by Ted Tayler
“It was her first time. I had been ‘out’ for a few years. We hit it off straight away. We planned to move in together; it felt right, you know?” Freya leant forward, with her arms crossed holding her sides, as if her stomach hurt. “I fall asleep at night, just holding the pillow she slept on, crying into it. I haven’t washed it yet; I can still remember her perfume if I try hard.”
“I miss her too Freya,” said Zara, “she was a good friend. If you ever want to talk, just ring me,”
“Cheers,” said Freya, “I’ll do that; you’re OK, Zara.” Freya leant across the table, awkwardly and held Zara for a second, kissing her on the cheek.
When they went their separate ways later that evening, they promised to keep in touch. Zara hadn’t heard from Freya so far, but then she hadn’t rung either.
When Phil Hounsell arrived home after the murder, Erica was waiting to console him. She knew he would be hurting after losing one of his officers; they always closed ranks and pulled together when such a tragedy hit the force. She had kept up to date with the breaking story on the TV. As many thousands of others did in the region.
“Hello, darling; you must have had a terrible day. I’m so sorry,” she said, throwing her arms around her husband and holding him tight.
He had laid his head on her shoulder and said little except, “So am I, darling; so am I.”
In the Hounsell household, the days leading up to the funeral were predictably solemn. Erica didn’t want the kids to be under Phil’s feet when he came home at night, so she packed them off to bed early. On Saturday morning, she left him to brood while she went shopping and then she spent the afternoon lazing in the garden, watching the kids play. Phil finally wandered out to sit in the sun with them for an hour at four o’clock.
“Did you realise that Angela Chambers was gay?” asked Erica. She had discovered this from Zara earlier in the week when she rang her to see if she could babysit the kids on Saturday night. Zara said she was unavailable. Erica was convinced Zara was free but didn’t want to come over. Zara had changed the subject and rambled on about being worried about Angela’s new girlfriend. She wondered how she was coping.
“I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I couldn’t spot the clues,” Phil had replied, abruptly, “she and Zara were friendly.”
Erica had looked at her husband. He must think I dropped in with the last shower, she thought. Zara wasn’t cut from the same cloth as this Angela Chambers. He knew that, so why would he suggest the two of them may have been more than friends?
She wasn’t averse to some detective work herself. When Phil came home the day of the murder, her intuition told her something felt wrong. Why did he arrange an overnight stay in Bristol, to be present at the Crown Court for that case? That had sounded strange at the time. He could have been home for forty minutes if not sooner.
Erica had seen Phil in the bedroom that night when he stripped off his shirt. It was only a small scratch, on his back, just below his shoulder-blade; but he tried to keep turned away from her, so she didn’t see it.
Erica put two and two together. Phil was trying to steer her away from Zara as a threat. Zara was keeping her distance from them, yet ever since she moved south she had been a close family friend.
The funeral had come and gone; the atmosphere remained. Zara kept herself to herself. Phil was throwing himself into his work and getting home late. The kids didn’t appear to notice, and the weekends had been bearable for Erica. The kids enjoyed the days out that Phil insisted they went on.
Erica visited her mother every day; whether Mary Trueman knew she was there or not. It kept her away from the simmering tension at home. As August began, just as the weather often behaves during that month, the pressure rose; there was a gathering storm. Sooner or later that storm had to break.
The violence in Bristol started in the early hours of the morning of the ninth of August. Masked gangs of youths threw bricks in the streets and set cars and bins alight. The aftermath of the trouble was visible in the morning as fire crews still worked to make the area safe. Smashed glass, fragments of bricks and charred rubbish littered the streets.
Police had to counter the rioters rampaging through the city as one hundred and fifty young rioters caused disruption. When Phil Hounsell and Zara Wheeler arrived at work later that morning they were brought up to speed at once by the ACC.
