by Jason Ayres
She got no joy whatsoever from this, as the people being fined either gave her abuse there and then or went onto Facebook afterwards and moaned about it to the rest of the town. Only yesterday someone had posted a rant about being fined in which she was referred to as “that bloody policewoman.”
Attempting to alleviate such situations by saying things like “I’m just doing my job, sir” only made things worse.
As for Kent, he’d been in the police for over twenty years and had never had so much as a sniff of a murder mystery or anything that would get him some recognition in the upper echelons.
He had risen to the rank of D.I. more by attrition than any great talent. As the officers above him were promoted or left, he gradually managed to crawl up the ladder but it had been a slow, unexciting and ultimately disappointing climb.
In fact there was so little to do locally that he had heard rumours that the station was to be severely cut back to a skeleton staff. There would either be redundancies, or staff would be deployed elsewhere. Everything was being cut all the time, resources, staff and wages.
It wasn’t just in the police force but every other public sector, too. Successive governments claimed they had no money and had been banging on about austerity for years. It hadn’t stopped them spending billions on this massive new railway line, though, which most of the country didn’t seem to even want.
Kent had no doubt in his mind that he would be at the top of the shortlist for the chop if the axe were to fall. Up until now he had managed to avoid this by elaborating his reports to his superiors. The most mundane of crimes could be made out to be more of an event than it actually had been, but he knew that unless something major happened soon, cutbacks were inevitable.
He blamed TV for selling him an unrealistic dream of what being a detective was like. When he was growing up there were murders in Oxford, Cornwall, and all manner of other places every week on his TV. In his youthful dreams he had imagined himself as an incredibly sharp detective, solving murders with Sherlock Holmes-style logic and deduction, earning plaudits and respect everywhere he went.
Instead he’d found himself spending years issuing speeding tickets, sitting in a police van on a Friday night outside the pubs in case there were any punch-ups, and attending endless training courses to prepare him for scenarios that were never likely to happen.
There had been a few more serious crimes in the town over the past couple of years which included a few burglaries and an armed hold-up of a betting shop. Unlike the clever detectives on TV he had not managed to sleuth his way to any arrests by making deductions based on a series of tricky clues. In fact, he hadn’t even found any clues. His clean up rate on such crimes was zero percent.
He couldn’t even give the various drunks and vandals that got brought in from time to time a clip around the ear like the good old-fashioned coppers on the TV used to. That had all got stopped a long time ago.
He knew Adrian and Hannah did their best, but they were clearly bored senseless by the job, and it wouldn’t surprise him at all if they moved on soon. So he decided it was time for a morale booster.
“Not much happening today, eh?” he said. “Tell you what, why don’t we all clock off and go for a drink?” He could tell immediately from their expressions that they weren’t keen. He continued: “Come on, it’s on me.”
“Actually, boss”, replied Adrian, “I really want to get home to the wife and kids. Miley’s got his football practice tonight and I’ve promised to take him.”
Kent couldn’t argue with that, even though he suspected it may not be true. Miley couldn’t be older than about six, could he? Kent couldn’t remember exactly. He knew Adrian had talked about his kids many times, but he hadn’t really taken any notice. He found other people talking about their children boring. So he turned his attention to Hannah.
“What about you, Hannah? Fancy it?”
The last thing that Hannah wanted was to go for a drink with her boss, especially if Adrian wasn’t going to be there. She was tired, it was dark and all she really wanted to do was go home to her flat, warm up something in the microwave, and take a soak in a long, hot bath.
“I’ll be honest with you, sir…”
“You can call me, Richard”, interrupted Kent, completely overdoing the nice guy act. “I think we’ve all being working together long enough now not to stand on ceremony.”
Hannah was taken aback by this. She wasn’t used to Kent being so friendly. Oh my God, she thought to herself. He doesn’t fancy me, does he? She knew he was married, but the elusive Mrs Kent was seldom seen and never mentioned.
