by Pete Adams
Jack’s phone rang, ‘Jonty?’ Jack asked, waving the phone.
‘Yes, Jane, you may.’
Jack gave the phone to Len who answered it for him. Jack took the call. There were two minutes while Jack spoke animatedly, even stood at one time, shouted the name “Barney” and “Feck the Teasmade” and “Worm” sat down, stood again, and Pugwash spluttered and protested.
The Commissioner lost it, ‘Sit down, Captain.’ The irony Jack was standing without being chastised was not lost on Pugwash. Jack did eventually sit and continued his phone conversation while the Commissioner berated the captain, ‘We have been made aware there is something important happening, and I do not refer to this tribunal.’ Pugwash demoralised and bemused, looked to the ugly sisters, but they were no help, trying to melt in to the background, impossible; they were the background.
Jack finished and Len cancelled the call for him. Pugwash was up, ‘Sir, I want my objection formally noted.’
The commissioner had still to mellow, ‘Should I formally note your error with the Inspector’s name?’ The chortling of the spectators was mixed with a tinkling, like breaking glass. Jack had a text, and handed the phone to Len, and told him what to write in reply. That sent, Jack looked up to the front desk, a thumb up. Len switched the phone off, was tempted with a thumb, and chastised himself for coming under the Austin influence.
The Commissioner addressed the tribunal, ‘We have read through both sets of papers and have the following comments. Len if you could hold your horses.’ Len nodded, curious as to what was happening. The Commissioner continued, ‘Captain, in your submission and presentation, you have not produced evidence the Inspector was the anonymous source for the newspaper article, and so, I am compelled to dismiss those allegations. I move on to the offence of insubordination to a senior officer.’ Pugwash was not slow to show his indignation, but was put off objecting, ‘Captain,’ the commissioner asked, ‘can you identify the senior officer please?’ Len smiled, this was one of his. Pugwash stood, ‘No need to stand Captain, unless you are planning to leave,’ rumbles of laughter.
‘Sir, I am not happy the way this tribunal is being run.’ Pugwash expounded.
‘Then make your complaints through the proper channels, we will assist you with our names, in the meantime, answer the question, who is the senior officer the Inspector is alleged to have been insubordinate to?’
‘Me sir,’ Pugwash stood to attention, felt the creases in his trousers, reassured, they were razor sharp.
‘You, sir?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
The Commissioner made a show of looking through the papers, and in an audible whisper, ‘I can’t see where it says the captain is a senior police officer, Chairman of the Community Policing Committee, but that is all.’ He looked up to Pugwash, ‘Captain are you a police officer?’ Pugwash made to stand, ‘No need to answer, we know you’re not. We do not consider the reports you sent to us in any way substantiates a claim for insubordination, and so we dismiss this charge. However, you have a case for common assault. The Inspector admits this, but says you barged in aggressively on a minute-silence for a murdered colleague.’ A sense of shock from the gallery. ‘Your rights are clear if you wish to take this to the courts of law, but I tell you we will put up every officer I know against you, so, do you want to take this on?’
‘No, sir.’
The Commissioner seemed satisfied, ‘Okay, I understand that whilst we have been wasting our time here, the Inspector and the Superintendent have been doing their job; developments in the conspiracy case that has been prominent in both the local and national news. I am sure we will hear of this later, correct Inspector?’ Jack nodded. The Commissioner looked at his fellow adjudicators and whispered, but it was clear they all agreed. ‘It is the decision of this tribunal there are no grounds to substantiate the charges made and they are all dismissed. The Inspector may leave without a stain on his character.’ There was polite applause, but the Commissioner put his hand up for quiet. ‘We have looked into the background of the past few years and find that Inspector Austin has been treated unfairly by the Community Police Committee, and we reinstate him to the rank of Detective Chief Inspector with immediate effect.’
He allowed the assembly to absorb the news, raised his hand again, ‘I would like to add my personal congratulations to the Chief Inspector and to say also...’ he looked pointedly at Pugwash, ‘...the police force is not a place for politically ambitious laymen. It is a serious business, and at times, dangerous, as we have recently seen. We should be grateful to officers such as the Chief Inspector and the Superintendent, and we should not allow them to be used as political footballs for short-term political gain. This tribunal is closed.’
The committee room rose and there was great excitement, but Jack just sat, laid back in his chair, feet stretched out in front of him. The Commissioner approached, ‘You have some very good friends Jane, please try not to make it too hard to help you, what do you say?’
