Tennison

by Lynda La Plante

  Aunt Claire’s mouth was wide open in shock and disgust.

  ‘Interesting, isn’t it?’ Jane said, smiling cynically.

  Uncle Brian laughed and did another silly salute before whisking his wife onto the dance floor.

  It was half an hour later when Pam returned wearing a smart suit and hat. She threw her bouquet over her shoulder, and the auburn-haired bridesmaid, who was by now very flushed and rather tipsy, caught it. With a sigh of relief Jane watched the ‘happy couple’ depart in a red MGB V8 Roadster, a ‘Just Married’ notice taped to the boot, along with old shoes and empty tin cans tied to the rear bumper, which bounced and rattled as the car pulled away backfiring. The MGB had been lent to them by Uncle Brian and was to be returned after the honeymoon was over, but Jane suspected it might not last out the trip to the Lake District and back.

  By the time Jane returned home with her parents it was after nine and she felt drained. She couldn’t wait to remove the salmon-pink nightmare dress and, after struggling out of the tight corset, she threw the dress on the floor and chucked her wilted coronet into the wicker bin. She lay on her bed in her underwear looking up at the ceiling. She realized that moving into the section house was definitely what she needed. She really didn’t want to live at home any longer. Now that she’d completed and returned the forms for a room it was time to broach the subject with her parents.

  She realized sadly that she had come to feel rather alienated from them. They had not approved of her joining the Metropolitan Police Force, although they had been proud at her passing-out parade at Hendon Police College. Her parents were always warm and loving and Jane knew she had nothing to complain about, certainly not when she thought of the squalor and neglect she had witnessed at the squat. She knew deep down her parents wanted her to be more like Pam, but the reality was that she and Pam were as different as chalk and cheese.

  Jane smiled to herself. She was proud to be a police officer and determined to make a career of it, but as yet she was unsure exactly what she wanted to do after her probation. Even though she was enjoying assisting the CID she knew there were many different branches of the force she could eventually apply for. Her sister had no ambition other than to get married and start a family. She had met Tony the carpenter only a year ago, started a whirlwind romance that led to engagement and, in Jane’s opinion, too soon a marriage. She sighed, at least the day was over and done with. She could not for a moment contemplate ever wanting an elaborate ceremony like that for herself. That is, when and if she found her Mr Right, but she felt there was more chance of finding him if she wasn’t living at home.

  There was a tap on the door. ‘Would you like some cheese on toast, dear?’ she heard her mother ask. ‘No thanks, I ate too much at the reception.’

  ‘Daddy and I are going to have a sherry. Would you like to join us?’

  ‘I’ll come out in a minute, I’m just changing.’ Jane sighed and got off the single bed she had slept on since she was a child. She looked around her bedroom with its Laura Ashley wallpaper and felt proud of the silver-framed photographs of her in uniform and the Met Police plaque on the dressing table. She lifted her dressing gown from the hook on the bedroom door, and feeling guilty about the crumpled bridesmaid dress on the floor picked it up and placed it on a hanger in her wardrobe.

  Her parents were sitting on high stools at the breakfast bar listening to soft jazz music on the radio. They were both eating cheese on toast and sipping sherry from small crystal schooner glasses.

  ‘Hi, you must both be tired out,’ Jane remarked.

  Her mother gave a little shrug and sighed. ‘We’ve been going over the entire day . . . it was so wonderful and everything went according to plan, didn’t it, dear?’ she said, looking at her husband for confirmation.

  ‘Fabulous day, apart from your Uncle Brian and his munchkin wife going on and on about their precious Barbara being an air hostess. Even though she’s allegedly lost weight I bet she still has to squeeze between the aisles.’

  Jane laughed but her mother frowned and ignored his remark.

  ‘Pam looked so beautiful, so happy and radiant. Tony’s a very nice young man. At first I was worried they might have rushed things, but I think he will make a good husband and he’s a carpenter so he’s good with his hands – he’ll work wonders on their lovely little flat, won’t he, Daddy?’