“This began in London, at the weekend. I don’t know the rights or wrongs of that incident, but it proved to be a flashpoint that sparked trouble across the country. I can understand peoples’ frustrations with what's going on in the country. Peaceful protest is one thing. This is different. We warned the public to stay out of the city centre last night as our fellow officers tried to bring the situation under control. Shops and vehicles have been damaged. In Cabot Circus and out in the suburbs shops were looted. We prayed that this disorder did not come to Bristol. Plenty of units are on duty ready to respond if required. The primary concern is to keep people safe and minimise disruption to residents, motorists, and local businesses. Our duty to the wider community is to do everything we can to calm things down, restore order and prevent criminality. Our resources here are on standby to help wherever we are needed. I’m sure you will understand the need to follow the popular mantra - Keep Calm and Carry On."
After the update and the pep talk, Phil Hounsell and his team returned to their offices. Other cases needed investigating. The ram-raiders had struck again. Two more jewellers were replacing plate-glass windows and trays of stock worth tens of thousands. The gang travelled via the motorway network from London or the Midlands and picked off targets like shooting fish in a barrel.
“If we can spare someone.” said Phil with a laugh, “we could trawl through CCTV images to see if the same vehicles travelled on the M4 or M5 either side of the raids.”
“They might just as easily be from South Wales,” said Zara Wheeler, “or even Manchester.”
“Let’s try to keep positive shall we, team?” said Phil. He was conscious of the fact that Zara’s demeanour had been muted since Angela’s murder; although he used that event as his datum point rather than accept that his reaction to the night they spent together was the real reason behind her negative nature. Things had still not been resolved between them on that score.
As he sat at his desk, late in the afternoon, he wondered whether to drop in on Zara on his way home tonight. To clear the air. His phone rang. It was not good news. The CPS had decided that it was not in the public interest to appeal the verdict given by Judge Erskine-Mathers in the Kelly family slavery case.
“Terrific,” thought Phil after putting the phone back, “latest score in the football; the Villains one, the Blues nil. Just the same as being on the terraces at St. Andrews; nothing changes.
He looked at the calendar. “Not worth the effort now, they’ll be out in a month.”
With a heavy heart, he picked up a stack of files and worked his way through them. It would be a late one tonight that was for sure. Relations at home remained frosty; he was happier being here working. Even if few positives were to be found.
In Bath, Erica Hounsell was on a mission. She dropped the kids off at a friend’s house for tea and headed towards her mother’s house. She hoped to arrive before Zara got home. Erica and Phil both had keys so they could come and go as they pleased.
Since Zara rented the place alone, after her mum went into the home, paying visits without warning had never been required. But Erica wanted to get to the bottom of that scratch. She needed to know what happened the night before Angela Chambers’s murder.
She had her suspicions. When Zara walked into the room, to find her sat there waiting, she was confident that her face would give her the proof she needed. The drive was empty when she stopped opposite the house. Erica turned the car around in the driveway and parked a hundred yards back up the road. Minutes later she sat indoors, in familiar surroundings, with a cup of coffee in her hands. She was being scrutinised by two cats. She waited.
Thirty minutes later, she heard the sound of a car on the drive.
The door opened, and Zara Wheeler walked into the lounge.
“Hello Zara,” said Erica.
Zara’s face betrayed her, just as Erica had imagined. She blushed profusely; she was unable to look Erica directly in the eye and the tears were only seconds away.
“I’m so sorry Erica,” was the best she could manage.
“How long has it been going on?”
“It hasn’t. I mean, it was one drunken night. That’s no excuse but, there was never anything before or since. There never will be. Phil thinks it was a stupid mistake.”
“What about you Zara? What do you think? Was it a mistake?
Zara slumped in a chair; she was torn. No way had it been a mistake! It was what she’d dreamed of almost since the day they’d met. What did she think? She thought that Phil had decided he needed to behave as if they hardly knew one another. To stay totally professional. Rather than confront the feelings he showed her that night. Neither of them faked it that was for sure.
“We were both drunk Erica; we both made a mistake.”
Erica finished her coffee; she walked through to the kitchen. Zara followed her.
“What are you going to do now, Erica?” she asked.