He stood slowly, ‘Nuff said, sir,’ shook the Commissioner’s hand, put his other hand on top of Jonty’s wrist and they exchanged a look; Mandy had seen this before.
‘You look exhausted.’
‘I am completely shagged, sir, but Mandy and I have to go back to the Nick for a couple of hours, and then I shall be getting inordinately pissed with my friends at C&A’s. You are welcome to join us, but I feel it only fair to warn you, I shall be plotting the downfall of the government.’
The Commissioner let his head roll back and guffawed, ‘Knowing you Jack, you will succeed as well. I had a little whisper you will be awarded the GM and the Queen has apparently asked if you could try not to swear when you are with her this time.’ Len and Mandy looked aghast, the Commissioner winked and shook all of their hands. ‘Good defence papers, nicely handled Len,’ and he left.
The room had emptied, except for Bernie. Pugwash had slunk away with his obese entourage, the room was noticeably lighter. ‘Bernie, you are a revolting man, see you at C&A’s tonight?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world, can I have a quote?’
‘An anonymous one?’
Mandy put her arm part way round Jack’s waist and they walked. Colin was in the corridor, ‘Back door?’
‘Yes please.’
Len declined the party invite, ‘I’m meeting friends at the Tate Modern.’
Jack, subdued, nodded approval, ‘I like it there, and thank you, Len.’
The team sensed a breakthrough and put Jack’s jaundiced reaction down to the fact he looked exhausted. He shuffled off to join Mandy in her office, Jo-Jums and Paolo followed, and settled on the psychological chairs, while Jack took the PVC chair; the tree swayed hypnotically in a gentle breeze. Mandy took charge, ‘What do you have, Paolo, Jo?’
‘Coughed, Ma’am; we need to charge and dig more.’
‘Paolo?’
‘I agree, Worm and the Leader were middle men, we need to get what we can and see where it leads.’
Mandy dismissed Paolo. ‘Jo, can you stay please.’
Paolo went to Jack, ‘I heard, congratulations,’ shook his hand and left.
‘Will miracles never cease?’ Mandy remarked, ‘Jo, did you hear Jack is back as DCI?’
‘I did.’ There was no need for words, it was written on her face.
‘I’m putting you up for Inspector, okay?’
‘Yes, Ma’am, I’d be pleased to accept.’
‘Finally, Jack and I are going to do the business on this desk,’ and she patted the desk top, ‘then a piss-up at C&A’s, so round up the usual suspects.’ Jo left.
‘Jack, are you all talk?’
‘What, the bit where I said I was bone-tired?’
Fifty-Three
It was one of those moments in every relationship, and Jack offered no manly defence. Hidden depths? Mandy dismissed that thought as ridiculous, ‘C’mon, let’s get you home.’
She drove and he slept, answered a call with the hands free, ‘Hi, Man
dy, he didn’t call, and his phone is off, how did it go?’
‘Sorry, Michael, scot free and back to DCI.’
‘What? Fantastic, is he there?’
She chanced a look, ‘In a manner of speaking.’
Michael had to shake his dad awake, then steer him to the front door where Colleen stood and waved. Mandy shrugged acknowledgement and allowed the engine to idle as she contemplated going back to her flat, a hint of despair as she pressed the accelerator; how did she feel about Liz and Carly? What was interesting was she forgot about Jack as her nerves increased about going home, for God’s sake, she was a modern woman, wasn’t she?
After parking the car in the basement garage she went up the lift and along the corridor, to the door of her flat; next dilemma. Should she ring the bell or use her key? She used her key but called out, ‘Only me.’
Liz popped out of the living room and kissed her mum, ‘How’d it go?’
On automatic, ‘Teflon Jack, scot free and promoted back to DCI, how does he do it?’
Carly joined them in the hallway. ‘He not with you?’
‘Fast asleep, big drink at C&A’s tonight, you’re both welcome,’ Mandy said.
Carly carried on, ‘Mandy, I know only what I’ve learned in the past few days, but has Jack not been through more traumas in the past week than most people have in a lifetime, and is this not a bit of good news?’ Mandy wondered if she did not have more questions than answers, and was going to say what the feck is it to do with you, but didn’t. ‘Can I ask why you look dejected, or do you feel left out?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Mum, Carly’s a psychiatrist.’
