee in his bonnet about female police officers. So, my advice when he’s around is not to be, or duck and cover.”

  Isabel hid her disappointment. Some things never changed. She’d had to put up with that constantly in her old unit—women made the tea, looked pretty, held hands, didn’t do any real policing. She’d hoped that was behind her, but apparently not.

  “I don’t suppose there’s any point in me even offering you the car keys?” Zander waved them at her as he unlocked the car.

  She shook her head climbing into the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”

  “Told you. We have a meeting in town.” He started the car and drove rapidly, only getting caught at the lights on the bridge.

  Isabel looked out of the window. The view looked familiar. She pointed. “Isn’t that the pub down there?”

  “Yeah. Pub one side of the river, ten screen cinema the other. That’s the main line to London going over that viaduct.”

  “We’re not seeing an informant at all, are we?” She twisted in her seat to stare at him. He didn’t answer. So, she pushed it. “Look, you can tell me. I can keep a secret. After all, I didn’t tell anyone about Farrell for a long time.”

  The lights changed before Zander finally replied. “No, it’s not an informant. We’re having lunch with my mother.”

  She whistled. “Wow. Things must be serious between us. I’ve only known you a week and you’re taking me to meet your mother already.” She paused, waiting for a reaction.

  Zander laughed. “It’s complicated, all right? Just sit quiet and don’t ask about anything that comes up. Can you do that?”

  “I can sit at a separate table and hide behind a newspaper if you’d rather. I always fancied going undercover.” She looked back at the view of the river as they drove away. Something niggled at her. She just wasn’t sure what.

  “That’s not necessary.” He drove in silence, until they reached the car park just off the High Street. “Do you have any change?”

  She shook her head. “Farrell always used the parking app on his phone. It even sends a text to remind you when the parking expires. It’s called Parking Plus. Covers all the car parks for this borough.”

  Zander pulled out his phone and searched quickly. Within two minutes he’d downloaded, installed, and registered the app. “Now what?”

  Isabel showed him. “There. That’s us parked for an hour.”

  He smiled as he slid his phone back into his pocket. “Thank you. Not just a pretty face, are you?”

  She grimaced. She wasn’t even that but wouldn’t argue the point. “Welcome. Are you all right? You look really nervous. Not sick are you?”

  Zander jumped out of the car. “I’m fine. So’s Mum as far as I know. It’s just been a while since I’ve seen or spoken to her.”

  “How long?” she asked, wondering what kind of a man kept his family at arm’s length the way Zander seemed to do. First his grandfather, and now his mother.

  “Too long. It’s complicated.”

  He strode down the pavement so quickly that Isabel had to scurry to keep up with him. He reached the Three Sixteen Café and yanked open the door for her. She nodded her thanks and went inside.

  The place wasn’t that busy. Most people were eating lunch, aside from one couple sitting at a table by the far wall. They appeared deep in conversation. Was that a Bible on the table? What sort of a café was this?

  Zander waved to the barista. “Hey, Lia.”

  She came out from behind the bar. “Hey, Zander. Who’s this?”

  “This is my new partner. Isabel York, meet Lia Tanner. She was Miss Headley Cross a few years back.”

  Isabel shook her hand. “Tanner. Any relation to that bloke…?”

  “…on the radio,” Lia finished with a chuckle. “Yup. That’s my husband. What can I get you?”

  “We’re meeting someone,” Zander said. “They shouldn’t be long, so we’ll order then.”

  “Sure. I’ll send Brit over to take your order when you’re ready.”

  Zander headed to the empty table right at the back. Two of the four seats faced the window. He indicated the seat in the corner. “Figured we’d sit beside each other. Make it look as if we’re working.”

  “OK. This is a bit like those undercover scenarios you read about in training school. All I’m missing is a wire. Oh, and the legendary newspaper and flower in my buttonhole.”

  He snorted as he sat down. “Undercover work isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It can get you killed or almost killed. Just ask David Painter next time you see him.” He drummed his fingers on the table watching the entrance.

  After a couple of minutes, the café door opened.

  Zander’s face lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree. He leapt to his feet, and then strode across the room, arms outstretched. “Mum!”

  Isabel watched the mother and son reunion, jealously squeezing her arms tight over her chest. Her breathing constricted. Her own mother had died when she was eight. Since then she’d had no one. Just a long succession of group homes before being tossed to the wolves when she reached eighteen.

  A tall slender woman, looking very much like Zander, came over to her and held out a hand. “I’m Carrie, one of Zander’s sisters.”

  “Isabel, his partner. Work partner that is. The DI is having a crackdown, so Zander is calling this a working lunch.” She nodded to Zander who still hadn’t let go of his mother. “How long since he saw her last?”

  Carrie glanced over her shoulder. “Honestly? About e
ight years. Not since he moved up here. Hey, bro, put her down.”

  Zander led his mother over to the table, his eyes far too bright with barely repressed emotions. “Mum, this is Isabel York, my partner.” His voice, thick with emotion, trembled.

  Isabel held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Before Zander had a chance to sit next to Isabel, Carrie nicked his seat. He pulled the chair out for his mother and then sat beside her. He picked up the menus and glanced at Isabel.

  That one glance spoke volumes. “I think this meeting might drag on a bit,” she said, nonchalantly glancing at her watch. “If we’re not done by quarter past, I’ll let the Guv know we were unavoidably delayed.”

  Zander opened his mouth, probably to object, but she cut him off. “Meh, I’m in the doghouse today anyway. What’s a bit more trouble?”

  ~*~

  Isabel twisted sideways in her seat and studied Zander as they drove back to work just before two in the afternoon. “So?” she asked.

  “There’s no point me asking ‘so what’, is there?” He glanced at her and let out a long, deep breath. “You want to know why I haven’t seen my mother in eight years. That is a long story.”

  “Try me. You know I don’t have a family. I can’t imagine walking out on one.”

  “It’s complicated.” He chewed his lip and pulled up the handbrake as he reached a stop sign at a road junction, waiting for the road to clear before proceeding.

  Isabel didn’t drive, but even she knew the handbrake rule. “I can do complicated.”

  He sighed as he pulled away from the junction. “OK. The problem isn’t with Mum. It’s Dad. He’s never approved of me or anything I do. The icing on the cake was my faith and career choice. He wanted me to take over the family business. To work twenty-four-seven at it, with him, just as he’d done, his father had done, and grandfather had done. And so on. You get the picture. It was easier to just leave and never look back, rather than be belittled all the time. He never hit me, but words can cut just as deeply.”

  Isabel’s heart burned for him. No wonder he’d reacted as strongly to Farrell as he had done. He’d been there. “But to cut off all contact with everyone? That doesn’t seem fair to you or your mum.”