Sheelagh at least knew what she was trying to do, though she also knew her logic was broken somewhat. Ignoring the spectre of the baby looming large on the horizon had become steadily more difficult over the last couple of weeks. It wasn't just that physically she felt different. Sure, the morning sickness had taken its toll and if any of the constables under her command ever tried to pull a stunt like keeping their pregnancy secret she'd come down on them like a ton of bricks. She knew she should tell Inspector Gold the truth but, really, the prospect of being grounded at the station was more than she could bear. She was having enough difficulty dealing with temporary restrictions on movement thanks to accidentally releasing Martin Delaney the other day. The fact that they hadn't yet caught the man was making her nervous as well. He was a real psycho from what she'd heard and she wasn't sure how she'd be able to forgive herself if he hurt somebody else. She knew that it wasn't completely her fault but she also knew that in her head it didn't work like that – she liked to take responsibility for her actions, even if she wasn't exactly doing a good job of that across the board at the moment.
Putting off telling Patrick about the baby was cowardly of her. As soon as she'd done the maths she'd realised he couldn't possibly be the father. Hiding away from that reality was the only thing she could think of to do. Des didn't want her – even if she had any notions about setting up a life with him – and she couldn't expect Patrick to knowingly raise another man's child. It would be a betrayal of their marriage, a betrayal of her love for him. It was only recently that she'd become aware how much that love had faded but that still didn't excuse what she'd done, nor did it discount their twenty-three years together. Once she accepted the baby into her mind she'd be forced to tell Patrick the truth. That was why she was living one day at a time and trying to avoid the inevitable. That was also why she'd refused to confide in anyone who might force her hand.
Admitting to June that she was pregnant – and then that the baby might not be Patrick's – was stupid of her, but it was still a relatively safe way of unburdening herself, even if June had accidentally clued Patrick in on the fact that he was going to be a father for the fourth time, much to his delight. Unlike Gina, June couldn't put her on restricted duties. Sure, she might threaten to reveal her pregnancy but Sheelagh hoped she could deflect for some time yet. The reasons she didn't want to tell Patrick, Des and Gina were clear-cut – she couldn't say the same about her impulse to keep Sam in the dark.
The last few weeks had been difficult. She'd almost admitted the truth on several occasions, most notably when Sam had given her a lift home after Polly's arrest. It had been the close proximity, the intimacy of the car in the darkness, not to mention the absurdity of ABBA accompanying them through Canley. In that moment she could almost have said it, but the moment was lost. However, Sam's words before she left the car had touched her more than she could say. By reminding her that she'd only lied about Glenn because she wasn't ready to admit the truth she'd tacitly offered her forgiveness for whatever Sheelagh was keeping from her and promising to be there when she was finally ready. It was a mark of how hard Sam was trying to maintain their friendship that she wasn't pressing the issue. Part of Sheelagh wished she would, though she didn't know how she'd react to any sustained questioning. She was feeling so unsettled lately that it was most likely her hormones would take over and she'd end up losing the woman who had unexpectedly become her most valued friend. That was another reason for keeping quiet, however much like a pressure-cooker she was feeling these days.
It had been two days since the accidental release of Martin Delaney and today Sheelagh was posted on the front desk. Interacting with the members of the public who came into reception was taxing to the extreme in her current state. More than once she actually thought she'd throw up on someone but the feeling passed, usually when the member of the public themselves actually walked out of the door. She thought herself a very calm and reasoned person as a rule – the pregnancy was playing havoc with her reactions as much as anything else.
Mid-morning, a new face dropped his elbows on the front desk. He was black, a little stocky, the kind of eyes that could undress you from a mile off. Her stomach somersaulted again as she realised that the reason she recognised the traits so rapidly was because they reminded her of Des.
'Well, hello,' the new arrival said. 'And who might you be?'
She sighed. 'I think that's my line, sir. What can I do for you?'
'Quite a lot, I'd imagine.' Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a warrant card. 'DC Rob Thatcher, it's my first day.'
'Ah, nice to meet you,' she said. 'How are you settling in?'
He scratched his neck. 'I'm seeing lots of plus sides.'
'I bet.' She paused. 'Was there something specific you wanted?'
'Oh, erm, I forgot the door code,' he answered. 'Could you let me back in?'
After compiling, she shuddered and mentally tried to cleanse herself following a few moments under his inspection. Around twenty minutes later she received a piece of evidence to be passed on to Samantha Nixon. Recognising it would easier to run it up there herself, she left the desk for five minutes and went up to CID. DC Thatcher's eyes lit up and she grimaced as she walked straight past him and through Sam's open doorway. Glancing over her shoulder, she found that his eyes had followed her in here so she unceremoniously shut the door, much to Sam's bemusement.
'Problem?' she asked, dropping her pen.
Sheelagh indicated over her shoulder. 'The new guy's a bit full-on, isn't he?'
Chuckling, Sam replied, 'Oh, you've met, have you? Yeah, he's always thought of himself as a bit of a womanizer.'
'You know him then?' Sheelagh questioned.
Sam glanced down at her desk, a red glow creeping over her cheeks. 'He used to be my DS before he got himself into a bit of trouble. He's...an acquired taste. If there's a job to be done he'll get someone else to do it for him and if you ever accept a report from it, check he hasn't mixed the suspect up with the victim.'
