feeling is that this isn’t a home-grown problem—it goes back to Hong Kong.’ Becky turned the radio off. She was perking up, the coffee had worked. ‘Were you born here?’
‘No. I am a Hong Konger, a Eurasian—half Chinese, half British. But I spent the best years of my life here, although you know that anyway—you’ve seen my stats.’ He grinned.
‘I only know the official stuff, plus I found out a bit on the grapevine. Micky told me a few interesting facts, he knew all about you. I guess as we are going to be working together for a while I will have plenty of time to fill in the gaps.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ said Mann.
She gave him a sidelong glance and giggled, embarrassed.
‘But, you’re kidding, the best years of your life, really?’
‘School—didn’t you like yours?’
‘Nope…Couldn’t wait to leave.’
‘Where did you grow up?’
‘Islington—where I still live. Bought a flat there three years ago—in Highbury. Went to a local girls’ school—I did okay, but I didn’t enjoy it. I was a sporty kid. We didn’t have the provisions for that in the inner city. I beat all the boys at their school when it came to cricket practice.’
‘I noticed the bowling action with the bun, back in the car park.’
‘Yeah, the trouble is all we ever did was
practice.
I did swim for the borough. I still keep my hand in—still go to the gym, swim a few times a week.’
‘Is that what keeps you sane outside work?’
‘Yes, plus I help out at a youth rehabilitation centre for young addicts and homeless women. I teach self-defence to the women. It’s a major problem for themon the streets. They get attacked all the time, raped. I try to teach them how to diffuse it and, if they can’t, how to defend themselves.’
‘How long have you been in the police force?’
‘Since I left uni. I did a degree in psychology. Then I joined the police force.’
‘Been married long?’
‘Ten years.’
‘What does your husband do? Is he in the force?’
‘Huh! That would never suit him. No, he’s one of those entrepreneurial types; never quite know what he’ll try next. At the moment, amongst a million other things, he is helping out a friend and running a language school. Don’t ask me what the other things are!’
No sticky fingers on the dashboard. The car was tidy
,
neat, uncluttered—no kids
, thought Mann.
‘Actually, Al has a relative in Hong Kong.’
Mann looked at her and grinned.
‘You’re going to ask me if I know him, right?’
She gave that deep chuckle again; she still had a lot of the child left in her, thought Mann.
‘Maybe. And you?’
‘Marriage, you mean? Never felt the need. No kids. No commitment. Better that way.’ Mann closed his eyes for a few seconds and leaned his head back onto the headrest.
Becky put a CD on—a homemade compilation that was a strange mix of dance hits and soul—reggae and Leonard Cohen.
Helen came into Mann’s head. The film of her beingtortured, the sound of her screams. His eyes snapped open.
‘Eclectic tastes,’ he said, nodding in the direction of the sound system.
‘Not mine—my husband Alex’s—he loves Leonard Cohen. I don’t—so miserable. The dance tracks are mine. We are…very different. God knows how we ended up together. Chalk and cheese.’ Her laugh disappeared into the air, ‘So, no wife hidden away? No long-term girlfriend?’ She nodded her head knowingly. ‘A bit of a Jack the lad—obviously.’ She flashed him a mischievous look.
‘I prefer to keep my options open, let’s put it that way. But I have a few ground rules.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Tell me…’
‘No little girls lost. No newly divorced and still bitter. And absolutely
no
married women.’ He grinned at her.
She smiled, despite trying not to, and blushed again.
‘Like I said! Jack the lad.’ She hummed along to Shakira.
They turned through the impressive school gates and followed a narrow winding road that was signposted to
‘No. I am a Hong Konger, a Eurasian—half Chinese, half British. But I spent the best years of my life here, although you know that anyway—you’ve seen my stats.’ He grinned.
‘I only know the official stuff, plus I found out a bit on the grapevine. Micky told me a few interesting facts, he knew all about you. I guess as we are going to be working together for a while I will have plenty of time to fill in the gaps.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ said Mann.
She gave him a sidelong glance and giggled, embarrassed.
‘But, you’re kidding, the best years of your life, really?’
‘School—didn’t you like yours?’
‘Nope…Couldn’t wait to leave.’
‘Where did you grow up?’
‘Islington—where I still live. Bought a flat there three years ago—in Highbury. Went to a local girls’ school—I did okay, but I didn’t enjoy it. I was a sporty kid. We didn’t have the provisions for that in the inner city. I beat all the boys at their school when it came to cricket practice.’
‘I noticed the bowling action with the bun, back in the car park.’
‘Yeah, the trouble is all we ever did was
practice.
I did swim for the borough. I still keep my hand in—still go to the gym, swim a few times a week.’
‘Is that what keeps you sane outside work?’
‘Yes, plus I help out at a youth rehabilitation centre for young addicts and homeless women. I teach self-defence to the women. It’s a major problem for themon the streets. They get attacked all the time, raped. I try to teach them how to diffuse it and, if they can’t, how to defend themselves.’
‘How long have you been in the police force?’
‘Since I left uni. I did a degree in psychology. Then I joined the police force.’
‘Been married long?’
‘Ten years.’
‘What does your husband do? Is he in the force?’
‘Huh! That would never suit him. No, he’s one of those entrepreneurial types; never quite know what he’ll try next. At the moment, amongst a million other things, he is helping out a friend and running a language school. Don’t ask me what the other things are!’
No sticky fingers on the dashboard. The car was tidy
,
neat, uncluttered—no kids
, thought Mann.
‘Actually, Al has a relative in Hong Kong.’
Mann looked at her and grinned.
‘You’re going to ask me if I know him, right?’
She gave that deep chuckle again; she still had a lot of the child left in her, thought Mann.
‘Maybe. And you?’
‘Marriage, you mean? Never felt the need. No kids. No commitment. Better that way.’ Mann closed his eyes for a few seconds and leaned his head back onto the headrest.
Becky put a CD on—a homemade compilation that was a strange mix of dance hits and soul—reggae and Leonard Cohen.
Helen came into Mann’s head. The film of her beingtortured, the sound of her screams. His eyes snapped open.
‘Eclectic tastes,’ he said, nodding in the direction of the sound system.
‘Not mine—my husband Alex’s—he loves Leonard Cohen. I don’t—so miserable. The dance tracks are mine. We are…very different. God knows how we ended up together. Chalk and cheese.’ Her laugh disappeared into the air, ‘So, no wife hidden away? No long-term girlfriend?’ She nodded her head knowingly. ‘A bit of a Jack the lad—obviously.’ She flashed him a mischievous look.
‘I prefer to keep my options open, let’s put it that way. But I have a few ground rules.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Tell me…’
‘No little girls lost. No newly divorced and still bitter. And absolutely
no
married women.’ He grinned at her.
She smiled, despite trying not to, and blushed again.
‘Like I said! Jack the lad.’ She hummed along to Shakira.
They turned through the impressive school gates and followed a narrow winding road that was signposted to
Similar Books
