Opening Words

1. The Ninth Day before Christmas

‘What’s up? Are you OK?’ Peter stepped back to allow his unexpected visitor to enter.

‘Yes. I’m fine.’ Trainee Police Constable Stella Gilbert nodded perfunctorily and looked up at Peter with a weak smile. Then she bowed her head and shielded her face from his gaze by putting up her hand to remove her uniform hat. ‘It’s just Inspector Burton told me to go home, but if I’m back before the end of my shift Gran will want to know why and I …,’ she sniffed and wiped her arm across her face. ‘I don’t want her to …’

Peter stared in dismay as she seemed about to break down in tears. He put out his arm towards her, shepherding her past the old-fashioned oak hall stand, gaily decorated with tinsel and fairy lights in recognition of the season, and down the passage towards the kitchen.

‘Come in here and sit down and-’

‘Granddad!’ A small child emerged from a room on the left, ran down the hall and took hold of Peter round one leg. ‘Come back and play!’

‘Not now, Ricky,’ Peter told him gently. ‘We’ve got a visitor. Go and get Abigail and come into the kitchen. We’re all going to have a drink and a biscuit. How’s that?’

‘A chocolate biscuit?’ ask Ricky, hopefully.

‘That’s right,’ Peter nodded, ‘a chocolate biscuit. But don’t let on to Mummy,’ he added conspiratorially, putting his fingers to his lips to signify silence. ‘She told me you eat too much chocolate.’

Ricky stared back with a glare of disapproval on his small brown face. Stella smiled in spite of her distress.

‘I agree with you Ricky,’ she told him. ‘I don’t see how anyone can have too much chocolate!’

Peter led the way into the kitchen. He filled the kettle at the sink and left it to boil while he searched in a wall cupboard for the biscuits. Stella sat down at the large wooden table and put her hat down in front of her. A scuffling at the door announced the arrival of Ricky and his younger sister Abigail.

Stella turned to look at them. They made an odd pair. Ricky’s dark skin, brown eyes and frizzy black hair contrasted starkly with his sister’s ginger mop and pale pink cheeks. She stood in the doorway watching the newcomer with wondering green eyes. In her experience, guests often brought presents, especially at this time of the year.

Ricky climbed up on to the chair next to Stella’s and sat watching his grandfather expectantly, with his elbows planted firmly on the table and his hands ready for the promised treat. Abigail toddled in after him and came to a stop holding on to Stella’s chair, looking up hopefully into her face. Stella, smiling kindly, bent down and lifted her on to her lap.

Peter handed a chocolate covered biscuit to each of the children and then put down the packet on the table, within Stella’s reach but far enough from Ricky that he would not be able to help himself to more. He poured water into a large brown teapot and set it down on the table along with two mugs and a jug of milk. Then he took a seat opposite Stella and looked her in the eye.

‘Now tell me what this is all about,’ he urged gently.

‘It – it was horrible,’ Stella began. Then she stopped and took a bite out of her biscuit. Peter poured the tea without speaking and pushed one of the mugs towards her.

‘It’s PC Hughes,’ Stella resumed. ‘This car just ran him down.’

‘Gavin?’ Peter exclaimed in alarm, dropping his biscuit in his tea and hastily fishing it out with a spoon.

‘No,’ Stella shook her head vigorously, ‘not Gavin. I meant Kenny. You know – Kenny Hughes. Gavin’s his dad. I never thought before; I suppose they’re both PC Hughes. I’m paired with him at the moment. He’s been really good at letting me get more experience.’

‘Does Gavin know about it?’ Peter demanded, leaning anxiously across the table towards Stella. ‘How badly hurt is Kenny?’

‘I don’t know,’ Stella replied miserably. ‘The ambulance took him off to A and E. He was still breathing, but he looked bad – sort of the wrong colour, if you know what I mean. I suppose Inspector Burton will have told Gavin – I never thought of that. She said I looked shaken up and I ought to go home and rest, but I want to know how Kenny is and I don’t want Gran to know about it.’ Then, seeing Peter looking at her, she added, ‘at least not yet.’

‘OK.’ Peter sat back again and picked up his mug. ‘Drink your tea and tell me about it from the beginning.’