“To be honest, Richard, I’ve got something on tonight”, she replied. “I have a friend coming around. Maybe we could do it another night, when Adrian can come along, too.” As she spoke she made eye contact with Adrian and made sure he saw the pleading look in his eyes. He took the hint.
“Yes, definitely, another night for sure! Maybe next week sometime?” suggested Adrian, trying to sound as if he meant it.
Kent wasn’t fooled. He knew they didn’t want to come. What was the matter with people these days? No one ever seemed to want to go to the pub anymore. When he was a young copper back in the 1990s working in London, there was a massive booze culture among him and his colleagues. They would be down the pub every night or in the Met Social Club.
Such social clubs no longer existed, swept away by the new century’s tide of political correctness, but even going to the pub seemed too much trouble for people these days. No wonder half the pubs in the town had closed down.
“Do you go out to the pub much, Adrian?” he asked.
“Not since I’ve had the kids, boss. I don’t really drink much these days, to be honest.”
“What about when you were younger?” Kent was genuinely curious. Had things changed that much since his generation? What did young people do now? He was only twelve years older than Adrian but he may as well have been his dad, such was the vast chasm between them.
“Not really. I used to just get a few mates round and some cans in and we’d play on the Xbox. Still do occasionally. Much more fun than the pub and you can smoke, too. Not that I do, of course”, he hurriedly added. He did not want to draw any attention to whatever it was he may or may not have been smoking and passing around in the privacy of his own home.
He continued: “And it’s a fiver a pint in the pub these days. I can get eight cans for that in Tesco.”
Kent could see he wasn’t going to win this argument. Clearly he wouldn’t be socialising in the Red Lion with Adrian and Hannah anytime soon. “Right well, you two had better get yourselves off home. I’ve got a few things to finish up here then I’ll probably pop into town for a quick one. It’s been a long day.”
“Goodnight, boss”, said Adrian.
“Goodnight, Richard”, said Hannah, unable to resist a last bit of sarcasm.
“That’s goodnight, sir, to you”, retorted Kent, petulantly. “I was only going to let you call me Richard if you came to the pub.”
“Goodnight, then, sir”, said Hannah, and she and Adrian headed out through the double swing-doors into the cold night air. Both felt a palpable sense of relief that they hadn’t allowed themselves to be talked into going to the pub.
“That was a narrow escape” she said to Adrian.
“Perhaps we should go and have a drink with him sometime” suggested Adrian. “Keep him sweet. I feel a bit sorry for the old guy sometimes.”
Kent wasn’t that bad underneath it all, thought Hannah. He did have quite good entertainment value if nothing else. There were certainly worse people they could have as a boss. It might be quite amusing to see what he was like in the pub after a few drinks. And it was not as if she had anything much planned on the social front for the near future.
Little did she know of the life-changing events that the week ahead would bring.
“Alright, we will”, she replied. “Perhaps next week. But you had better not let me down. I don’t want to end up on my own wi
th him.”
They parted company and headed home. She was really looking forward to that hot bath now.
Chapter Eight
Things had taken an unexpected twist on arrival at the cinema. They often did when Lauren was around.
As soon as they entered the foyer, Lauren clocked the guy on the popcorn stand. He had short, blond, spiky hair, a square jaw, and a slim but muscular physique.
“Wow – he’s cute”, remarked Lauren. “Who’s for popcorn?”
“You’ve just had a massive McDonald’s!” exclaimed Charlie. “You can’t be hungry again already.”
“Oh I am”, replied Lauren, and then with a cheeky grin added, “but not in the way you think.”
Before Charlie and Kaylee could say any more, Lauren was making a beeline for the food counter.
“You didn’t want any popcorn, did you, Kaylee?” Charlie asked.
“No, I’m fine, that Big Mac was more than enough for me. However, I did pick these up from Poundland before we left.” Kaylee opened her bag and pulled out a bag of fizzy sweets. “Dessert?” she asked.