Sheelagh couldn't suppress her snort, though she was wondering about the obvious undertone here. She could safely assume there'd been something between the two of them in the past, even if she doubted it had been anything serious from either perspective. Sam had once told her that her relationships had only ever been casual and it was something she believed without hesitation. The way Sam kept herself aloof from everyone else was palpable. Sheelagh counted herself as one of the lucky few, despite the fact that being in Samantha Nixon's confidence was a minefield sometimes.
'This came for you,' Sheelagh said, suddenly remembering why she'd come upstairs and handing the envelope across. 'Thought you might want it straight away.'
'You're a star, thank you,' answered Sam. 'I've been expecting this.'
Sheelagh smiled and braced herself to pass through the main office again. 'I'd better get back to the front desk,' she said.
Sam just nodded and Sheelagh ran the gauntlet of the new DC's appraising gaze to make her way downstairs again. Once there she was faced with the same eclectic mix of the public that she'd been subjected to all morning. It was hardly getting any easier. One of the perils of declaring her pregnancy to Inspector Gold was that she was going to be put on the front desk for the next five months – she wasn't sure she could handle that without going mad. She was already petrified that Des would take the opportunity to torment her on here – it was lucky he'd been out of the station so far today and was hopefully going to remain in the area car for the foreseeable future.
A little while later she noticed Sam and Rob on their way out of the station. Seeing her, Sam doubled back and leaned against the desk.
'Do you want a laugh?' she questioned.
Sheelagh raised an eyebrow. 'What have you done this time?'
'Oi,' Sam replied with a good-natured smile. 'I had Phil in my office earlier, ranting about Rob. He was complaining about how irritating and smug he is. When I had the temerity to ask whether that reminded him of anyone, he answered that he was always professional. I'm just wondering if the four horsemen of the apocalypse rode through here when I wasn't looking.'
Though it was tricky, Sheelagh tried to suppress her amusement. 'I might've mistaken them, we've had a few drunks in here already today.'
Grinning, Sam briefly squeezed her arm then followed DC Thatcher outside. Sheelagh watched the interaction between them with interest before they disappeared out of sight and she was forced to pay more attention to her paperwork than she would've liked.
After a few more hours on the front desk she was granted the reprieve of time in her office to actually focus on the files she'd been trying to work on for most of the day. It was from the vantage point of her desk that she saw Sam fly past the window from the direction of custody, her hand clapped over her mouth.
Immediately, Sheelagh rose and followed the figure to the logical conclusion of the bathroom. She found Sam leaning over the sink looking thoroughly green. Approaching her, Sheelagh rested a hand on her lower back.
'Hey,' she murmured, 'are you okay?'
Sam took a long breath and glanced over her shoulder. 'I'm sorry. I managed to hold it together until we got back to the nick but...' Once more, she pressed her hand to her mouth then mastered her nausea and lowered it. 'What is it with people chopping up bodies lately? I mean, we had that med student stealing body parts from the hospital and throwing them in the river.'
'And posting them to people,' Sheelagh replied with a grimace. 'I had one delivered here in a holdall.' When Sam turned a funny colour again, she went on, 'Sorry, that wasn't helpful. What happened?'
'We found an ice box in a ventilation shaft containing a severed head and hands,' Sam said. 'They threw the rest of the body in the river but they wanted to avoid identification.'
Sheelagh grimaced and rubbed circles on her spine. 'I dread to think how many bodies are floating around that riverbed. Are you going to be okay?'
Nodding, Sam murmured, 'I just needed a minute. I didn't want to throw up in CID, not with Phil watching my every move.'
'Fair enough,' Sheelagh answered. As Sam straightened up, she let her hand drop to her side. 'Nice to see the reminder that you're human though,' she added to lighten the mood.
'Don't get used to it,' Sam warned, that old warmth returning to her eyes. 'I'd better go remind Rob that he has to actually write this up, whether he likes it or not.'
'I'll see you,' Sheelagh said softly.
Sam pressed their hands together as she left then the door swung closed and Sheelagh abruptly felt alone again. It was funny that when she was with Sam she forgot the fact that she was three months pregnant with Des's child. She missed the ease that their conversations inspired in her, though she recognised there was still an edge to them that came from her dishonesty. At some point in the future that would have to be remedied, even if she still couldn't picture it happening.
That night was a strange one. Patrick was in one of his rare quiet moods and, for a fleeting moment, she wondered if he might have some inkling of what she was keeping from him. It didn't take her long to realise it was just typical Patrick stuff – he sometimes got this way and she was best just leaving him to emerge by himself. At least the kids were at the age where they didn't really notice because they were in their rooms doing the same thing. It gave her quite a bit of time to sit and think and that was the last thing she wanted at the moment so the night turned out to be a difficult one all round.
The next morning she was posted on the front desk again. She was mildly irritated about it but the public seemed inclined to give Sun Hill a wide berth today. The number of drunks and irate victims who passed through the doors seemed less than average so it gave her time to concentrate on her paperwork – or, rather, Smithy's paperwork since he seemed to be making the most of her being restricted to the station.
Not long after ten o'clock the door to the corridor opened and Sam walked in looking more pensive than Sheelagh had seen her since she'd investigated Polly Page. Instantly alert, she crossed to meet her.
'What's going on?' she asked. 'Are you okay?'
Sam glanced around then guided her to the back of the office, well out of earshot from anybody hovering around the desk.
'As far as confidentiality goes, this is breaking every rule,' Sam said. 'I could lose my job for telling you this.'
Sheelagh gripped her fingers. 'For what? What's wrong?'
Sam brought her free hand up to massage her forehead. 'I thought you had a right to know. If it all comes out – and these things usually do – I don't want you blindsided.'