‘Oh, and I suppose you’re going to analyse me and my difficulty in dealing with my daughter being a lesbian.’
Carly responded in her understanding psychiatrist voice, ‘Yes, we should talk about that, but maybe a bath and a sleep would not go amiss?’
Mandy turned to Liz, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t explain what I feel. I have these crazy feelings about Jack, the ugly tow-rag, was hit on by a lesbian myself recently, and I want to say I am pleased for you, that I’m a modern woman and things like this are acceptable to me, as they are for colleagues and so on, but honestly, I’m having difficulty.’
Carly carried on, ‘Liz should have talked to you before but...’
Carly’s diatribe washed over Mandy, ‘You know what really pisses me off? Jack guessed, before I knew.’
Carly hemmed, ‘Deceptively, perceptive? I’ve not quite made up my mind. We have a bottle of wine and some nibbles, I can run you a bath and we can get a bit sloshed, then get really pissed at the pub tonight.’
Mandy sniffed, ‘Sounds like a plan, just need time, I suppose.’
‘Like Jack, getting over Kate?’
Feck me she speaks Mandy thought, ‘Touché,’ she replied, and went to the loo for a cry.
The taxi dropped Mandy off at Jack’s at a quarter to eight and carried on with Liz and Carly to C&A’s, another dilemma, should she open the door with her key or rap Kate’s knockers? She was saved the decision as Colleen swung it open and asked if she was coming in?
‘Is he up?’
‘Michael’s waking him, drink?’
‘Glass of red?’
‘Coming up,’ and Colleen trotted to the kitchen. Mandy followed with hunched shoulders and feelings. ‘Should be a good party, is he up for it, he looked all in when you dropped him off this afternoon.’ Colleen took in the look of Mandy, ‘What about you?’
‘Mixed up.’
She handed her the wine, ‘Jack, or Liz and Carly?
‘Both,’ quaffing; she was beyond sipping.
‘Worried Jack’s not over Kate, because Michael was concerned for when he was at the Crematorium, we’ve not seen you since.’
She looked over the top of her wine glass, ‘Jack was in a state, but how much was Kate or Biscuit, God knows?’
‘Time again, isn’t it?’
Mandy looked up, more animated, ‘Yes, but I let go, and now I’m floundering. I’m not used to feeling helpless.’
‘He’s in for a Tom and an Eiffel, Mandy, you look good.’
This lifted her spirits, like father like son, she thought. ‘Thought I’d dress up a bit,’ she gave Michael a twirl.
‘Top up?’
‘Please.’
‘To Teflon, Dad,’ they chinked their glasses and sat back on stools. Jack appeared after ten minutes, wet hair, suit and open neck shirt, looking refreshed, and Mandy had to admit, gorgeous, if you could get past the fat ugly bit. Mandy however, had not slept, felt knackered, and was way past tipsy.
She stood to greet him. ‘Haggly?’ he asked, kissed her, and with his hand on her backside she allowed herself to be pulled to him, her concerns melted, thinking I was the one worried about his non-performance and it’s as if it mattered not a jot to him. ‘Alright sweet’art, not worried about this afternoon?’ turned to Colleen and Michael, ‘Couldn’t get it up, a lot better now though.’
‘Jack! You’re embarrassing me.’
‘Shouldn’t I be embarrassed?’
‘I’ve never seen you embarrassed, is it possible?’ Colleen to the rescue.
‘Well, the first time Mandy farted in bed.’
Mandy sighed, ‘Shall we go?’
They walked to C&A’s. It wasn’t far, and the evening was mild if overcast. Mandy in a sleeveless dress, a shiny two tone blue, tiny cream knitted jacket, teetered on high heels. Jack raised his eyebrow, ‘Had a couple of wines, while Carly, who is a trick cyclist I might add, sorted my head out about Liz being Lesbian...’
He interrupted, ‘From the Isle of Lesbos.’
‘Yes, Jack, you had resisted that for a long time and I was grateful. Had a couple with Michael and Colleen as they tried to straighten my head out about you. So, all in all, I'm ready for a few more and you may need you to carry me home, are you up to it?’
Michael shouted back, having listened in, ‘We will carry you both home; you’ve earned this.’
‘He has, and for a man who can’t stand decorating, he's a list of decorations and about to get another, the George Medal, no less,’ and Mandy gave Jack a sloppy kiss in the middle of the road, frustrating a car that wanted to get by; the driver froze from the Mandy stare.
