Lynda Plante - Blind Fury

She stubbed out the cigarette and went back to the phone. Should she call them? She decided she would write, and she spent a long time writing and rewriting a letter to his parents and ripping it up and starting again. She constantly looked at the ring on her finger. It didn’t twist and turn; it fit perfectly now.

Langton called, and she let the machine answer. She couldn’t talk to him, talk to anyone. Instead, she went into her bedroom and lay down.

On her bedside table was the forever-present photograph of her beloved father, and beside it was the only photograph she had of Ken. It was the one he had sent her, aged eight, dressed as a clown. She lay with her face turned to the two photographs of the most beloved people in her life, and she cried.

Anna did not go to the funeral; nor did she send the letter to Ken’s parents. She spent most of the time looking over the notes for the forthcoming trial. Every night she slept turned to the two photographs and left her machine on, refusing any calls. Lizzie had called numerous times, Langton up to three times a day. She had told Langton she wouldn’t be able to cope being alone, but now she found the solitariness helped her remain calm, and gradually, she knew she couldn’t cry anymore. She even practiced controlling the surges of grief that would overtake her when she least expected it.

Her flat was immaculate, and those extra pounds she had intended to lose had gone, as she hardly ate, but she smoked a lot. Cigarettes no longer made her feel dizzy when she inhaled. Lighting and sucking in the smoke gave her a strange energy and made her aware of her shaking hands. Always glancing at her engagement ring, she had decided she would never take it off.

The day she decided to return to work, she dressed carefully, putting on black suit with a crisp white shirt and a pencil skirt, shedding the old tracksuit she had worn most days. She had washed and blow-dried her hair and made up her face carefully, adding lip gloss. She stood staring at herself in the wardrobe mirror and felt she was ready, her armor in place. She knew that the first day back was going to be difficult, and she intended to make it as unemotional as possible. Not for herself; she knew the team would find it hard to approach her.

Anna parked in her space at the station. She was glad not to see Langton’s car and to know he wouldn’t be there. She smoked a cigarette before she got out and headed into the station. It was exactly as she had expected. As she walked to her desk, the incident room went quiet. All eyes were on her as she put down her briefcase. Barbara was the first to come to her desk, and she had tears in her eyes.

“I am so sorry, it’s just terrible. If there is anything I can do, you just have to say.”

“Thank you, Barbara. I’m fine now.”

Joan looked over. Her face showed such compassion, and like Barbara, she looked like she was going to burst into tears.

Barolli brought her a coffee; he couldn’t meet her eyes. “You need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you, I will. I’ll need an update as soon as I’ve got myself sorted out.”

“Yeah, whenever you are ready.”

Mike Lewis looked through the blinds in his office. Langton had said that he doubted Travis would return for a few months, at least until the trial was set, but there she was. It had been only two weeks. He took a deep breath, finding it difficult to go out and face her. Everyone found it hard, since she appeared to be totally in control, spending a long time looking over the incident board and making her own notes.

Mike eventually came and patted her shoulder. “We’re all here for you, Anna, and you have my condolences.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. Tell me, have they prepared a full case file for the Chrissie O’Keefe murder?”

Mike told her that Smiley would stand trial for that murder, along with the other four. He said that Smiley had been refused bail and was awaiting trial at Wandsworth Prison. The trial date was set for three months’ time, and they would now be preparing all the evidence ready for the prosecution case conferences and defense disclosure. The CPS had been quick to oversee the case files and appoint a top queen’s counsel to prosecute.

Anna got into the routine of coming in to the station at eight-thirty every morning and leaving at six. The team began to pack up the incident room in preparation for the forthcoming trial, boxing the statements and evidence. As soon as the trial took place, they could all be allocated to another murder inquiry. It was not a foregone conclusion that they would work together; they could be split up. Anna hoped that Langton would retain them all. It would be up to him to select who went where.

It had been almost three months since the death of Ken, and Anna was surprised to see Langton in Mike’s office when she came in for work. He had continued to make calls and check up on her, but over the past few weeks, these had gradually stopped, and in some way she was relieved.

When he came out of Mike’s office, he smiled and came to her desk. He set down an envelope. “I reckon this is about time. Open it.”

Langton had put her forward for promotion. She would have to go through all the promotional interviews and written reports that she had been subjected to previously. She smiled up at him and asked whether he would be on the board, as at her last attempt at promotion. He shook his head and said that as he had personally suggested she be one of the candidates, he would not be on the review team.

“You’d better not cock it up this time,” he joked, and she was touched that he was recommending her.

“Thank you.”

“Take your time, make sure all your written reports are up to scratch, and don’t get shirty with the psychologist.”

Anna gave a soft laugh. The previous time she had become angry with some of the questions she was asked, and believing that Langton had scuppered her promotion, she had walked out before the interview was completed.

“I’ll behave myself,” she said, putting the envelope in her briefcase.

“I think you are ready for it. You’ve done terrific work on the Smiley case, and you have shown that you have become a real team player, so now it’s up to you. Good luck.”

“I’ve never really thanked you for being there for me,” she said quietly. “It can’t have been easy, having to tell me about Ken.”

“It wasn’t, but you’ll have time with the trial on to do your grieving.” He gave her a long look and then leaned over her desk to kiss her cheek.

“I love you,” he said.

Then he walked out, and she realized that she had been able to say Ken’s name without that terrible rush of emotion. She knew, too, that it was time to write the letter to his parents, and to go and see Lizzie.

That weekend Anna finally sent the letter to Ken’s parents and called on Lizzie. It was a major step in coming to terms with her loss, but she found the meeting difficult, as it brought back so many memories. Lizzie made a toasted sandwich and a pot of tea. Anna was so tense that it was hard to swallow, but she forced herself to take a couple of bites.

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want it,” Lizzie said, and Anna smiled gratefully as the other woman removed the plate and tipped the remains of the sandwich into the bin. She was standing with her back to Anna, looking out into the garden at the children’s swing and remembering the last time they had been together. She could almost hear Ken’s laughter as he played around with her boys, the way he had come into the kitchen with her youngest on his shoulders.

“Oh, God, it’s so unfair,” Lizzie said, and burst into tears.

Anna went and put her arms around her, refusing to break down herself. After a while she said that she would have to leave, as she was working toward the trial.