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Authors: Lena Foxworth
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it landed at my feet.
“I’m sorry, we’re still getting the hang of-”
I looked up, and there was Mason, standing directly in front of me, bending to pick up the machine.
“Nicole. What are you doing here?”
A million excuses flashed though my brain. I live nearby. I always walk here. I bought a dog and it ran away. Before I could pick one, my traitorous heart had taken over.
“I miss you,” I said.
“Nicole!” Damon yelled, running over to fling his arms around me. “Daddy bought me a helicopter! Have you come to fly it with us?”
“I- no, love. I was just…”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Damon. Go and see if there’s any ducks in the pond. If there is, we could get some bread and feed them,” Mason said. Damon immediately rushed off to check.
“Thanks,” I said, staring at my feet.
“You miss me?” Mason said quietly.
I couldn’t look at him. But I could see his hand come into view, moving towards mine. Slowly, hesitantly. I reached out, just a fraction, and wrapped my fingers around his, still unable to look at him, still unable to think about what was happening.
“I missed you too,” he said.
“Hey! Hey you!”
The voice was loud, too loud, and it broke the spell. We both looked up, still holding hands. A man was staggering towards Mason, clutching a can of Special Brew. He looked homeless. One of Terry’s guys? Unlikely. Terry’s men were rough around the edges, but they didn’t look like actual tramps. “I know you!” the man yelled again as he reached us.
“I don’t think so, mate,” Mason said, in a forbidding tone.
“Not you, dickhead,” the tramp slurred. “Her. PC Mills.”
My blood turned to ice.
“I think you’re mistaken,” Mason said.
“I’m not,” the tramp said indignantly. “I never forget a face, especially a beautiful one like hers. I was at Crompton Street nick when she came in, looking all fancy in her jeans and t-shirt. She was there for a meeting. She’s a copper. PC Mills.”
He beamed proudly.
I turned to Mason.
“I’m not-”
But it was no good. I could see it on his face and feel it on mine. We both knew that the tramp was telling the truth.
I dropped his hand and ran.
Mason
I could see it on her face - right before she broke and ran. It was the truth - she was police. I turned to the tramp.
“Tell me everything, everything that you can remember about meeting PC Mills,” I said.
“I’ll try,” he said ponderously. “I’m just a bit distracted at the moment. Don’t know where me next meal’s coming from, you see.”
I shoved a note in his grimy hand without even looking at it.
“Thanks, guv! I was at the station with my mate Tommo. That fat pig was on the desk, and he said that she had a very nice woman’s body under the stab vest. She wasn’t wearing a stab vest, though. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”
I walked away without even bothering to reply. She wasn’t just a copper, the treacherous bitch. She was undercover. And that meant only one thing. I wasn’t her boyfriend, I had never been her boyfriend. I was her target. Fuck!
“There is ducks, Daddy!” Damon said breathlessly.
“Okay, mate. We’ll get some bread. But first we need to run an errand, okay?”
I was already dialling Terry’s number as I spoke.
“Mason,” he said. “Come though. This your little lad?”
“I’m Damon, and this is my dad,” Damon said.
“Well, Damon, how would you like to sit up at the bar there and help Andrea count the straws, while I have a chat with your dad? There’s a bag of crisps and an orange juice in it for you!”
“Can I, Dad?” he pleaded.
“Sure,” I said. “Be a good boy for Andrea. I’m only through here.”
“He’ll be fine,” said Andrea, the middle-aged barmaid. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
I followed Terry though to the back room.
“There’s no easy way to break this to you, Terry,” I began.
His eyes narrowed. “Go on, son.”
“Nicole - the posh
“I’m sorry, we’re still getting the hang of-”
I looked up, and there was Mason, standing directly in front of me, bending to pick up the machine.
“Nicole. What are you doing here?”
A million excuses flashed though my brain. I live nearby. I always walk here. I bought a dog and it ran away. Before I could pick one, my traitorous heart had taken over.
“I miss you,” I said.
“Nicole!” Damon yelled, running over to fling his arms around me. “Daddy bought me a helicopter! Have you come to fly it with us?”
“I- no, love. I was just…”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Damon. Go and see if there’s any ducks in the pond. If there is, we could get some bread and feed them,” Mason said. Damon immediately rushed off to check.
“Thanks,” I said, staring at my feet.
“You miss me?” Mason said quietly.
I couldn’t look at him. But I could see his hand come into view, moving towards mine. Slowly, hesitantly. I reached out, just a fraction, and wrapped my fingers around his, still unable to look at him, still unable to think about what was happening.
“I missed you too,” he said.
“Hey! Hey you!”
The voice was loud, too loud, and it broke the spell. We both looked up, still holding hands. A man was staggering towards Mason, clutching a can of Special Brew. He looked homeless. One of Terry’s guys? Unlikely. Terry’s men were rough around the edges, but they didn’t look like actual tramps. “I know you!” the man yelled again as he reached us.
“I don’t think so, mate,” Mason said, in a forbidding tone.
“Not you, dickhead,” the tramp slurred. “Her. PC Mills.”
My blood turned to ice.
“I think you’re mistaken,” Mason said.
“I’m not,” the tramp said indignantly. “I never forget a face, especially a beautiful one like hers. I was at Crompton Street nick when she came in, looking all fancy in her jeans and t-shirt. She was there for a meeting. She’s a copper. PC Mills.”
He beamed proudly.
I turned to Mason.
“I’m not-”
But it was no good. I could see it on his face and feel it on mine. We both knew that the tramp was telling the truth.
I dropped his hand and ran.
Mason
I could see it on her face - right before she broke and ran. It was the truth - she was police. I turned to the tramp.
“Tell me everything, everything that you can remember about meeting PC Mills,” I said.
“I’ll try,” he said ponderously. “I’m just a bit distracted at the moment. Don’t know where me next meal’s coming from, you see.”
I shoved a note in his grimy hand without even looking at it.
“Thanks, guv! I was at the station with my mate Tommo. That fat pig was on the desk, and he said that she had a very nice woman’s body under the stab vest. She wasn’t wearing a stab vest, though. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”
I walked away without even bothering to reply. She wasn’t just a copper, the treacherous bitch. She was undercover. And that meant only one thing. I wasn’t her boyfriend, I had never been her boyfriend. I was her target. Fuck!
“There is ducks, Daddy!” Damon said breathlessly.
“Okay, mate. We’ll get some bread. But first we need to run an errand, okay?”
I was already dialling Terry’s number as I spoke.
“Mason,” he said. “Come though. This your little lad?”
“I’m Damon, and this is my dad,” Damon said.
“Well, Damon, how would you like to sit up at the bar there and help Andrea count the straws, while I have a chat with your dad? There’s a bag of crisps and an orange juice in it for you!”
“Can I, Dad?” he pleaded.
“Sure,” I said. “Be a good boy for Andrea. I’m only through here.”
“He’ll be fine,” said Andrea, the middle-aged barmaid. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
I followed Terry though to the back room.
“There’s no easy way to break this to you, Terry,” I began.
His eyes narrowed. “Go on, son.”
“Nicole - the posh
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