“Nice one. They’re my favourites!” replied Charlie, secretly relieved that she hadn’t wanted anything. He’d left school with nearly £30 in his pocket but after the bus fares, McDonald’s and cinema tickets, funds were running extremely low.
He was well aware that the price of food in the cinema was astronomical. Running out of cash would be extremely embarrassing.
Kaylee glanced over to the food counter. Lauren was chatting away animatedly with the popcorn guy, and Kaylee could see that she was blatantly flirting with him.
“Hey, Lauren, if you can drag yourself away, the film’s about to start”, she called.
Lauren gestured at her and Charlie to come over, and then said “There’s been a bit of a change of plan. This is Aaron. Aaron, this is Charlie and Kaylee.”
“Hello”, said Charlie, feeling at a bit of a loss as to what else to say. Kaylee was a bit more direct.
“What’s this change of plan? We want to see the movie”, she said, wondering what on earth Lauren was getting them into now.
“You still can”, replied Lauren. “But I’m not coming with you. Aaron here finishes his shift at seven and he’s asked me to go for a drink with him. You don’t mind, do you?”
“I suppose not”, replied Kaylee.
Charlie didn’t say anything but inside he was secretly delighted. He didn’t like the look of Aaron. He had more than a bit of a “bad boy” look about him.
However, if he was taking Lauren out of the equation, meaning he got Kaylee all to himself, then Aaron was OK by him.
“Besides”, continued Lauren, as if she’d read Charlie’s mind. “You don’t need me playing gooseberry all evening. It’ll give you two a chance to spend some time on your own together.”
“Do you want to meet up with us after the film?” asked Kaylee, already knowing what the answer was likely to be.
“Best not. I can’t say for sure where I’ll be. Oh – and if anyone asks – I stayed at yours tonight, OK?”
“OK – well you go off and have a good time then. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do”, said Kaylee.
“You don’t do anything!” exclaimed Lauren, and then threw Charlie a knowing glance and added: “Though I’ve got a feeling that might be about to change.”
“We’d better get in there then”, said Charlie, eager to move things along.
“Catch you later”, said Lauren. “Oh – and Charlie?”
“Yes?” he replied.
“Look after her or you’ll have me to answer to.”
Charlie and Kaylee turned and walked towards the corridor leading to the screens, while Lauren turned her attention back to her latest potential conquest.
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Back in the town, Kent opened the large wooden door leading into the Red Lion. It was one of the oldest pubs in the town. There were low wooden beams across the ceiling, exposed stone walls and a traditional open fireplace.
Kent was pleased to see that it contained a roaring fire on this cold autumn evening. There weren’t many people around but it was only Tuesday after all. A young couple were huddled around a small table close to the fire, talking intimately. A couple of blokes in painter and decorator overalls were playing pool at the far end of the bar, having clearly clocked off for the day and come straight to the pub. And sitting on a stool at the bar spouting his opinions to the barman was Andy.
Kent was more than familiar with Andy. He had been brought down to the station a couple of times over the past few months for being drunk and disorderly so knew what to expect. He caught the tail-end of the conversation as he headed over to the bar.
“I’m telling you mate, it’s bloody ridiculous. How is anyone supposed to buy a house around here? I looked in the estate agents on the way down here, and do you know what they want now for a one-bedroom house? Do you?”
Before the barman could do as much as think about hazarding a guess, Andy continued, undeterred. “300 grand!” He paused and then repeated it for dramatic effect. “300 grand! Now you tell me how anyone on an average wage around here’s supposed to afford that. I’m 42, right? There’s no way I’ll ever be able to buy a house on my salary.”
“What salary is that, Andy?” interjected Kent, deciding this was a good time to enter the conversation. “I thought you were unemployed.”
“I’m temporarily between jobs, mate. I was made redundant.”