'You're scaring me now,' Sheelagh said.
Sighing, Sam muttered, 'Mickey caught up with Martin Delaney the other day. Or, rather, Delaney caught up with him. He lured Mickey into a trap and...and he raped him.'
Sheelagh's hand shot up to her mouth. 'No...'
'I know,' said Sam, squeezing her fingers until they went numb. 'It isn't your fault, Sheelagh. I need you to believe that.'
'I let that animal back out on the streets,' she answered. Her stomach was swirling again, a horrible combination of morning sickness and guilt that made her lean almost imperceptibly towards Sam.
'That doesn't make you responsible for what he did,' Sam replied.
'You wouldn't be telling me this if you didn't blame me,' Sheelagh pointed out.
Sam shook her head and stepped closer. 'The reason I'm telling you is because I know you'll blame yourself. I wanted to give you time to acclimatise to the news before it's out there for public consumption.'
Studying her face, Sheelagh believed that in an instant. 'Thank you.' She hesitated. 'How's Mickey?'
'Refusing to report it,' Sam said, 'though I suppose that's understandable. We've got enough on Delaney when we get hold of him but that's not the point.'
'You're angry,' Sheelagh murmured.
'Damn right I am,' returned Sam with a grim smile. 'Not at you though, I promise you that. Mickey's one of the best coppers I've got up there. He might go off on his own and report to the DCI instead of me but... He's got a good heart and he's in the job for the right reasons. You can't say that about everyone,' she added.
Sheelagh was watching her carefully. 'Sam...'
Catching her tone, she shook her head and drew herself up. 'I need to have a look at Delaney's profile, see what we're missing. I'll talk to you later, okay?'
'Okay,' she said, squeezing her hand again before she released it. 'Thank you.'
Sam waved that away then slipped out of the front office with her eyes lowered. Left alone, Sheelagh slumped back against the cupboard. Actions and unforeseen consequences – wasn't that the story of her life at the moment? Taking responsibility for the accidental release of Delaney naturally led on to her taking some responsibility for what he'd since done. She could hardly imagine what Mickey was going through and, truth be told, she tried to push it from her mind for her own comfort. She recognised one thing clearly at the moment – the level of stress she was putting herself under, keeping secrets from nearly everyone in her life, wasn't healthy for her and it certainly wasn't healthy for the baby. It hadn't asked for any of this and it was her duty to look after it. Patrick already thought she was on restricted duties and the chances of him dropping in one day to check on her were high. It was a powder-keg and she was petrified.
'Hello?'
Sheelagh jumped and looked to the desk. A well-dressed woman was smiling across at her. 'I'm sorry,' she said as she walked over, 'I was miles away. What can I do for you?'
'I'm Sally Johnson,' the woman answered. 'I was hoping to speak to DC Danny Glaze.'
'I'll run up and get him for you,' Sheelagh said, grateful for the prospect of a temporary change of scene. 'I'll be right back.'
When she reached CSU she found Sam on her way out of the doors. Though she didn't speak, Sam threw her one of the smiles that Sheelagh had quickly discovered she bestowed on no one else in the station then kept walking.
To her irritation, Danny wasn't interested in speaking to Sally Johnson. In fact, he was actively going out of his way to avoid it. He insisted on joining Jim on a case, leading Sheelagh to return downstairs and admit to Sally Johnson that Danny wasn't in the station. It wasn't a complete lie but it was a version of the truth. However, Sheelagh thought to herself as Sally Johnson took up root in reception, she was getting very good at spinning versions of the truth these days.
As the day wore on, Sally Johnson steadfastly refused to move. She occasionally stepped outside to take a call but she always left her jacket or her bag as a sign that she was coming back. Sheelagh was curious about what she wanted with Danny but, despite her questions, Sally was reticent about details. Instead, she politely ducked her head into the files she'd brought with her and pretended to be reading, though Sheelagh didn't buy the pretence for a moment.
Eventually, Reg came in to deliver a report to her. Mindful that the front office was hardly the best place for a professional discussion, she beckoned him to the back of the office and they were deep in conversation when a row kicked off on the other side of the desk. To Sheelagh's astonishment, it was Des arguing with Sally Johnson.
'This is harassment,' he spat. 'See this woman out here?' he went on to the office at large. 'She used to be a police officer. You know what she does now?'
Sheelagh glanced to Reg and questioned, 'What's going on?
'Don't know,' he answered.
'She does the dirty on the people she used to work with,' Des continued.
Sally stared him out. 'I'd really like to talk to you.'
'What's your problem?' Des demanded.
'I just want fifteen minutes of your time,' Sally replied.
'Simpson killed seven police officers,' Des said. 'You knew some of them.'
Sighing, Sally said, 'I think it'd be better if we did this in private, don't you?'
'Better for who?' he asked. 'He's already killed seven people. The only thing that makes it easier is the fact that he got sent down for it. And you are trying to get him off,' he concluded, the fury practically steaming out of his ears.
Without Sheelagh realising, Reg had slipped out of the door and into the public area. 'You'd better go,' he said to Sally.
She ignored him, focused instead on Des. 'You sure you wanna do this here?' she questioned.
'I'll do this any place you want, love,' he retorted.
Reg cleared his throat. 'Do you have an appointment?'
'What?' Politely, he took hold of her arm. 'Reg!'
'Look,' Reg answered, 'I believe you've already spoken to the superintendent and he has told you you're not welcome. Now – you're not welcome.'