‘Dad, is this true?’
‘Apparently, now shut-up, Let’s have a drink.’
‘Mandy, will you go to the Palace with him?’ she detected a hint of panic, ‘Mum went last time and said she’d never been so embarrassed in her life.’
Jack explained, ‘The Queen farted in front of her, you know how Kate was when it was her turn.’ They all groaned, and Jack stopped by the pub door. ‘Let’s not talk about this tonight, eh, that is embarrassing.’
Michael shook his dad’s hand, ‘Get here, you bleedin’ eejit,’ and Jack hugged his son. ‘Funny, going in without Martin,’ Mandy looked at him, how much did he really miss Martin? Colleen opened the door and dragged Mandy in, Jack followed with an arm around the shoulders of his son.
Bruce greeted Mandy with a hug and a kiss, both cheeks, a bit continental for a big beery man Jack thought, shaking Bruce’s hand who held on and tugged him into the rear function room where he was greeted with an almighty roar, and the theme from Captain Pugwash, played by an Irish style band; squeeze box and fiddle player. ‘I’ve seen you embarrassed now Jack,’ Colleen shouted into his ear.
The band finished and Sitting Bull was standing in a clearing, a hushed expectancy,
‘Detective CHIEF Inspector Jane Austin,' a cheer, 'your colleagues and friends have gathered this evening to say thank you, for being you.’ More applause; Sitting Bull put his hand up. ‘There’s not much more to say except you are a real copper, and I'm right proud to call you colleague and friend.’ Mandy thought to herself, “real copper?” she was not so sure, but let it go and walked up and kissed him to a resounding, “Oooh err matron”.
That was it, and Jack grabbed the pint proffered by mein host Bruce
and he downed it in one to the sound of “Get them down, you Zulu warrior,” wiped his face, turned the glass upside down on his head, drops of beer came out, and he burped, ‘Beer shampoo.’
The band struck up with a jig and many people, not afraid to make fools of themselves, got up and pranced around like fools. Jack watched, Mandy slipped her arm into his, ‘Okay?’
‘I love you,’ he mouthed.
‘Me too,’ she sloshed back.
Fifty-Four
Coppers on a night off; the evening grew in intensity, laughter, dancing and drinking. Mandy's frequent kisses getting progressively wetter. Jack sang Underneath the Arches, the rugby version, to hoots of laughter, he finished, shouting, “Throw money, throw money,” apparently his dad’s, Uncle Peter, shouted that in the East End pubs.
Mandy seemed more relaxed with Liz and Carly, dancing and kissing, as was everyone comfortable with Frankie and Connie. For a bunch of pissed-up coppers, whose reputation to the public is not one of resounding tolerance, they took all of this in their stride. ‘Makes you proud, eh girl, we’ve come a long way,’ Jack said. The band struck up a reel and Mandy and Jack did their totally un-Irish, Irish dancing. Jack called it broken arm dancing and they reeled and swirled; Riverdance it wasn’t.
There was a hush, then silence as the musicians reacted. Pugwash stood beneath a spotlight, his piggy eyes looking demonic; a red glint. Jack strode to Pugwash and held out his hand. The Captain ignored the gesture, was about to say something when Jack interrupted, ‘You’re either mad or you’ve got balls, and I had you pegged for a girl,’ they stared; testiculating Mandy called it.
Blood boiled as Pugwash advanced out of the spotlight and closed on Jack, and through gritted teeth, finger prodding, ‘I’m not finished with you, Austin.’
The assembled party, aware of Jack’s berserking, readied themselves, but they needn’t have worried because Mandy wobbled in, blousy and ballsy, and inordinately pissed. ‘Threaten my man again and you’ll have to go through me, you mealy mouthed fucking arsehole.’ She was pushing and jabbing. Pugwash didn’t know how to react, or even if he understood the slurred words, but he was getting both Mandy barrels and her intent was clear. He shuffled backwards, struggling to keep his balance. ‘Fuck-off back to your tin pot boats and push your little sailor boys around. You’re not man enough to stand in the same room with my man. Jack Austin is more man than you could ever be, so, unless you want a pair of stilettos up your fucking anally retentive arse, you’d better fuck-off, now.’ She teetered, people shaped to catch her, but she held firm, ironically, steadied by her grip of Pugwash’s jacket.
