Reprobates by R.C. Bridgestock

Author:R.C. Bridgestock [Bridgestock, R.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
Published: 2020-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Jen walked into the office to find the personal files of officers strewn all over her desk. She saw one of the cabinet’s drawers had been emptied. She lifted her arms in the air.

Rita, who was sat opposite her, shrugged her shoulders. ‘Don’t look at me, I’ve only just come up from the stores,’ she said. Donna had a day off and Margaret was on the telephone. She covered the receiver. ‘Avril wants them all updating on the computer system asap,’ she said.

‘Hence her wanting me in today! Guess that’s me tied to the desk for the duration then,’ Jen said to Rita, pulling a face.

‘Guess so, kid,’ Rita replied, winking at her and making a clicking sound with her tongue.

Jack Dylan’s file was in her hands, ‘Hey, I might actually enjoy this, though,’ Jen said, thumbing through the paperwork. ‘Don’t tell, Beaky.’

Rita’s phone rang and an animated conversation ensued. ‘From Pontefract, you say? How about sending me some Pontefract cakes then?’

Jen smiled broadly at her friend, who grinned back. Rita would make a friend in an empty house as her mum would have said.

Settled in the corner of the room with a cup of tea, Jen started to read. Inputting the data even for her husband was laborious and she looked on the rest of the pile heaped on her desk ruefully. Page by page she felt as if she was passing through the years with officer Jack Dylan. She was thrilled to read the application that he’d submitted to join up nearly twenty years before and smiled at the picture of him then. Twenty-three years old. She laughed out loud. Rita glanced across the room.

‘Sorry,’ Jen said, putting a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, bless him, how cute was he with that side parting and slicked back hair… and that moustache!’ Jen held up the picture for Margaret to see.

‘That’s when he joined CID.’

‘The CID moustache,’ said Rita. ‘They all had one back in the day.’ Jen touched the image of his face. ‘Black and white photographs always make people look very serious, don’t they?’

‘Sad thing is, I remember it well,’ said Margaret.

‘How long have you been here?’

‘Oh, fixtures and fittings me, love… Dylan looked but a boy. I think that moustache was intended to make him look older.’

Dylan’s promotion board assessment results were all excellent. Jen beamed with pride. He’d never shared that information. So many commendations and recommendations for the next rank by his supervisors. He’d not even hinted. He’d only spent two years in uniform. She could recall him telling her about the starched collars and the helmets of the uniform giving him a red ring around his neck and forehead. No wonder he couldn’t wait to get out of it. Burglary Squad, Vice Squad, this operation, that operation, this commendation, that commendation, then a minute sheet that made her jaw drop. He was accepted to the firearms specialist unit. She inputted the date. 10th June 1998.

‘That’s funny,’ Jen said out loud.

‘What’s funny?’ asked Margaret.

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