With that, Sally was finally persuaded to leave. She stomped outside and Sheelagh rested her hands on the desk as Des and Reg turned to face her.
'You ought to report her,' she said.
'She's not worth it,' Des answered, though there was an expression on his face she couldn't pinpoint.
Even after he'd barged his way back into the station, the look on his face haunted Sheelagh. She couldn't explain why; it just seemed so different to what she was used to from Des Taviner. It was raw, hollow even. It reminded her of the honesty she thought she'd found in his face after they'd spent the night together. Not much could bring out that side of Des and she was surprised to realise she was worried about him.
After a morning on the front desk she was tasked to custody for the afternoon by a harried Inspector Gold as she rushed off to a meeting at the Yard. It was there that she heard that Martin Delaney had been caught and was on his way to the nick.
From the conversation she heard when Smithy, Des and Reg brought Delaney in, she understood that the secret about Mickey was out.
'It is, isn't it? He raped him,' Des said.
Smithy spun angrily around. 'Why don't you get on the tannoy, eh, you idiot?'
Sheelagh felt strangely distant from her surroundings, as though every nerve in her body was numb apart from her stomach. The baby was suddenly the only thing she could feel.
The back door swung open and Jack entered with Mickey. They walked straight past the desk, Mickey's head bowed.
'Poor bloke,' Reg muttered.
As a wave of pain washed over her, Sheelagh's body involuntarily contracted. It was the baby, she knew it was the baby. It felt as though it was clawing to get loose from her and why wouldn't it?
Reg rushed around the desk and put an arm around her. 'Sarge?' he questioned. 'Here you are, come here, sit down.' As he placed a stool underneath her, she almost fell onto it. 'You're all right,' he soothed then he glanced to a nearby constable. 'Get her a glass of water please. You're all right, love,' he added, turning his attention back to her.
The pain didn't subside after a few minutes and Reg insisted on calling an ambulance. Sheelagh was just grateful that Gina was far from the station – the last thing she needed was an interrogation while she was this scared. Similarly, wherever Sam was, she was at least unlikely to hear of this – for now. Throughout all the commotion, Des just stood in the corner, arms crossed, anxiety etched on his face.
When the ambulance arrived the paramedics put her on a stretcher as a precaution, despite her protests. In truth, she was worried enough to allow it even if she did protest as a convoluted attempt to prove to herself that she wasn't worried.
As the paramedics carried her to the ambulance, Des followed alongside. 'You all right?' he asked.
'I'm okay, Des,' she said.
'I'm coming with you,' he returned.
'No,' she said firmly.
His brow creased. 'Why not?'
'Because you've got a job to do and I'm fine by myself,' she answered.
'I wanna know what's up with you,' he insisted.
'It's over, Des,' she told him. 'I'm not your concern anymore. Understand?'
As the paramedics loaded her into the ambulance she closed her eyes in order to ignore his presence. A few more minutes of sustained questioning and she'd crack. It was bad enough that she was going to have to call Patrick from the hospital and face his distress. She couldn't cope with any pressure from Des on top of that.
It was as she suspected with Patrick. He was frantic and attentive, rushing to her side mid-shift and quizzing the doctor on her condition in extensive detail, asking the same questions over and over again. It would've been endearing had the gnawing guilt not resurfaced with a vengeance the moment her senses returned. She was relieved the baby was okay, of course she was; though an undeniable portion of her wished that it was over, that the baby was gone and that her life was less complicated. She hated herself for that thought as soon as it passed through her mind and she spent the next hour or so trying to atone for it by imagining how well she was going to look after her new son or daughter.
Patrick went downstairs for another chat with the doctor – despite her warnings for him to leave it be – and when he returned he wasn't alone. To her horror, Des accompanied him. She only had a few seconds to acclimatise herself to the idea and then she tried to smile at her husband because she knew he expected it.
Des asked the polite questions about her condition, though his unease was evident. She knew him well enough to feel the storm brewing and she looked first to her empty cup then to Patrick: 'Erm, could you get us a glass?' she asked.
'Sure,' he said in his usual way then glanced across the bed. 'Des?'
'I'm okay,' he replied.
When Patrick moved to the water fountain to refill the jug Sheelagh looked hesitantly up at Des. The hollow expression on his face was similar to this morning when he'd confronted Sally Johnson – it was fear, she realised with a jolt.
'So you're pregnant?' he questioned and she exhaled. 'Well, how pregnant are you?' he pressed.
Patrick had been ridiculously rapid with the water. Before she could answer Des – even if she knew how to – he was back at her side, ever the attentive husband. In front of Des it was positively tortuous.
'Thanks,' she said.
'I'm gonna be a father again,' Patrick said to Des with a childish grin. 'I can hardly believe it.'
Pouring the water, he passed it to her carefully. She took it, attempting to smile, and murmured, 'Thanks.'
Des lingered only as long as was polite. He was obviously shell-shocked, his mind clicking through numerous gears and trying to work out the likelihood of his being the father. Part of her was relieved that Patrick was surgically attached to her side – dealing with any of Des's questions right now was far from the top of her wish list.
After Des sped off Patrick was full of plans and excitement. It seemed the idea of the baby hadn't been real to him until they'd nearly lost it. That, of course, made things ten times worse for her. But, the flip side of Patrick realising the baby was real was that she did too. The doctors declared her fit to go home and she was worried, genuinely worried, about the safety of her unborn child. Now, whether the future was going to be complicated or not, she had to admit that she was going to give birth in a few months and that baby was going to be hers. A living, breathing baby; a beautiful boy or girl. How they'd got to this point wasn't important – the fact that she was growing a new life inside of her was.