  Mr Tennison nodded, downed his sherry then slapped the base of the bottle of Lea & Perrins making sauce splash out over his toasted cheese. Jane noticed that her mother’s cheeks were flushed and she wondered if after the champagne at the reception, and now the sherry, she was a little drunk.

  ‘I’ve been thinking, the bridesmaid dresses cost so much that what you should do is get the dressmaker to cut down the neck, remove the puffs and shorten the length, then you’d have a beautiful cocktail frock. Pam was going to have her wedding gown made into one, but then she said she was going to keep it in the box so that when she has a baby it can be made into a lovely christening gown.’

  Jane remembered Kath Morgan’s remark. ‘Oh my God, she’s pregnant!’ she exclaimed in surprise.

  ‘Good heavens, no she is not. Whatever made you think that?’ her shocked mother asked.

  Jane shrugged and said nothing, though she wondered if it was true and Pam had kept quiet about it.

  Her mother continued, ‘She wants to start a family right away and I for one think it’s a lovely idea. I never had a big white wedding.’

  ‘What?’ Jane interrupted, wondering what her mother was inferring.

  ‘It’s not what you think. My parents couldn’t afford a big do, and don’t forget the war wasn’t long over. Daddy and I have always saved in a special account for your and Pam’s weddings.’

  ‘She’ll have to get a boyfriend first, sweetheart. Am I right, Jane?’ he said with a wink.

  Jane hesitated and drew one of the stools out from beneath the breakfast counter.

  ‘I need to discuss something with you,’ she said quietly and was about to explain about moving out when her father pointed to the radio.

  ‘Bloody hell, there’s more on the news about that Lord Lambton scandal.’

  ‘Dad, I really need to—’ Jane started to say but he wasn’t listening.

  ‘He’s a junior Defence minister. Apparently the News of the World somehow got hold of photographs of him in bed with two prostitutes whilst smoking marijuana,’ he said.

  ‘You’d think a Tory minister would behave better,’ his wife added as she turned up the volume slightly.

  ‘Blimey, he’s admitted it was him in the compromising photographs,’ Mr Tennison said as he moved closer to the radio.

  Lord Lambton has admitted his indiscretions to the Prime Minister Edward Heath and stated he was not blackmailed – nor was there a threat to national security. However, in light of the criminal charges brought against him by the police for possession of drugs Lord Lambton has tendered his resignation, which Mr Heath accepted with immediate effect. In other breaking news George Jellicoe, Lord Privy Seal and Leader of the House of Lords, has admitted ‘some casual affairs’ with call girls and also resigned. The Prime Minister has ordered an inquiry by the Security Commission into the activities of both Lord Lambton and Jellicoe, which will be chaired by Lord Diplock.

  Mr Tennison clapped his hands, applauding the actions of the Prime Minister. ‘Christ, it seems the only one in the government who wasn’t paying for sex was Ted Heath himself.’

  ‘What gets into those men: lovely wives, nice houses, and they go with prostitutes. It just beggars belief,’ Jane’s mother said, shaking her head. ‘I worry myself sick about you, Jane. Every time you leave the house in your uniform I am on pins until you come home. It’s all drugs nowadays, I mean if high society and our politicians are using drugs, whatever next? It’s a terrible world.’

  ‘I’ve applied for—’

  ‘I don’t care what you’ve applied for, Jane . . . What with you travelling on the Tube and bus every day, y
ou only need one crazy person to see your uniform and you’re an easy target for God knows what.’

  Jane stood up and lingered beside her father as he turned the radio off. Her mother put her plate and glass on the draining board saying she would do the washing up in the morning. She kissed Jane goodnight and went to her bedroom.

  Mr Tennison, a tall angular man with fine artistic hands and a chiselled handsome face, put his arm around Jane. ‘Pay no attention, sweetheart, your mum’s just being over-protective. We’re both proud of you and I am damn sure you’d never take foolhardy risks. All she really wants is for you to find a nice fella, settle down and have kids.’

  ‘Dad, with the wedding preparations in full swing I didn’t tell you something and I wanted to wait until I knew for sure I had a place.’

