control.
The tarmac is starting to heat up, and even this early in the morning is becoming sticky. My slip-on shoes graze at the back of my heels as I hurry along it. I’m hoping that he’ll be alone. That it’s early enough for me to catch him on the tail of a night shift. I duck in through the doors of the hospital lobby, feeling the gasp of air conditioning, and the first thing that I see is a gun, staring me right in the face. I start, my heart racing for a moment. Then my gaze tracks up, and I see the firearms uniform: Tony, his face set into a heavy frown as he looks at me. I smile, even though I have a sneaking suspicion he doesn’t like me. Rhys stands behind him and I give him a nod, my face flushing slightly, even though I am fully aware that this is ridiculous. He is terribly young, but God, the kid is good-looking.
‘All right, guys?’
Rhys flushes as if I’ve just asked him to strip naked and dance a tango with me. Tony shrugs, a heavy movement that leads to the artillery shifting. ‘Supposed to have finished an hour ago, but no. Bloody bosses want one more sweep. Got to be back in again by six this evening for training too, don’t we?’ He gives me a sharp look. ‘Don’t go putting that in your paper, mind.’
I suppress a sigh. If only the mundanities of people’s lives were as interesting as the people themselves thought they were. ‘Scout’s honour, Tone. Well, hope you guys get to finish soon.’
Rhys mumbles something that I miss, and turns sharply away, heavy boots scuffing loudly against the linoleum floor. I suppress a smile, turning into a service stairwell. It is quiet down here, industrial and cool. But then I suppose it is an area few people have cause to visit. I pull open the door to the basement, slip inside the long narrow corridor. The security office is the third door on the right.
I know before I get there that I am right, that he is still here, hasn’t gone home yet. Kenny Rogers croons, the music set low but inescapable. I rap smartly on the door, duck my head around without giving him time to answer, the fleeting and uncomfortable thought occurring to me that one day I’m going to catch someone naked if I keep doing that.
But Ernie is not naked, thank God. He is sitting in an office chair, one that looks like it is struggling to support his weight, is leaning back so that his head is almost lost behind the belly on him, and I wonder if I have woken him. He has that look about him, that vague sleepiness as his eyes struggle to focus on me. I grin, give him a small wave, trying not to let my face know my thoughts. That he looks old today, older than I have seen him before.
‘Well, young Charlotte. Now this is a pleasure.’ Ernie pushes himself up in his chair, the movement straining the fabric on his shirt so that it seems impossible the buttons will hold, and runs his fingers through his grey hair. I smile at the vanity of it. His fingers finish their work and the hair stands further up on end than ever it did before. ‘Come in, good girl, come in.’
I move around the door, leaning to avoid the dachshund calendar. Ernie loves dachshunds. ‘Do you ever go home, Ernie?’
He gives a rough bark of a laugh. ‘Now then, you know how it is here. Thin blue line, that’s me.’ He glances down at the mound of his belly. ‘Well, thick blue line.’
I fish in my bag. ‘I brought you a present.’
He grins, catches with one hand the chocolate digestives I throw him. ‘Aw, Charlie, love. How did you know?’
‘I know everything, Ern. It’s my job.’
He pushes a second chair towards me with his foot, the lion’s share of his attention caught on unwrapping the biscuits, freeing the top one from its cover. He studies it for a moment, the way a wine connoisseur would study a fine vintage, and then eats it in two swift bites. ‘Ah, tha’s good. Yourself?’
I wave away the proffered packet. ‘Got to watch my waistline. How am I going to catch myself a husband
The tarmac is starting to heat up, and even this early in the morning is becoming sticky. My slip-on shoes graze at the back of my heels as I hurry along it. I’m hoping that he’ll be alone. That it’s early enough for me to catch him on the tail of a night shift. I duck in through the doors of the hospital lobby, feeling the gasp of air conditioning, and the first thing that I see is a gun, staring me right in the face. I start, my heart racing for a moment. Then my gaze tracks up, and I see the firearms uniform: Tony, his face set into a heavy frown as he looks at me. I smile, even though I have a sneaking suspicion he doesn’t like me. Rhys stands behind him and I give him a nod, my face flushing slightly, even though I am fully aware that this is ridiculous. He is terribly young, but God, the kid is good-looking.
‘All right, guys?’
Rhys flushes as if I’ve just asked him to strip naked and dance a tango with me. Tony shrugs, a heavy movement that leads to the artillery shifting. ‘Supposed to have finished an hour ago, but no. Bloody bosses want one more sweep. Got to be back in again by six this evening for training too, don’t we?’ He gives me a sharp look. ‘Don’t go putting that in your paper, mind.’
I suppress a sigh. If only the mundanities of people’s lives were as interesting as the people themselves thought they were. ‘Scout’s honour, Tone. Well, hope you guys get to finish soon.’
Rhys mumbles something that I miss, and turns sharply away, heavy boots scuffing loudly against the linoleum floor. I suppress a smile, turning into a service stairwell. It is quiet down here, industrial and cool. But then I suppose it is an area few people have cause to visit. I pull open the door to the basement, slip inside the long narrow corridor. The security office is the third door on the right.
I know before I get there that I am right, that he is still here, hasn’t gone home yet. Kenny Rogers croons, the music set low but inescapable. I rap smartly on the door, duck my head around without giving him time to answer, the fleeting and uncomfortable thought occurring to me that one day I’m going to catch someone naked if I keep doing that.
But Ernie is not naked, thank God. He is sitting in an office chair, one that looks like it is struggling to support his weight, is leaning back so that his head is almost lost behind the belly on him, and I wonder if I have woken him. He has that look about him, that vague sleepiness as his eyes struggle to focus on me. I grin, give him a small wave, trying not to let my face know my thoughts. That he looks old today, older than I have seen him before.
‘Well, young Charlotte. Now this is a pleasure.’ Ernie pushes himself up in his chair, the movement straining the fabric on his shirt so that it seems impossible the buttons will hold, and runs his fingers through his grey hair. I smile at the vanity of it. His fingers finish their work and the hair stands further up on end than ever it did before. ‘Come in, good girl, come in.’
I move around the door, leaning to avoid the dachshund calendar. Ernie loves dachshunds. ‘Do you ever go home, Ernie?’
He gives a rough bark of a laugh. ‘Now then, you know how it is here. Thin blue line, that’s me.’ He glances down at the mound of his belly. ‘Well, thick blue line.’
I fish in my bag. ‘I brought you a present.’
He grins, catches with one hand the chocolate digestives I throw him. ‘Aw, Charlie, love. How did you know?’
‘I know everything, Ern. It’s my job.’
He pushes a second chair towards me with his foot, the lion’s share of his attention caught on unwrapping the biscuits, freeing the top one from its cover. He studies it for a moment, the way a wine connoisseur would study a fine vintage, and then eats it in two swift bites. ‘Ah, tha’s good. Yourself?’
I wave away the proffered packet. ‘Got to watch my waistline. How am I going to catch myself a husband
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