Lynda La Plante - Civvies

Dillon eased back the duvet and slipped in beside her, leaving just a few inches between them, but it was a while before she felt his body heat closer, closer.

'Are you awake?'

'Yes,' she whispered, and he leaned up on his elbow, gently lifting a stray strand of her thick brown hair away from the bruise on her face.

'I love you, you do know that don't you?'

She met his dark eyes, and nodded, she could see him straining to find the right words to say. 'I… we lose each other a bit sometimes don't we?'

Again Susie nodded and he rested his head against her breast. 'I'm not hurting you am I?'

He could feel her heart beating, and he wanted her to hold him, but knew with her bad arm she couldn't.

'I can fix the nightdress, Frank, it'll look okay.'

He lifted his head, and gave the smile, the smile she so adored, childlike, innocent. 'Bugger the nightdress… all that matters is you and me, and we're okay aren't we?'

'Yes, yes we are…'

Susie had no knowledge of how long he lay close to her, or for how long he studied her face as the painkillers made her drift into a deep dreamless sleep. He scrutinised every pore, every contour of her lovely face, her lips slightly parted, her dark eyelashes, the same as Kenny's, thick, dark eyelashes, and her high sweeping cheeks, just like Phil's. His wife, their mother, his beloved. He knew it had to be over, he would start fresh in the morning, have a serious talk to Harry. It was not their business any more, and may God forgive him, he would bury the pact he had promised the dead boys, it was the living, his family, that mattered most in all the world to him, and he was not going to jeopardise their safety. He had almost lost Susie's love, he knew that, and to have used physical force on her was shameful, he would never do that again. He could feel that dark cloud lifting, perhaps it was just sleep slowly enveloping him, but he felt good, felt peaceful for the first time in many years.

Start afresh, don't look back, what's past is past. The bright new philosophy according to Frank Dillon. The past had fucked up, so dump it in the trash bin and given the future a fighting chance.

And Dillon meant it, more determined than anything he'd ever done or attempted in his life before to make it work. Which meant (Susie was right, he knew it in his bones) that Stag Security had to be run by the book. Get the business up on its feet and they were off to a flying start.

Anyway, the signs looked good, because the office had never looked better, Harry with the Hoover on the go, Cliff mopping down the basement steps when Dillon showed up. He got an earful soon as he walked in.

'Oi! Wipe your feet, I just Hoovered there -' Harry jabbed a finger at Cliff, trailing in with a mop and bucket. 'An' you, take that bucket out into the yard.'

'Need new bog rolls,' Cliff put in. 'Stamps, coffee, tea and sugar, milk, an' we should keep a first-aid kit handy too. Aspirins, liver salts, stuff like that.'

Dillon was at the desk with a clean sheet of paper, pencil in hand. 'With Susie out of action I've got a bit of schleppin' to do with the kids, so I'm workin' out a rota.'

'I don't mind doin' nights,' Harry offered.

'Just a sec' Dillon wanted to start another clean sheet. 'I reckon I've been throwin' me weight around, an' we're all in this together, okay? So if I say somethin' you don't agree with… well…' He gestured vaguely.

'You'll give us a sock in the gob!' Harry grinned.

Cliff laughed and clanked outside with his bucket. Harry looped the cable to the Hoover, watching him go. He said confidentially, 'Hey, Frank, about that other matter. I'm handling it.'

Dillon was writing. Without looking up he gave a small, tight nod. Start afresh, don't look back, what's past is past. The pencil dug into the paper. He looked up sharply.

'Harry…!'

At the door, Harry turned, Hoover in hand.

Dillon stared at him. He shook his head. 'Nothin'.' He went back to his writing.

He'd been heading up a blind alley but now he could see light ahead. Dillon's feeling that things were changing – for the better – grew stronger each day. Work was coming in, they were even building up a small core of regular clients. He had the sense that a watershed had been passed, and that with hard graft and a bit of luck they were going to make it.

The first encouraging proof came just over a week later, and he couldn't get home quick enough to tell Susie about it. She was in the kitchen, putting food away in the fridge. Getting rid of the stockinette sling gave her some freedom of movement, but the cast was still an encumbrance. Dillon waltzed in, waving a folder.

'We're in profit – it's paying the cars, the rent and wages -!'

He swung her round, hugged her.

'You mean you can start paying me a wage?' Susie asked him with an impish grin.

Dillon gave her a look. 'You not workin' for Marway?'

'Just Stag Security-Taxi-Chauffeur,' she said firmly. She gently punched him under the chin with the plaster cast. This'll be off soon.'

Dillon laughed and gave her a smacker. On his way to answer the doorbell he sang out, 'Give you my word, you won't regret it!'

His terrific good mood lasted until he opened the door and saw Harry's face. More exactly, its set, closed expression, eyes fixed on his, unblinking. 'I wanna show you somethin'.' As Dillon's mouth tightened, Harry held up his hand. 'Hey, take it easy. Can I come in?' And when Dillon made no move, just stood there blocking the door, delved inside his jacket and produced two photostat images and held them up.

'These are the suspects. Take a look for yourself.'

Full face, left and right profiles, two men, early twenties, one with sideburns. Dillon barely glanced at them before shoving Harry onto the landing, well out of earshot. Harry caught his drift and had sense enough to keep his voice low.

'Guy on the second page, it's one of them, Frank. Wally's tip-off was legit.'

'Harry – I got to think about this.' Dillon rubbed his face, and then his head shot round as he heard Susie's voice calling, 'Is it Mum, Frank?'

He stuck his head in the door. 'No, love… just Harry,' and carefully pulled it shut.

Harry waited a couple of moments, studying Dillon's face. 'You don't have to get involved,' he said, slow, deliberate, the meaning made stronger because of it. 'But you started this, Frank, not me, you.'

'I dunno.' Dillon looked at the door. 'I don't know, I need time…'

'I don't have it, they could move on any day.' Harry had said his piece, Dillon knew the score, and he turned to go. Dillon grabbed his arm, pulled him round. His whisper was harsh.

'You know where he is?'

Harry looked into Dillon's eyes. He nodded. 'I just needed to be sure.' He thrust the photostats into Dillon's hand. 'Keep 'em, tell me tomorrow,' he said, and went down the stairway.

Dillon leaned against the wall. He rested his eyes for a minute, aware of his heart beating rapidly. Slowly he opened them and stared down at the two faces. Early twenties. Long dark hair. Sideburns: Leather jacket. Dillon leaned over the railings, waiting to see Harry across the courtyard below. He whistled and Harry looked upwards. No words passed between them, Dillon simply gave him the signal to wait.

The closing credits of a cops and robbers series were rolling up as Dillon popped his head into the living-room. He said brightly, 'I won't be too late. Kids are asleep!'

'What is it?' Susie asked, feet propped up on the couch. 'Security work?'

'Yeah!'

'Is it cash or…'

Dillon cleared his throat. 'Cash,' he said decisively. 'Night, sweetheart.' He went out, closing the front door so it didn't slam. Susie flicked the remote control. The chimes of Big Ben boomed out, News at Ten just starting.