Patrick was, quite naturally, anxious about her returning to work the next day. However, she was determined to carry on as normal. It wasn't only that she didn't want Des alone in the station, possibly talking himself into coming round to the house and demanding to know who the father of her baby was. It wasn't just that, though she admitted it was a factor. No, it was the prospect of people finding out and asking questions. Sure, people might know that she'd been taken to hospital but they were less likely to gossip if she was around. Besides, Gina had been absent from the station yesterday afternoon and she was off today – that made it unlikely she'd heard of the emergency. That, in turn, made it unlikely that Sam had. Even now, Sheelagh's instinct was to keep the truth from Samantha. While she knew that people had made the connection between them – that people knew of their friendship – she suspected it was unlikely that someone would dare go to DI Samantha Nixon and spread station gossip about one of the sergeants being rushed to hospital, especially when that sergeant was back in work as normal as ever.
In truth, Sheelagh didn't feel very normal. She was running on autopilot, thankful that she'd received an email first thing to tell her that she was absolved of responsibility for the Delaney mistake and so she could take calls outside of the station again. That didn't absolve her guilt, of course, but part of the problem yesterday was that she let that overtake her. Coupled with the gnawing shame she felt because of the baby, her blood pressure had apparently risen to worrying levels. She needed to keep calm and that meant distracting herself from her mistakes both personal and professional.
That proved difficult. Tasked as Duty Sergeant for the day, she had to respond to a couple of incidents in the front office then she was heading back to her own office when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
'Sarge,' Des called. Reluctantly, she glanced over her shoulder as he caught up with her. 'About that stolen car,' he said. 'The keys were taken from inside the house.'
Sheelagh stepped over the threshold, dismayed that he followed her but unwilling to talk to him in a public setting anyway. 'So if it's a burglary then it's CID,' she said.
'Yeah, but there's no sign of a forced entry.' Looking along the corridor, he shut the door then turned back and questioned, 'Should you be in work in your condition?'
'I'm pregnant,' she replied. 'I'm not sick. They said I'd be fine.'
'You told me you weren't sleeping with your husband,' he said.
Grimacing, she muttered, 'I don't wanna discuss this.'
'Well, if you weren't sleeping with him how can you be pregnant by him?' Des persisted.
'I know you've got work to do,' Sheelagh told him. 'I suggest you go and do it.'
'How do you think I felt, eh?' he demanded. 'Standing next to him, congratulating him on the fact that he got you pregnant, while all the time in my head I've got this little voice telling me that the baby might just be mine.'
Sheelagh managed to look at him briefly then dragged her gaze away. If she met his eye she knew she'd crack and admit the truth. Mustering her energy, she walked straight past him and took off down the corridor. She heard him on her heels then DCI Meadows called him back and Sheelagh found herself free.
Whatever the DCI had wanted with Des, it at least kept him from pursuing her again for a while. She had to conduct a performance review with Nick, something she went into a little distracted. Realising she was bombarding him with perfunctory questions, she made a deliberate effort to slow herself down. She liked Nick and she wanted him to succeed back at Sun Hill, however hard that was going to be all round.
When she asked if he'd been tempted by anything in particular, he replied, 'I'm an addict, Sarge. An addict doesn't need particular circumstances.'
She smiled as she perched on the edge of her desk. 'You sound like you've swallowed the pamphlet,' she said. 'As far as you're concerned, you're back in the thick of it, doing your job, business as usual.'
'Yes, Sarge,' he said. 'I think I'm pulling my weight.'
Sheelagh crossed her arms. 'If anything, you're pulling more than your weight.'
He glanced at her uncertainly. 'Sarge?'
'You've taken a very...muscular approach,' she explained. 'You get stuck in, more than you used to and that's certainly one way to do the job. On the other hand, you can lose empathy by going that way.'
'I don't think that's very fair, Sarge,' Nick answered.
Rising, Sheelagh rounded her desk. 'It's a fine balance, isn't it?' she asked. 'Staying human in this job. And that's a side to you I'd like to see a bit more of, Nick.'
Slowly, he nodded. The rest of the meeting was an exercise in box-ticking, checking what incidents Nick had felt uncomfortable dealing with since his return. While some sergeants would just go through the motions of asking the questions, Sheelagh was more interested in monitoring his reaction to them. She'd been fooled into think PC Klein was okay in the past and she wasn't going to make that mistake again. However, by the end of the interview she was convinced that he was telling her the truth. Her judgement might've been skewed lately but she trusted her instincts on this one.
Discovering that Des was out of the station with Kerry in the area car all afternoon meant she could breathe a little easier. Then she received a call to attend an incident as Duty Sergeant where a baby had been rushed to hospital after he stopped breathing.
She was forced to steady herself on the filing cabinet before she could bring herself to leave the office. This was exactly the kind of incident June had warned her about, the kind she'd naively thought wouldn't occur. Pushing things to the back of her mind had been her silly way of dealing with things lately and now she was caught in difficult situation. Inspector Gold wasn't in – not that Sheelagh thought she was ready for that conversation – and Des had responded to the initial call at the Jameson residence. Not only was she going to have to deal with desperate parents, she was going to have to do it while Des watched. She might as well put herself under a microscope and have done with it.