The front door opened. Zara turned back into the lounge to see Phil Hounsell in the doorway, holding a large bottle of wine.
“We need to talk,” he said.
Erica opened the kitchen door wider so that Phil saw she was there. His face was a picture.
“I’ll bring us three glasses, shall I?” she asked.
CHAPTER 13
Wednesday, May 2nd, 2012
Zara Wheeler had enjoyed another great weekend. On the twenty-first of April, she accompanied Toby Drysdale on another platonic day out. It marked the twenty-fifth anniversary of the old Roman city gaining World Heritage Site status.
The weekend just gone had been a feast of rugby. Toby and Zara watched an Under-20s match on Friday night. Two matches contested by Medics from various parts of the country on Saturday and Sunday was the mini-rugby festival. Not the greatest rugby for Toby to enjoy, but terrific fun and the clubhouse bar was open, so it made for a good weekend.
Monday and Tuesday hadn’t been great. Zara suffered the effects of the alcoholic weekend, but by Wednesday morning, she felt ‘chipper’ again. She was certainly getting around the force’s patch of late. She was in Yeovil. Zara and several of her colleagues had been sent to make sure that everything on this leg of the Diamond Jubilee Tour went as smooth as silk.
Hundreds of people turned out to cheer the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh as they arrived in Yeovil. The last time they visited Somerset was ten years before to mark the Golden Jubilee. The royal couple had earlier toured stalls at the Jubilee Country Fayre and while Zara watched, the Queen presented official name tags to two police horses. Harry Patch and Jubilee were on their best behaviour.
Zara watched ten minutes later as the royal couple, now safe inside in their car drove serenely away towards Crewkerne. They would soon reach the Town Hall where they became someone else’s problem. Zara was heading back to Portishead. Then she wanted to get home and put her feet up. There was far too much standing around on these Royal tour duties for her liking.
As she joined her colleagues to climb aboard the transport taking them back to Portishead, Zara reflected on the past nine months. That large bottle of wine that Phil brought hadn’t been big enough. They sat in Mary Trueman’s lounge and the whole sad story came spilling out.
Erica soon accepted that Zara had told the truth regarding the one-night stand. Both women were in no doubt that Phil was desperate to save his marriage. Phil and Zara could see that Erica would make him work bloody hard for it. After her second big glass of wine, Zara could tell she needed to fetch fresh supplies from the fridge.
It had been a long night. The aftermath proved oddly calm. Erica and Phil started the reconstruction of their marriage. So far, everything appeared to be going well.
Zara and Phil saw each other at work from time to time. Duties kept them apart as often as not, by his design as opposed to by accident. When they got thrown together, then their relationship was fragile, but so far it remained intact.
Zara had imagined she would be asked to find a new home. But Erica rang her a week or two after that emotional night to say she could stay as long as she wished. She could continue to rent her mum’s place, but if she wanted to make an offer, they agreed to sell it to her.
Mary Trueman would never return there to live, and the money could be needed to finance her care. Zara decided that at her age, with her salary and her ambition that the time had come to put down roots.
For the past six weeks, she had been a homeowner, with a mortgage. She felt more of a grown-up, but she was still single and still searching for that special person with whom to share her life. What she had to look forward to tonight, as the coach passed the turning to Weston, was feeding the cats, a quiche, and salad with a bottle of wine. Then she would be reading up on the extra duties she was destined to be policing for the Olympics.
Less than three weeks later everyone was back on the buses. They were off to Taunton, Yeovil, Glastonbury, Frome, and several smaller towns en route; before the Torch Relay disappeared into Wiltshire. A brief respite then back to their own patch. At least, it was someone else’s job to follow it through Bath and on to Bristol.
Zara and her colleagues saw Will.i.am in Taunton. One of the young DC’s who had been at the Crown Court in Bristol told her who he was. Zara was none the wiser. It had been an early start, the relay got underway just after six o’clock. It was going to be a long day.