  He looked somewhat confused. ‘Are you leaving the police?’

  ‘No.’ She paused and took a deep breath. ‘I’m leaving home. I have made a decision to move into the section house. It’s Met accommodation for single officers. It’s in Hackney so it will be more convenient for work.’

  He looked surprised but remained calm. ‘Well, you’ve always paid Mother a bit of rent, which she’s really appreciated, but this is a very big move on your part, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s cost-effective, the rent’s cheap, they have a canteen. Rooms are quite small and the bathrooms are communal, but there’s a games room and two TV rooms. I think it will be good for me to mix more closely with other young single officers. The male and female residents are on different floors, there are strict rules and it’s run by a no-nonsense sergeant.’

  ‘You’ve thought it all out, haven’t you?’ he said bluntly, taking the last bite of his toasted cheese before dropping his plate in the sink.

  ‘Of course I have, Dad, it’s my life. I want to have a successful career and I need to stand on my own two feet.’

  He turned on the hot-water tap and squirted washing-up liquid into the bowl.

  ‘You are and always have been what I call the “quiet one”, excelled at athletics, high-grade O and A levels, but I was surprised when you said you wanted to join the police force. Admittedly it’s not something I would have encouraged, but when you don’t get your own way you can be a right little madam. I want to show you something.’

  He wiped his hands on a tea towel, went into the hall where his morning-suit jacket hung on the coat rack and took out his wallet.

  He returned to the room, opened up the worn leather wallet and produced a small black-and-white photograph which he handed to Jane.

  ‘I took that picture in the local park with my Brownie Box camera. Your sister would have been about three, you seven. Pam was on the swing and I wanted you to stand beside her, but you insisted on sitting on the swing and she stood beside you screaming blue murder but you wouldn’t budge. Look at the expression on your face, that little satisfied smile because you got your own way.’

  Jane looked at the little photo, which she’d never seen until now, and then passed it back, struck by how carefully he replaced it in his wallet.

  ‘When are you moving out?’

  ‘I’d like to go this week if possible. I don’t want to upset Mum but—’

  ‘Let me tell your mother and ease the way – you know what she’s like, but you also know you have a room here with us whenever you want or need it.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad. There are payphones at the section house and of course I’ll visit on my days off.’

  She would have liked to kiss him, but they had never been very tactile: he had always seemed to hold back from showing her and Pam too much affection. Deep down Jane understood why, but it was a subject no one in the family ever discussed.

  ‘I’ll wash the dishes – you get off to bed,’ she said.

  ‘All right then . . . goodnight, love.’

  Jane noticed he had left his wallet on the breakfast bar. She picked it up intending to return it to his jacket but opened it to have another look at the photograph of her and Pam. There was another black-and-white photo tucked behind it, creased and worn, not of her or Pam, but of Michael her brother who had had lovely blond hair and blue eyes. Jane was the firstborn, then Michael was born a year later, and the tiny photo showed the gorgeous little boy aged two laughing. Tragically, not long after the photograph was taken, he had fallen into a neighbour’s back-garden pond and drowned. Shortly after his death they had moved to the flat they now lived in and then Pam was born.

  Jane had been too young to have any tangible memories of Michael, but there were other pictures of him around the flat. The shadow left by his death was a sad, almost secretive pain her parents shared between themselves, but it was also the reason her mother was emotionally fragile and her dear father so guarded.

  Jane finished washing the dishes, went to her bedroom and felt comfort in knowing that she would always have this safe protected place to return to if she ever needed it. She wondered how big the storage space in the section house would be and how many of her clothes and personal belongings she should take with her; pillows, blankets and clean bed sheets were provided. She’d just reached out to get her notebook and pen so she could make a list when the doorbell rang.

  Jane was puzzled as to who it could be as it was now nearly midnight. The bell rang again and as she went into the hallway she saw her mother in her dressing gown, her hair in rollers and a flustered expression on her face.

  ‘Oh my, I hope your sister’s not had an argument with Tony already and come home.’