As she drove to the Jameson house she tried her best to distance herself from the situation. Other officers managed this type of call without letting it get to them, even other mothers. What had she said to Nick earlier about the danger of losing empathy? At the moment she was trying to drive empathy from her mind or she doubted she'd get through this and be any use to the family or her colleagues.
When she arrived at the house she caught Des watching for her out of the window, a troubled expression on his face. He pulled the door open before she had chance to knock and she stepped over the threshold with her hat tucked under her arm.
'Where's Kerry?' she questioned.
'She's upstairs with the mother,' he answered, closing the door softly. 'Should you be doing this?' he asked as she made for the stairs.
Nettled, she turned back. 'Doing what, Des?'
'This type of call in your condition,' he explained.
'My condition is my business,' she snapped. 'The sooner you get that into your head the better.' Behind her, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs and glanced over her shoulder to check Kerry hadn't inferred anything from what she'd overheard. 'Right,' she went on briskly, 'so it's father and baby at the hospital and the mother's here, yeah?'
'Father didn't want the mother to go,' Des muttered.
'Why not?' she queried with a frown.
'Well, I don't know,' he replied. 'I suppose sometimes one partner wants to shut the other out.'
Sheelagh shifted her weight, aware of Kerry's presence and not eager to add more fuel to the PC's penchant for gossip. Any awkward questions were lost as Dean radioed in from CAD asking Des if he was okay to talk. With a glance up the stairs, he relocated to the kitchen, Kerry and Sheelagh following him. Anxiety percolated in her stomach as she watched Des fiddle with his radio.
'Okay,' he said, 'you can talk now.'
'Bad news, sorry,' Dean reported. 'The baby arrived at St. Hughes life extinct. We just heard. Over.'
The news rippled through Sheelagh's body, settling in the pit of her stomach. As the senior officer on the scene, she was the one who had to inform the mother.
'Received,' Des murmured.
Sheelagh reached forward and touched his arm, feeling him tremble. Then she said, 'I'd best go and tell the mother.'
Turning, she went through the lounge and slowly climbed the stairs. She felt Kerry on her heels, hardly rushing her up though she felt under pressure. Swallowing, she located the mother in her bedroom, folding washing very methodically and without much emotion on her face.
'Mrs Jameson?' Sheelagh said carefully. She'd learned from experience it was better to get the news out quickly, rather than prolong the pain. 'I'm very sorry to tell you your little boy has died,' she went on in as measured a voice as she could muster.
There wasn't so much as a moment of pause nor a flicker of emotion as Mrs Jameson tried to squeeze out of the room. 'Excuse me,' she said.
'You might want to sit down for a minute,' Sheelagh told her, blocking her path.
'Excuse me,' Mrs Jameson repeated as she pushed past them.
Sheelagh exchanged a look with Kerry. Gesturing to the constable to stay put, Sheelagh followed Mrs Jameson next door into the nursery, sighing as she saw her start to gather up the bedclothes in the cot.
'Not now, Mrs Jameson,' Sheelagh tried.
'I should clean it up,' she muttered.
Sheelagh reached out then let her hand fall back. 'Let me do that.'
'No, I've got to.'
'Leave it, Mrs Jameson, please,' Sheelagh returned firmly. The tone of her voice, plus the hand on her arm, made the woman halt suddenly. It was almost robotic. 'Was he in here?' she questioned.
Mrs Jameson blinked. 'Yes.'
'Did you find him?' persisted Sheelagh gently.
'Yes,' she murmured.
Sensing the lull in Mrs Jameson's momentum, Sheelagh stretched her arm around her shoulders and led her out of the nursery. 'Why don't you come next door and sit down? Come on.' She manoeuvred her past Kerry and sat her down next down. 'I'll leave you for a minute,' she said gently. 'Get you some water.' Stepping out on the landing, she motioned Kerry well out of earshot and warned, 'Don't let her back in the baby's room. She can't clean it up. We need to preserve the scene.'
Kerry nodded. 'Sarge.'
'Okay,' Sheelagh murmured as she started down the staircase and reached for her radio. 'Sierra Oscar from 66, receiving, over.'
'Go ahead, 66,' Dean said.
'I'm at the call at Welling Drive with Des and Kerry,' she said. 'We need the DI down here. Tell her we've got a sudden infant death, over.'
'I've done it already, over,' he answered.
She managed a smile to prove she could, though he couldn't see it. 'Thanks, Dean, good lad.'
Glancing up at the ceiling, she tried to combat the swirling sensation in her stomach. The fact that Sam was going to arrive shortly was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, she needed the strength and support of Samantha Nixon, not just as a senior officer in this case but also as a friendly face that she could trust. She was aware that not everyone shared her point of view on that but she trusted Sam to deal with this sensitively, as only another mother probably could. However, Sheelagh was aware of just how hard this case had hit her. Resting her hands on her stomach, she tried to control her urge to flee the Jameson house. There was a good chance – more than a chance – that Sam would see all this. She knew Sam saw a lot more than she ever commented on; she absorbed everything and stored it away. Sheelagh was waiting for the inevitable day when all her observations spilled out, though she sincerely hoped it wouldn't be today.
'Sheelagh?' Des said quietly, coming back into the living room.
She jumped then plastered on a mask for his benefit. 'Right,' she said briskly, 'I want you and Kerry to go back at the station and write up your reports. I'll stay here with Mrs Jameson.'
'Well, I wanna stay,' he muttered.