Zara hadn’t enjoyed working so much for ages. The weather was gorgeous, the crowds huge and well-behaved, and there wasn’t a hint of trouble. They returned tired but happy to Portishead, just after three o’clock.
The next team of officers was just leaving; to head into Bath on the bus to receive the runners back into the county from Bradford-on-Avon. Zara had finished for the day, so she drove back towards the city. The traffic was horrendous. Every car park full. She got home, parked the car, and caught a bus into the centre.
She spotted Jason Gardener in Milsom Street and cut through the crowded streets to watch the runner in the Royal Crescent, where she was only a month ago with Toby. The blue skies and the Bath stone looked exquisite. For Zara, it seemed the end of a perfect day.
Phil Hounsell hadn’t been with either of the teams today. He had been at Portishead with senior officers putting contingency plans together for the impact of the Olympics on the force area. Making sure they could respond if any disturbances occurred; over-enthusiastic drinkers, flare-ups at the large open spaces that planned to have giant screens transmitting the big events. Another item on the list was the itinerary for the Queen’s visit to Bristol in November.
After a warm day cooped up in the office, Phil got home early; something he did much more often since last August. Erica and the children were ready to go into town.
“Daddy,” shouted Tracey, “are you coming?”
“Yes, darling,” said Phil, “we’re off to see the Torch Relay.”
Phil and Shaun, Erica and Tracey, walked into Victoria Park and headed towards the noise. The streets in the centre were full of people. People hung out of office windows on the upper floors. Balloons and bunting on view everywhere. Not a frown to be seen. Everyone had a smile on their face. It was catching. Erica and Phil watched the procession as it came by them, wrapped together in a warm embrace. Shaun and Tracey clung to their parents for dear life. It was scary, but fun.
“There’s Auntie Zara,” screamed Tracey.
Shaun and Tracey called out to Zara who was just over the road, on the opposite side of Milsom Street. No way she could hear their little voices above the clamour.
“How has she been?” Erica asked Phil.
“I can’t remember the last time we talked i
n all honesty,” he replied. “We’ve been scattered around the County of Somerset with the extra duties this summer.”
Erica watched until Zara disappeared into the crowds.
“Oh, that reminds me,” said Phil. “Callum rang this morning. Debbie’s expecting.”
“Oh, that’s fantastic news, Phil,” cried Erica, “we must get a card to send them on our way home.”
Callum and Debbie Wood, Erica thought, now there was a pair of lovebirds. Who thought they would ever get together?
She thought of the spectacle they just watched. If only Zara Wheeler found someone. Live together, get married, whatever. Just to remove that niggling doubt. It was still there, deep inside her, that even though Phil was back on the straight and narrow now, Zara might still carry a torch for him. What was it with bloody torches?
Most of the late spring and early summer consisted of dodging the showers or longer outbreaks of rain. True to form then, the Queen’s Jubilee weekend saw frequent downpours.
A lot of her colleagues were on duty, but Zara Wheeler braved the rain with Toby Drysdale in Victoria Park on Tuesday, June 5th. To celebrate the Diamond Jubilee, a major celebration was being staged there. A stage with two giant screens had been set up at the bottom of the natural gradient in the park. It allowed the public to picnic and watch the Jubilee celebrations in London.
While Zara and Toby ‘strutted their stuff’, Phil, Erica, and the kids were returning from Weston-Super-Mare. They had spent the weekend there, enjoying the events in the Winter Gardens. The kids loved the live music, the bouncy castle, the face-painting, and games. The wind and rain took the edge of the excitement for Phil and Erica, but the kids loved it.
When Zara returned to work, there were no happy, smiling faces in the office. In part due to the weather; there wasn’t to be much respite from the lousy summer weather. On top of that, a growing list of internal problems mounted for their police service. The handling of a death in custody in the south of the county led to accusations of corruption. Another incident saw a coloured man arrested and charged with offences, including possession of an offensive weapon and threats to kill. Although he himself had likely been the victim of a racial assault by an unruly mob of white neighbours if truth be told.
