Lynda Plante: Tennison

Metcalf had obviously seen her as a weak link, but her meeting with him was yet another learning curve. Whether or not she approved didn’t matter, she was in no position to question the outcome Metcalf and the top brass desired, not if she valued her future career. She smiled to herself and thought Kath would also have kept silent.

It was somehow a relief that when she returned to the front desk, Sergeant Harris was his usual blunt self. Pointedly he looked at his wristwatch.

‘I’ll excuse you for not being back here on time, but then of course you were with the top brass. Everything go well with Metcalf?’

‘Yes, Sarge, he mentioned...’

He stood straight and wagged his finger.

‘Don’t want to know. Life goes on, Tennison, that’s all you’ve got to know.’

There seemed to be no way anyone would ever talk about what had happened on that terrible day. No one wanted to show their feelings. Jane found it impossible to share her deep pain, and that was the way it would remain.

Kath’s parents had requested a small personal funeral which was attended by some of the officers she had worked with at the station. They all wore their best uniforms and white gloves, with the detectives in smart suits, white shirts and black ties. It had been a quiet, simple, but moving service and many present had openly cried as Kath had been such a well-liked officer. Jane had forced herself to remain in control of her emotions, but when the organist played ‘Nights In White Satin’ as the service ended, she nearly broke down. She remembered laughing with Kath as she joined in singing the song with Gibbs outside the men’s shower room. She also recalled how Kath had joked with Spencer about playing the same song at her funeral. Seeing Gibbs standing straight-backed, his face etched with pain, Jane knew he was remembering her too. Kath would be hard to forget. Jane had learned so much from her and knew she would always remember her warmth and compassion.

After the service, DS Gibbs introduced Jane to a tall, attractive woman who had been very distressed throughout the funeral service, openly weeping. Gibbs confused Jane as he had referred to the woman as Kath’s partner.

‘She spoke very warmly of you, Jane. It’s nice to meet you.’

‘She was a good friend, I will miss her.’

‘Yes, she was a very special woman.’

Kath had never mentioned her partner and it was some time before Jane realized what their relationship had been. It dawned on her just how little she had really known about Kath’s private life. She now realized Kath’s jovial remarks about good-looking men had been a necessary front to hide her sexuality, from an all too often sexist and homophobic police force.

Gibbs picked up Jane’s puzzled expression although she had covered it quickly.

‘So now you know. I loved that woman, and if she wanted her private life kept that way, that was her business, but there’s one thing I want sorted. The lipstick on the dummy’s gob, when I had to do the first-aid crap, it was bloody Kath, wasn’t it?’

Jane felt the tears welling up and she nodded.

‘I knew it... Christ, I am going to miss her.’

‘Me too, she was getting you back for the Vicks-up-the-nose joke at the post-mortem.’

He turned away, because like Jane, he was near to tears.

Bradfield’s funeral was organized by his widow and Spencer Gibbs. She had chosen the hymns and readings and he had spent hours preparing the eulogy he had been asked, and was honoured, to give. Sergeant Harris and other uniform officers of all ranks lined the streets and as the funeral cortège passed they stood to attention and saluted in their pristine white gloves. Many mourners came from the stations that Bradfield had worked at during his career as well as members of the public, some who didn’t even know him, yet who wanted to pay their respects. Every aisle and pew inside the church was full and officers stood shoulder to shoulder at the back of the church. Bradfield’s coffin was draped in the Metropolitan Police flag and his colleagues, led by DS Gibbs and DS Paul Lawrence, carried the coffin to the altar.

Jane could feel the pit of her stomach twisting as she saw, following behind the coffin, a pretty blonde-haired woman in her late thirties. She was holding the hands of a little boy and girl who walked beside her. Bradfield’s widow wore a well-cut black coat and a wide-brimmed black straw hat that hid her face. The little boy had his father’s red curly hair and the girl had long blonde plaits. They were both dressed in smart clothes and coats, white socks and black patent-leather shoes.

Jane had felt humiliation when she had been told by Bradfield that she was off the team and should go home, and had been deeply hurt when he had said there was no future in their relationship. She had subsequently felt a huge sense of betrayal when she had discovered, after his death, that he was married with children. Now, standing amongst so many police officers, some of whom she had worked with, all Jane could think of was how foolish she had been. How immature and stupid she had been not to have even considered that he was married. He never wore a wedding ring, so she naively assumed he lived in the section house, and she had never seen a photograph on his desk of his wife or children. She wondered why Kath hadn’t told her Bradfield was married. Perhaps in some way she had tried to warn her, or perhaps she just hadn’t wanted to jeopardize her position on the team. Either way, Jane harboured no bad feelings for her friend. She had just never thought to ask if he was married, but now she felt used. He had drawn her to him and made love to her, and she had been infatuated, believing at the time they could have had something special together. She had loved and admired him, but it had been a hard lesson. From now on she felt determined to keep a tight hold on her emotions, and never be drawn into another relationship with a serving police officer. The tragedy had not made her want to quit the force, but a change of direction was something she needed if she wanted to move on in her career. She thought about DCS Metcalf’s encouraging words and decided she would take him up on his offer of a personal recommendation to become a trainee detective on completion of her probation. After all, he owed her that for her loyalty.

Jane stood upright and faced forwards, holding up the order of service. The choir began to sing ‘The Lord’s My Shepherd, I Shall Not Want’. She tried hard, but just couldn’t get the words out and was unaware that tears were streaming down her cheeks. She made no sound as her heart poured out with sorrow. Midway through the hymn Sergeant Harris, who was standing next to her, pulled out a white folded handkerchief from his pocket, which he quietly and unobtrusively passed to her.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and wiped her eyes.

Later as they stood in the graveyard and watched Bradfield’s coffin being lowered into the ground, the police officers present all saluted. As the vicar read out the words of the Committal, ‘Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,’ Bradfield’s widow and two children wept. The children each threw a white rose onto the coffin and then hugged their mother. Jane shed no more tears, but stared straight ahead and gave no indication of how deeply his death had affected her... that he’d broken a little piece of her heart.