'Look,' she answered, 'this was a really difficult shout. I understand that and you're more use to me writing up a full statement about the state of the house when you arrived. It'll aid the investigation, you know that. Anyway,' she continued, sensing his argument brewing, 'I don't want to crowd Mrs Jameson anymore than is necessary. SOCO'll be arriving to disturb the nursery, there'll be an FLO and the DI's on her way.'
Des snorted. 'Oh, yeah, bring in the ice queen who can't even look after her own daughter.'
'Oi,' she said sharply. Was it possible that, out of everyone in Sun Hill, Des was the only one who hadn't heard about her close friendship with DI Nixon? Then again, it showed her once more that he hadn't been paying that much attention to her. 'You do not speak about your senior officers in that way, PC Taviner, do you understand me?'
'Yes, Sarge,' he said quietly.
'Good. Now, wait here and I'll go upstairs and take over from Kerry with Mrs Jameson.'
She spared him a sympathetic glance before she climbed the stairs, though she preferred taking refuge in her irritation his words about Sam had caused rather than focusing on the problems at hand. Perhaps that's the way she was going to get through this – assuming, of course, that she was.
Kerry was relieved to be dismissed, Sheelagh could tell that from the look on her face. Mrs Jameson was sat silently on the bed, her hands occasionally tying themselves in knots then resting beside her on the bed.
'Mrs Jameson,' Sheelagh said softly, 'my colleague's on her way – DI Nixon. Because of the nature of the case she needs to come and ask you some questions, okay?'
Mrs Jameson didn't respond, just continued rocking on the bed. Abruptly, she rose but, instead of returning to the nursery as Sheelagh thought she might, she headed downstairs and began stalking around the lower level. Though she kept a careful eye on her, Sheelagh wasn't going to interfere until Sam arrived. Then the doorbell rang. Mrs Jameson swung towards it before groping for the sofa, slumping down like a rag roll.
Sheelagh crossed to the door and opened it to find Sam on the threshold. Immediately, despite the anxiety etched on her face, she felt more secure. It helped, of course, that she was no longer the senior officer on the scene but she doubted she would've felt the same crashing wave of relief had Inspector Gold been the one on the doorstep or Jack Meadows.
'Come in,' Sheelagh murmured, stepping aside.
As she passed, Sam reached out and squeezed her shoulder. The gesture almost brought the tears that had been bubbling for the last half an hour to the surface but Sheelagh managed to control them and just nodded her thanks. Sam's gaze lingered for a moment then she moved straight to the armchair near Mrs Jameson. Sheelagh closed the door slowly then moved to stand behind Sam's chair, near to the stairs.
'I'm very sorry to hear about your bad news,' Sam began gently. Then she cast a glance over her shoulder. 'Sergeant Murphy's probably already explained this,' she continued in the same soft tone, 'but, erm, basically, this situation is what we call sudden infant death and there are certain rules about how we are obliged to handle it. Okay? And one of those rules is that as a senior officer I have to be here, okay?'
When she glanced down briefly Sheelagh could see the struggle in her shoulders. For Des to call Samantha Nixon an 'ice queen' was so far from the mark it was laughable.
'Now, we know what happened after our officers arrived,' Sam said, reaching across and putting her hand on Mrs Jameson's arm. 'I know this is hard for you and you probably don't wanna do this right now but I have to ask you certain questions about what happened before they actually got here. Is that all right?' She paused and waited for the slow nod before she asked, 'What's your son's name?'
'Ben,' Mrs Jameson said.
'When did you first notice that there was something wrong with Ben?' Sam questioned.
'I went to wake him to give him his feed and...he just wasn't breathing right.'
Sam nodded. 'What time was this?'
'I don't know,' murmured Mrs Jameson.
'It's okay,' Sam assured her. 'Were you alone?'
'Warren was out.'
'Warren?' repeated Sam.
'Warren's the father,' Sheelagh supplied.
Looking towards her, Sam attempted a watery smile before turning her attention back to Mrs Jameson. 'Okay,' she went on, 'I was told that you had an argument. You were arguing while you called for the ambulance, is that right?'
Mrs Jameson's forehead creased. 'He was shouting at me.'
'Why?' Sam probed.
'He had the baby and he was shouting at me 'make the ambulance come quickly'.'
'Sorry,' Sam replied, 'I thought you said he wasn't here. '
'When he came back,' Mrs Jameson explained.
Sheelagh felt her insides liquidate and Sam's shoulders stiffened as she asked, 'You waited for him to come back before you called the ambulance?'
'I didn't know what to do,' answered Mrs Jameson.
'Okay,' Sam said. How she was managing to keep her voice steady at the moment was beyond Sheelagh's comprehension but, then, Sam wasn't dealing with hormones and a growing baby inside her rebelling at whatever had gone on in this house. 'Was he shouting at you because you hadn't called the ambulance already?' Sam questioned.
'Yes. He made me call them right away,' Mrs Jameson said.
'Annabelle, how long was there between you trying to wake Ben and Warren coming home?' Sam paused, waiting for an answer, but finally was forced to prompt, 'Annabelle?'
'I don't know,' she answered.
'Well, was it a couple of minutes?' Sam persisted. 'Ten minutes? Half an hour?'
'I didn't know what to do,' Mrs Jameson said. 'There was nothing I could do.' Standing she walked past the chair Sam was sat in muttering, 'He just wasn't breathing right.'
Without another word, she headed into the kitchen. Sheelagh turned to watch after her, mindful of the back door practically being a flashing neon escape route, but she settled at the window and simply stared out into the patch of garden.
