Today's Reading
'He's here to deal with a problem,' Faulkner continued. 'A very urgent one, and we're under orders to help him however we can. Very strict orders. That's on top of all our other work, of course,' he added, and she caught the resentment in his voice.
'This is more important,' Dan said.
'I'm not denying it,' he agreed. 'Tomorrow morning, as soon as everyone's here, he's going to give us all the details.' He checked his wristwatch. 'Why don't you two get off? It sounds like you have quite a bit of catching up to do.' He looked at Cathy. 'I'll let you know what they sweat out of Dobson. That really was some very good work.'
The rain was still falling, a press of people all around them on the pavement. Full blackout, but after a year and a half it felt like second nature. No lamps or bright shop displays, windows all covered with tape. Sandbags around the doors. Not a light anywhere, only black and white stripes painted on the kerbs and lamp posts to guide them. She tucked her arm through his, raised her umbrella and led him through the streets.
Dan was carrying a leather suitcase, and stopped every couple of minutes to adjust his grip. Her eyes flickered towards him, still trying to take in what she'd heard.
Along Kirkgate, then waiting until she sensed a gap in the traffic to hurry across Vicar Lane.
A tram was sitting at the York Road stop. With a sigh she slid into a seat, her brother beside her.
'Do they know you're coming? Ma didn't say anything this morning.'
'I didn't even know myself until late last night,' he said. 'Had to make four changes on the way because of bomb damage on the lines. I only arrived a couple of hours ago.'
An urgent problem, she thought. A rushed journey. That had to mean something big. A flap. MI5, XX Committee. Her own brother... it spilled around, a jumble in her mind.
'They'll be thrilled to bits to have you home.'
'I don't know how much chance they'll have to see me,' he told her. 'It's work. I'll probably be gone all hours.'
Every seat was taken, and people stood, holding on to the straps. The familiar winter smells of damp wool and sour breath filled the tram. Nobody seemed to be paying them a scrap of attention. Still, best not to say too much where people could hear. No loose talk.
'Sounds like you've made a splash down in London. Is what the boss said true? About your job.'
He seemed to be weighing how much to tell her. Watching him, she could make out the lines around his eyes and mouth. The worry and the strain.
Whatever he did these days was taking its toll.
'I started with them before the war,' he said finally. 'I've only been with this current lot since the beginning of the year, when they were formed.
That's why I couldn't come up at Christmas; we were making all the preparations.' He chuckled. 'I'm the only northerner.'
'And the only one who isn't a posh boy?'
He looked straight ahead, and she saw she'd hit a nerve. 'I'm there because I'm good.'
He'd need to be, in company like that. 'How do you like it?'
The frown vanished as quickly as it appeared. 'It keeps me busy.' He opened his mouth as if to say something, then seemed to change his mind. 'What about you? Looks like you've done well for yourself, too. Your outfit has a very good reputation.'
'More than you ever expected from me?' she asked, and let the question hang like a challenge between them. Her tone hardened. 'I'm there because I'm good, too. Not to get the tea and do the filing, if that's what you were wondering. They tried to make me into a skivvy when I joined with the police. It soon stopped.'
He smiled. 'Sergeant Faulkner made it perfectly clear you pull your weight.'
'I do.' No need to be modest about that. She was a good copper and she'd taken to the SIB work like she'd been born for it. 'The boss is good. It was all very strange at first, but I like it.'
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