Nick Oldham - Bad Tidings

‘Thank God that hospital porter spotted your blood pooling out under that storeroom door.’

‘I’ll always be grateful to a hospital porter,’ Henry said. ‘And the fact that the gun was loaded with home-made shells.’

Sometimes, at night, he could hear the metallic smack of the firing pin hitting the useless bullets in Janine’s gun. And sometimes, the bullets fired.

Alison’s face creased at the thought. She turned and looked earnestly at him. ‘Henry, I don’t want to go through that again.’

‘It was just a bit of bad luck, really.’

‘What — being shot by a madwoman! You take it all so. . so. . God, I don’t know. Like it’s a joke.’ She was infuriated by his attitude. She smacked her fists down onto her thighs. She found she couldn’t say anything else and her eyelids fluttered over new tears. She had lost her first husband in a very ugly incident in the Middle East where she and he were both serving in the armed forces. Henry was aware the memory still affected her even eight years down the line. ‘Look,’ she eventually said firmly, turning her whole body to him to make her point. ‘You asked me to marry you and I said yes. I’m not going to rush you or anything, but I really would like to get married as soon as possible. . it means so much to me, honey. And I’d really like you to retire from the police. You keep saying you will, but you don’t do it. But I absolutely hate you turning out to murders and horrible stuff like that.’ She paused. ‘I know you think you were born to hunt killers, but can we get on with our life without that at the Tawny Owl? I know you want to, and I want it — us — to be a success, but I want you to be by my side all the time. .’

Henry looked up to see Rik Dean crossing the bar, mobile phone clamped to his ear, looking urgently at Henry and making excitable gestures.

‘What do you say, love. .?’

Before Henry could answer, Rik said bluntly, ‘Henry — look, sorry to cut in, I can see this is a lovey-dovey moment, but there’s a bit of breaking news here. .’

Alison stared incredulously at Rik. Henry saw her reaction and for a moment was torn. . what the hell was so important? He did the balancing act in his head and it came down in Alison’s favour.

‘Just give us a minute, pal?’ He arched his eyebrows pointedly at his friend, trying to get the message across.

‘But-!’

‘One minute,’ Henry insisted.

Rik’s eyes narrowed. He ended his phone call and walked over to the bar where Karl and Karen Donaldson were standing, glancing back at Henry, curious and a little alarmed.

‘Alison.’ He touched her knee. ‘I will retire in the near future, I promise, and I can’t wait to get legitimately serving beer to all those sozzled villagers in Kendleton. . though I do have the feeling that me running a pub might be akin to Herod running a nursery. But I do have a few things to sort and a desk to clear. . but for the first time in my life, I’m going to have a very long period off sick and milk the system, during which time I will do the decent thing by you and go down on one knee somewhere a bit tropical. But only when I know I can get back up without having to use a cane or a crane.’

‘Sod the painkillers.’ Henry slapped Rik on the back, having managed to creakily get to the bar. ‘I need a pint. . and what’s so all-fired important on that telephone of yours?’

‘They’ve tracked her down.’

‘Where?’ Henry gasped. His insides did an empty spin.

‘Marseilles, would you believe?’

‘France?’

‘I think that’s where Marseilles is. . but get this. . she’s holed up in some grot-flat near the seafront and has opened fire at the bloody gendarmes. . there’s a bloody siege going on.’

Henry shook his head. ‘Who’d’ve thought it. .’

‘Told you she was a black widow.’