Just Another Day - Clark Steven (читаем книги бесплатно .TXT) 📗
Johnson had allowed Dave to take the painkillers and, together with the food that he was greedily consuming, the effects were beginning to lessen his weakness. The fuzziness in his brain was starting to clear as the water rehydrated him and replenished a little of the fluid loss.
He tied a large field dressing type bandage around his left hand and discarded his tunic on the floor of the wagon. The fabric was saturated and couldn’t absorb any more fluid; It was literally dripping and Dave realised that over the last hour or so, he had lost a substantial amount of blood. He hoped that by eating and drinking as much as his captor would allow, he might be able to regain some energy. He knew his ordeal was a long way from being over. His stomach ached from the retching earlier when he had watched the gunman chewing on his finger, but he was determined to force down as much as possible. He had seen how quickly Johnson’s mood could change from relative calmness to outright rage and brutality and he didn’t know when he would be allowed to eat again.
He was well aware by now that Sergeant Chambers would have spoken to Mandy and told her that he had been kidnapped and he hoped that the news had not filtered through to the twins. Mandy was strong, but he prayed that she was not aware of the full circumstances of his ordeal. Of course they would have told her, but he hoped they would have played it down a bit. Yes she was strong, hard headed even on occasions but, when it came to her family and any pain they might be in, she was as vulnerable as any loving wife and mother.
She liked Dave’s Sergeant, Bob Chambers, and they had enjoyed the Section Nights out when she had seen the jovial sergeant keeping an eye on his brood of young officers. ‘Sergeant Bob’ as she called him affectionately, had taken quite a shine to Dave’s lovely wife in an innocent, fatherly way, and he would laugh at the ‘do’s, when she would drag the protesting Sergeant onto the dance floor for a quick jive and he would end the dance, hobbling away from the floor complaining about his arthritic hip, holding his heart and shouting to Dave, ‘If I was twenty years younger, sunshine, I’d sweep your missus of her feet. You wouldn’t stand a chance mate.’
Dave would retort, ‘Aye boss, she’s always had a thing about older men, or in your case, much, much older men.’
‘Cheeky young bugger’ Bob would mutter as he headed for the bar and a refill of his pint pot. Whenever there was a new addition to the block, Bob would go out of his way to organise a night out at the Police Club to ensure he or she settled in with the other officers. Buying the first round of drinks, which always went down well with the troops; and then settling back to see how the evening developed. He liked to see them mature into fine police officers over the years, giving advice when required and severe reprimands when needed. All his officers knew that he would back them to the hilt when they needed him, provided that they had acted in good faith and with the right intentions, but woe betide any one who tried to pull the wool over his eyes as he would bollock them up hill and down dale until he made them see sense. One of his many expressions would be, ‘Now, remember lad, don’t turn an honest mistake into a dishonest one.’ He would then go on to explain, usually over a cup of tea or a beer, how it was always better to throw your hands up, and admit when you had made a mistake.
‘Everybody makes mistakes, its all part of the learning curve son, But, if you make an honest mistake, and then try to hide it and start telling porkies, you end up in a right old mess. Honest mistake lad, freely admitted. That’s the way forward. No one wants to hang any body out to dry son; we’ve all been there, even old bastards like me. Now, sup up, and you can buy me another pint.’
Dave wondered how he had broken the news; he knew it would be gently, he also knew that Bob would be hurting too.
She wasn’t unduly worried when the ‘phone rang just after eight o’clock as although Dave usually rang if he was going to be home late, sometimes it wasn’t possible if he was in the middle of taking a witness Statement from someone or stuck with a prisoner in the Custody Suite and couldn’t get to a telephone. Sometimes, ‘Sergeant Bob’ would ring saying he was going to be late or one of the lads on the Section would keep her informed so she wasn’t phased when she saw the familiar police station number show up on the caller identity facility on the telephone display.
As soon as he said, “Hello Mandy, Bob here,” she knew this was not an ordinary call. She recognised his voice as soon as he began to speak; she also recognised the slight crack in his voice instantly. Before he could say anything else, she cut across him.
‘Bob, just tell me. If its bad news, don’t go round the houses. Tell me straight; please. Just say it straight out.’ There was a momentary silence as Bob decided how to tell her. How on earth could he tell someone he thought of as a daughter that her husband had been taken prisoner by a madman with a shotgun?
‘Is he dead Bob? Please just say it if he is.’
‘No. Love, he’s not dead but it is a serious situation. I’m on my way round to the house now but I didn’t want to just turn up in the police car without warning.’
Mandy’s knees were buckling, her body couldn’t hold her up and she sat heavily on the stool next to the phone. ‘Is it an accident Bob? Has he had an accident on the way home? Has he had a car crash?’
‘No’. said Bob. ‘He’s involved in a serious incident and he’s been taken hostage in a wagon. I don’t want to say too much over the phone love. I’ll be at the house in fifteen minutes. Get the kettle on and you can make me one of your special cups of tea, nice and sweet, just like us eh?’ He couldn’t help it, it was just part of his nature to try and lighten the atmosphere whenever he was the bearer of sad or traumatic news. ‘Two rounds of toast wouldn’t go amiss either sweetheart. See you soon.’
‘Okay Bob. Two cups of tea and a round of toast. Yeah. See you in a few minutes.’ Her mind was racing and confused as she tried to take in what ‘Dad’ had told her. The girls came bounding down the stairs.
‘Mum, Mum. It’s my turn to sit in the front today isn’t it?’ said Sophie. ‘Susie said it’s her turn but it’s not. It’s me; she sat in the front yesterday.’
‘What’s the matter Mum?’ said Susie, ‘you’ve got your sad face on. Have you done it again Mum? Have you burnt Dads toast again?’ Susie was standing on the first stair looking over the banister at her Mums sagging shoulders, and looking as though she was about to burst into tears. This wasn’t a burnt toast face, this was something much more. They both came and knelt gently in front of her. ‘What’s the matter Mum?’ they said in unison. ‘Are you not feeling well? Is it that time of the month again mum?’ Each placed a hand gently on her tummy. ‘We’ll make it better’ said Sophie as they both gently rubbed their hands in a circular motion.
Mandy looked at each of her beautiful daughters in turn and smiled weakly. She never ceased to be amazed at how they so very often spoke in stereo as though each of them knew what the other was going to say. She wondered how on earth she was going to explain to them that Dad was in a bit of bother at the moment and she decided that until she knew a lot more about Dave’s situation, she wouldn’t say anything for the time being. They’d find out soon enough, no point in them being worried all day at school. In fact, she knew they wouldn’t go to school if they thought their dad was in pain, they would have to be alongside her waiting for news.
‘You’re right my little loves, I feel a bit under the weather today. Grab your bits and bobs and I’ll give your Nana a ring. She can take you to school today. Okay?’
‘Okay mum,’ said Sophie. ‘But we’ll make you some tea and toast before we go,’ said Susie. ‘You phone nana, mum, and we’ll sort out our lunch boxes. Okay chuck?’
