Nick Oldham - Fighting for the Dead

A few minutes later after being given a prescription for a string of painkillers, Henry was discharged. The suggestion that he might have to stay in for overnight observation was thankfully not raised, and he didn’t remind them.

Hand in hand, he and Alison walked towards the exit, discussing what to do about his car. Because of the size of the swelling and the fact it had closed one eye, he had been advised not to drive. The prospect of leaving the Merc in the police garage wasn’t appealing, though. It would be safe from thieving, but not damage — and Henry didn’t want to abandon it there.

Alison pulled Henry to a jarring halt. ‘Look, I’ll drive you to the Owl in my car and we’ll collect yours in the morning when the swelling might have gone down,’ she insisted.

‘I can drive. One eye’s plenty good enough. I know where I’m going.’

‘The country roads have no street lights — so you can’t.’

‘I can so.’

She gave him her best look of disdain, then shook her head at his stubbornness and glanced down the corridor to see a figure walking disconsolately towards them from the surgical wards. She was about to give Henry a piece of her mind, but did a double-take.

‘That looks like… oh my God, it is. Steve Flynn.’

‘Is it?’ Henry reckoned to peer at him.

‘Yes, it is… Steve,’ she called.

If there had been stones or pebbles on the floor, Flynn would have been kicking them forlornly along. He stopped and raised his head at the sound of his name.

‘Alison?’ he said uncertainly.

She released her grip on Henry’s hand. ‘Steve… it’s so good to see you,’ she said genuinely, pacing away from Henry and giving Flynn an enormous hug, the sight of which opened Henry’s good eye with infuriation. Flynn had met Alison at the same time as Henry in Kendleton.

‘You look really well,’ she said, drawing away and inspecting him from tip to toe. Flynn always looked well. A deep Canary Island tan on a well-proportioned and extremely fit body, six-two, and looks to match. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Hasn’t he told you?’ Flynn indicted Henry with a sneer, then a double-take as he saw Henry’s face.

Alison gave Henry an accusing look. ‘No, he hasn’t.’

He responded with a wimpy shrug. ‘I haven’t had time — and why would I, anyway?’

Flynn scowled at Henry, but instantly changed his expression to pleasant when Alison looked at him. ‘I’m just here helping out a poorly mate,’ he said, then frowned. ‘So… you two?’ He pointed at them, his finger rocking back and forth.

Alison’s face softened proudly. ‘Yes — us two.’

Flynn wasn’t the best of men to read lovey-dovey body language, but he couldn’t help it in this instance as it was clear that Henry and Alison were very much an item. What he didn’t understand was why they were so brazenly public about it. Flynn thought Henry was married.

‘Oh, right, nice one,’ he said quickly. To Henry he said, ‘What happened to you since I last saw you?’

‘Bumped into a door,’ Henry said shortly, no desire to enter into a discussion with Flynn about anything.

‘No he didn’t,’ Alison said, knowing full well the two men did not rub along nicely. ‘He’s been assaulted.’

‘Well, fancy that.’ Flynn stifled a laugh. ‘Can’t imagine anyone wanting to hit you.’

Henry held Flynn with a one-eyed stare, then said to Alison, ‘Time we were going.’

‘How long are you here for, Steve?’ Alison asked, ignoring him.

‘Not sure. Not long.’

‘If you get the chance, come out to the Owl. Have a meal and a drink and I’ll put you up for the night. All the bedrooms have been refurbished now. They’re really nice.’

‘And the bloodstains wiped up?’

A shadow crossed Alison’s face at the memories evoked by the remark. ‘Yes, they’ve gone,’ she said darkly, then bucked up. ‘Done wonders for trade, actually. Appeals to people’s dark side, I guess. Seeing where murders took place. Anyway… it’d be nice to have a catch-up.’ She placed a kiss on Flynn’s cheek and Flynn saw Henry’s bristling reaction to it, like a male lion being challenged by an upstart. So Flynn returned it with a kiss of his own and gave Henry a smug sideways grin.

Then, to add insult to injury, he said to Alison, ‘I’ll definitely come.’ He gave a quick wave, but Henry stopped him from going.

‘Quick word.’ He edged Flynn out of Alison’s earshot.

‘Is this a warning to steer clear of her?’

‘Not necessary… that woman you dragged out of the water?’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Did you take anything from her?’

Flynn’s face hardened instantly, offended. ‘What are you suggesting?’

‘Did you take any property from her? I’m asking. I’m doing my job — remember?’

Open-mouthed, Flynn said, ‘Do you want the other side of your face to match up?’

‘Just answer the question… did you take anything from her?’

‘How dare you ask me that, Henry? Fuck off!’ He spun away and stalked through the sliding door of the main hospital entrance, furious that Henry had the nerve to ask the question.

Henry watched his back and muttered, ‘He doth protest too much.’

By the time Flynn re-entered earth’s atmosphere, having been flung fuming and furious into orbit by the insinuation of Henry Christie’s question, he had driven the Smart Car all the way back to Glasson Dock. He’d parked outside the chandlery and was halfway through a bar meal at the Victoria, which was accompanied by a very chilled pint of Stella Artois and a Glenfiddich chaser.

The food was good, simple and filling. The lager was excellent, the whisky tremendous… the ideal combination to re-enter from the stratosphere without completely burning up.

It was only as he cleared his plate, sat back and started to sip his second pint and chaser did his emotional temperature start to fall.

Such was the effect Henry Christie had on him. Although Flynn had initially laid most of the blame on Henry for hastening his departure from the force and he had learned the truth of the matter later — that Henry had actually covered up a lot of the incriminating stuff he’d unearthed about Flynn — the damage to their relationship was pretty much done. They just didn’t like each other, never would.

The two men had come into contact a few times in recent years, in situations not compatible with endearing themselves to one another. It didn’t help that when they’d met up in Kendleton, Flynn had thought he’d had a chance at getting something together with Alison. Circumstances and geography dictated otherwise — not least that Alison did not fancy him — but to find Henry walking hand-in-hand with her, like two lurv-struck teenagers, really piqued him. That Henry knew he fancied his chances with Alison and was probably now having a ‘right good chuckle’ to himself, also made him seethe.

He sipped his beer and as he thought about things, he realized his problem went far beyond simple jealousy.

Yes, he was envious of Henry, but what really irked him was his own inability to find and keep someone for himself.

He had been in love once recently, the only time since his acrimonious divorce some years earlier. But it had ended in tragedy and he had been unable to pick up the pieces since.

Now he was starting to get worried about facing a future alone.

The big, rough, tough man of action wanted a serious relationship.

‘Diddums,’ he thought to himself.

What falling in love had taught him — after vowing never to do so after his divorce — was that it was wonderful, confusing, compelling — and something he needed. He thought he could handle being alone, indeed had done so for a few years, but now the prospect of hitting sixty and single frightened the crap out of him, more than swimming with a hammerhead shark.