Andy turned to look at who was speaking and blearily tried to focus his eyes to identify Kent. Slowly recognition came to him and he continued, “Oh it’s you. Well, you’ll be alright. Coppers earn loads, don’t they? And you get more off of us at every opportunity. You know what one of your mates did the other day? I’ll tell you. Nicked me, she did. She gave me a ticket and an £80 fine just for dropping a fag butt on the pavement. Well I’m telling you now, I’m not paying it.”
Kent was about to reply, but sensing a possible flashpoint, the barman decided to intervene to change the subject.
“What can I get you?” he asked Kent, in a strong Australian accent. He was tall and tanned with bleached blond hair and looked like he’d just stepped off Bondi Beach. Kent wondered what on earth he was doing serving beer here in this godforsaken town in this climate. Perhaps he should ask. “Pint of bitter please”, he replied. “So what are you doing over here so far from home?” he began.
But he didn’t get to find out because Andy, whom he was attempting to ignore, decided to interrupt. “Can you get us a pint, too, mate? I’ll buy you one back after.” He was noticeably slurring by now and wobbling about on the stool. Kent was amazed he wasn’t falling off, such was his state of imbalance.
“I’m not buying you a drink, Andy. You’ve had enough already.” Turning back to the barman he said, “And you of all people should know that”, making reference to Australia’s strict licensing rules about serving intoxicated customers.
“Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t drink?” shouted Andy. “You’re not at work now, are you? Oh yeah, don’t tell me, a good copper’s never off duty, right?”
“You’ve had too much to drink, Andy”, replied Kent. “You moan about house prices and paying fines but if you didn’t get yourself into such a state drinking all day in the first place, maybe you could start doing something about it.”
This was slightly hypocritical considering how much Kent himself drank, but since he had a job, in his eyes that was OK.
Andy downed the rest of his pint and proffered his glass to the barman. “Don’t listen to him!” he said loudly. “I want another pint. I’m mates with the landlord. Get him down here, he’ll tell you to serve me.”
“I think you’ll find he won’t”, said Kent, deciding to exert his authority. Hannah and Adrian might have been messing him about the last couple of days, but in the pub he was the king.
“Do you know who the chairman of the pubwatch committee around here is?
Yes, you’re right, it’s me. Now unless you want to get this young man and his boss into trouble and yourself onto pubwatch, I suggest you leave now.”
Andy knew he was beaten so he slid off his stool and started wandering drunkenly towards the exit. Before he reached the door he turned to make one parting shot: “Tell your bird I’m not paying that fine. You can bloody sing for it.”
He crashed through the doors and out into the night.
Kent breathed a sigh of relief, turned back to Bondi Beach guy and began the conversation again. “So whereabouts in Australia are you from?” he asked.
Now that Andy was gone he could get started on the long and serious process of getting pissed himself. He’d been working hard all day. As far as he was concerned he’d earned it.
=============================
It was gone 8pm in the cinema and the film was getting towards its end. But Charlie had only one thing on his mind: getting closer to Kaylee.
They had managed to sneak into the premium seats which, as was often the case, were unoccupied. Now her slender, pale arm was on the arm rest right next to him. Her fingertips were tantalisingly close to his. He had been trying for the past fifteen minutes to pluck up the courage to reach over and hold her hand, but his ever-present fear of rejection had held him back.
Why did he find this so difficult? Why was it so easy for the likes of Lauren and Josh?
Josh! He’d forgotten all about him and the Time Bubble. He must be due to come out soon. If he didn’t hear from him tonight then Charlie was going to get really worried.
He tried to put it out of his head, as he looked once again at Kaylee’s hand. It was such a simple thing to do. Just reach over and hold her hand. She wouldn’t reject him, would she? She wouldn’t have come here with him in the first place if she didn’t like him.
Then again, it could all be Lauren’s doing. Maybe she had talked her into coming and she hadn’t really wanted to at all. His head was buzzing as these thoughts bounced round and around, but then suddenly and unexpectedly Kaylee came to his rescue.
