Angels of Mourning. John Pritchard

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СКАЧАТЬ – that guilt again – and then turned towards the man who’d spoken. He was already crossing the road towards me, a radio in one hand. Wearing one of those high-visibility yellow jackets over his uniform, the reflective stripes like ribs. There were silver pips on his epaulettes, I noticed. He’d be an Inspector or something.

      ‘May I ask where you’re going, please?’ Quite politely – but some reckless part of me still wanted to mutter No, you may not. The sort of witty riposte that gets you a night in the cells if you’re not careful.

      ‘Camden Town,’ I answered, sensibly; trying to appear all calm and unruffled. ‘I’ve been helping with a soup run by King’s Cross.’ Trying to seem the interested citizen too as I added: ‘Is this to do with the bombings, then?’

      He looked like he hadn’t had more than two nights’ sleep in seven: his face pale, and shadowed with stubble. But his smile, when it came, was genuine enough: it widened his light blue eyes, and made him handsome. I guessed he was a little older than me; but even after all he must have been through these past few weeks, there was still something almost youthful in that wry expression.

      ‘Afraid so. We had some information … but it’s come to nothing.’ His tone was low and pleasant, with just a hint of exasperation. I found myself beginning to warm to him. With some people, things just click.

      ‘You … look like you’ve been on the job a while,’ I ventured.

      ‘Too bloody right.’ He scratched absently at the roughness of his cheek. ‘Surveillance stubble, you could call this …’ As he turned his head to glance upstreet, I saw a neat receiver tucked into his ear, too, its wire leading down into his collar.

      The transit behind us started up, and sat there ticking over.

      The Inspector lifted his handset to his mouth. ‘All units from Whisky Oscar One … Back to the transport, we’re moving on.’ He lowered the radio, and smiled at me again.

      ‘Best be on your way too, Miss. It’s not the safest area to be on your own in …’

      I nodded; though it still felt safer than the one I’d left behind me.

      Walking on, I couldn’t help wondering if they’d caught a whiff of Razoxane’s terrorists: somewhere round here. Or maybe Razoxane herself. If their information had really been correct, they’d have had a result, all right: a total blood-bath. No prizes for guessing who I thought would walk away. And I’d shared a smile with that bloke while knowing what I knew.

      This time the twinge of guilt was real.

      I’d walked a hundred yards or so when the transit passed me, cruising. I glimpsed the Inspector sitting up beside the driver. They reached the intersection just ahead – and came scrunching to a stop.

      Give Way said the sign; but nothing was coming. The intersection stayed deserted, like the street. But the transit just sat there – its brake lights all the brighter now that the day was losing colour.

      For no obvious reason, I began to slow my pace.

      And then they were off again, tyres rasping over tarmac as they turned north, and put on speed, and were quickly lost to sight.

      A personable bloke, that Inspector; but something told me he knew his stuff. As did his men, if the one I’d seen was anything to go by.

      Well, Razoxane, I thought, resuming my thoughtful walk. I’d watch my bloody step if I were you.

      Maybe the outcome of their encounter wouldn’t be such a foregone conclusion after all.

Chapter 8

      According to the Know Your Medics notice on my office pinboard – a classic fifth-generation photocopy – Consultants can clear tall buildings in a single bound, walk on water and give policy to God. But when Murdoch put his head round the duty-room door, it was only to ask if we were all okay for transport next Thursday evening.

      ‘I’ve room for two more if not; three, if you count the roof-rack …’

      We assured him that we’d manage, and were looking forward to coming – which was true. Sickness and workload had conspired against the unit’s Christmas meal out last month, and it had gone by the board; an act of surrender that had left us feeling pretty flat. He’d picked up the vibes – and quietly organized a party at his own house. I don’t know about the others, but that gesture had really warmed me inside. Some Consultants stay aloof; but Murdoch, medic and manager, was very much one of our tightly-knit team.

      It promised to be fun: a night off we all needed. I just hoped I wouldn’t be the spectre at the feast …

      ‘Well if there’s nothing else, I’ll be wending my merry way homeward …’ He glanced down at his briefcase. ‘I’ve got my mobile, if anything interesting crops up.’

      I smiled goodbye, and listened to his footsteps click away towards the exit; then looked round at the others.

      ‘Really nice of him, isn’t it? The party, I mean.’

      Johann (Senior Reg: clears short buildings with a favourable wind, and talks to God) leaned back, grinning. ‘He has these aberrations sometimes.’

      ‘I couldn’t have imagined it when I came here,’ Lucy murmured, from the depths of our comfiest chair. ‘Him throwing a party. I was really scared of him to start with.’

      ‘You are not alone,’ Johann said, with a wink at me. ‘I think even Rachel is afraid of Dr Murdoch.’

      ‘Good God, yes,’ I agreed cheerfully, tucking my feet up under me. ‘Bloody Godzilla would be scared of Murdoch when he’s in one of his moods …’

      ‘His wife’s meant to be very nice,’ Michelle put in. ‘She’s a nurse, isn’t she?’

      ‘Used to be, I think. What’s her name, too … ?’

      ‘Mrs Murdoch.’

      ‘No. Her proper name.’ I gave Johann a withering look; he beamed it back at me.

      ‘It’s not an other-halves do, is it?’ This – without enthusiasm – from Lucy, who was currently unattached.

      Michelle shook her head. ‘Members only.’ Which was what most of us preferred. I quite liked showing Nick off on occasion – but there were times when we needed to be together as a group. It had been the same in A&E, and on other wards before it. The things we’d shared between us forged a special kind of bond.

      ‘You and your bloke well settled now, Rachel?’ Lucy asked me.

      ‘Mm.’ I smiled. ‘My parish priest was asking how my “significant other” was, the other week. Always teasing me about it, he is.’

      ‘You haven’t managed to drag him along to Mass, then?’

      ‘He keeps threatening to mention that I’m on the pill. Rotten sod. Don’t know why I put up with him, sometimes …’

      ‘Do we know who’s bringing СКАЧАТЬ