  Jane tightened her old dressing-gown belt and didn’t say anything, but knowing Pam, what her mother said did make sense. She unhooked the safety chain and opening the door was shocked to see DCI Bradfield.

  ‘Sorry to get you up so late but I need to speak with you in private.’

  Jane was nervous. ‘Have I done something wrong?’

  ‘No, no, not at all.’

  She could see his eyes were slightly glazed and thought at first it was because he was so tired, but the smell of alcohol made it obvious he’d been drinking.

  ‘Who is it, dear?’ she heard her mother call.

  ‘It’s for me, Mum, someone from work and nothing for you to worry about.’

  Bradfield stepped back from the door. ‘Sorry, I thought you lived on your own. I didn’t mean to wake the family . . . It can wait till morning.’

  Jane was intrigued and there was no way she could contain her curiosity until the following morning. She opened the door further.

  ‘Please come in.’

  Bradfield followed Jane into the living area. ‘To be honest I hadn’t noticed you were not at the station today until I asked where you were. I got the address from your file.’

  She was a little annoyed that he had not even noticed she wasn’t at work.

  ‘I did tell DS Gibbs I had a day off for my sister’s wedding and he said he’d inform you.’

  ‘Oh right, well after the day he’s had and under the circumstances it’s understandable he forgot.’

  Jane wondered what he meant, but didn’t want to ask.

  ‘Can I make you a coffee?’

  ‘No, this won’t take long.’

  Mrs Tennison appeared and Jane introduced her to Bradfield. Of the two her mother was the more embarrassed, touching her rollers and apologizing for her and Jane’s appearance.

  ‘You’ll have to excuse us but we’ve had a very big day and my husband is snoring away already. Jane’s sister got married and she was a bridesmaid.’

  ‘It’s all right, Mother, DCI Bradfield wants to talk to me about something important that’s work-related so you can go back to bed now.’

  ‘Oh, if you’d like a sherry we have a very nice bottle already open on the breakfast counter, or maybe you’d prefer a whisky?’

  Bradfield smiled politely. ‘No thank you, Mrs Tennison, this is just a quick call. You have no doubt had a wonderful but long and tiring day, so I apologize for the intrusion.’

  Mrs Tennison smiled and touched he
r rollers again. ‘Not at all, it’s a pleasure to meet one of Jane’s fellow-constables . . . in fact you’re the first from her station.’

  Jane blushed. ‘A DCI is a very senior detective rank, Mum, way above a uniform constable.’

  ‘Really, you should have seen Jane today, she looked beautiful in her bridesmaid dress with—’

  ‘Goodnight, Mother,’ Jane said firmly through gritted teeth.

  ‘I’m going, I’m going, but please do come for lunch one Sunday . . . I always do a roast with all the trimmings and you would be most welcome.’

  He gave a lovely shy smile and said he would be delighted to accept her invitation one weekend. Jane sighed with relief as her mother finally left the room.

  Bradfield sat on the floral-covered sofa and Jane in the wing chair her father always used. He got out a pack of cigarettes, put one in his mouth, flicked open his silver Zippo lighter and was about to strike the flint wheel when he hesitated, gesturing to ask if it was all right to light up.

  ‘Please do, I’ll fetch an ashtray.’

  She placed it on the arm of the sofa and he flicked his ash into it.

  ‘There’s something about you that’s different: your teeth look really nice and shiny white.’ He paused as he looked at her. She felt annoyed, closed her lips and wondered what he was inferring.

  ‘It’s make-up, you’re wearing make-up, right?’

  Jane nodded and then shrugged and swung her hair away from her face.

  ‘Chief bridesmaid, so I had to look my best.’

  ‘Right, right, I understand,’ he said.

  Jane could contain herself no longer. ‘Can I ask why you are here, sir? Is it something to do with DS Gibbs?’

  ‘Sadly it is, yes.’

  ‘Is he OK?’ Jane asked, worried that something bad had happened to him.

  ‘Yeah, he’s fine physically – I’ve just left him after we had a few beers. I wasn’t going to speak with you until morning, but I thought it would be best to do it in private, away from all the prying eyes and ears at the station.’