For a few minutes the house was silent. Though Sheelagh didn't glance back to Sam, she knew she was mentally acclimatising herself to that conversation as much as Sheelagh was. It was strange. The house felt brittle, as though it might crumple around their ears if any one of the three of them so much as breathed loudly.
Then the doorbell rang and Sheelagh nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun to answer it but Sam beat her to it, letting in SOCO and murmuring instructions to them as she ushered them up the stairs, sparing a brief look for Sheelagh before she disappeared out of sight.
Now, with the house a hive of activity, Mrs Jameson seemed to shrink into herself. It was robotic again, the same robotic reaction Sheelagh had seen earlier when she tried to clear the cot. She sat down mechanically on the sofa, as if the creaks upstairs were nothing to her but minor interruptions to her life. Sheelagh didn't like it; she really didn't.
A few minutes later the doorbell rang for a third time. It was the FLO, a specialist PC from Barton Street well-versed in this type of family tragedy. Sheelagh let her in and introduced her to Mrs Jameson, who acknowledged her presence with the merest flicker of her eyes.
With her sentry duty over, Sheelagh could finally climb the stairs and seek out Sam. Ever-attune to her presence, Sam heard her footsteps and came to join her in the doorway of the nursery where SOCO were bagging up the blankets from the cot.
'Does it feel right to you?' Sheelagh asked. 'This whole thing.'
Sam's face was impassive yet strangely open. 'What do you mean?' she returned.
Sheelagh glanced to the cot, wondering how to phrase this. 'Well, she was very quick to clean this room,' she said.
Blinking, Sam absorbed that slowly. She might've responded if one of the scene examiners hadn't slid between them to take some evidence down to their van.
'Excuse me,' the examiner said.
'Sure,' Sam murmured, though Sheelagh could see the lines furrowing her brow.
Abruptly, Mrs Jameson appeared in their line of sight, halting halfway up the stairs. 'Will they take it away?' she asked, gesturing to the bags SOCO were carrying.
'Temporarily,' Sam answered. 'You'll get it all back.'
'I don't want it,' Mrs Jameson said, turning and retreating back down the staircase.
Sheelagh watched her go, the gnawing sensation in her stomach increasing every moment she spent in this house. Finally, she risked a glance sideways and found a similar troubled expression on Sam's face. Perversely, that lessened her anxiety a little – knowing that Sam was as unsettled by all this as she was at least convinced her that her impressions of Mrs Jameson's bizarre grief were more than just her own hormones talking.
'Has the FLO arrived?' Sam questioned quietly. When Sheelagh nodded she continued, 'Then we should all go to the hospital, talk to the father there, away from the house, let Annabelle see her son. Leave the scene to SOCO.'
'Sure,' Sheelagh replied, starting down the staircase. Sam's hand rested briefly between her shoulder blades, something Sheelagh appreciated more than she would've been able to articulate if she'd needed to. But she didn't – the instinct that had prompted Sam to reach out in the first place probably told her how welcome the gesture had been.
Downstairs, Sam located Mrs Jameson in the kitchen and asked her if she wanted to come to the hospital with them.
'Warren won't want me there,' she answered. 'I don't want to go.'
Sam exchanged another glance with Sheelagh but just nodded. 'Okay, Annabelle, that's fine. You've been introduced to your Family Liaison Officer, haven't you? She's going to stay with you and anything you need, you let her know. The people upstairs won't be here much longer.'
Mrs Jameson just blinked a few times then turned away. Sheelagh kept her eyes on the rigid figure for a few moments then Sam grasped her arm and gestured to the door. Only once they were outside in the cool autumnal air did either of them manage to catch their breath and Sam didn't relinquish her arm until she'd led her to the car and put her into the passenger seat. Sheelagh wondered if she really looked that bad until she caught sight of herself in the wing mirror and realised that she actually did.
Coming round to the driver's seat, Sam started the engine and they began crawling down the road. 'I'm taking you back to the nick.'
'No,' Sheelagh said instantly. 'I can do my job, Sam.'
'I'm not saying that you can't,' she replied. 'But I've been concerned about you for a while, Sheelagh, and I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't act on those concerns.'
'Don't pull the rank card,' Sheelagh said. 'If we weren't friends then you wouldn't know –'
'That there's something tormenting you?' Sam interrupted, glancing sideways. 'No, you're right, I wouldn't. But the point is that I do and I can't put that aside because I care about you too much.'
The words dampened Sheelagh's fire a little and she sighed. 'Please, let me see this through. At least let me come to the hospital and interview the father with you.'
Sam's face plainly showed her conflict. She chewed on her lip for a moment then said, 'This case would affect any parent, Sheelagh. There's no shame in it. I can stand you down and nobody would think anything of it.'
'You're a mother,' Sheelagh pointed out.
'Yeah,' murmured Sam, her voice barely audible as she held up a trembling hand, 'and that's why I'm like this. As DI I have to do this,' she continued, gripping the steering wheel with both hands again. 'You don't.'
'Let me sit on your interview with the father,' said Sheelagh softly. 'I won't get involved, just let me be there. If it gets too much I promise you I'll –'
'Is this my best offer?' Sam cut in, a wisp of a smile on her face.
'Something like that,' Sheelagh answered. Reaching across, she rested a hand on Sam's knee. 'If I were any other officer, you'd say no, wouldn't you?'
Briefly, Sam covered her hand with her own then focused on the road. 'Damn right I would.'
The rest of the journey passed in silence, Sheelagh immeasurably grateful for the friendship that allowed them this mutual understanding. For her part, she'd come to the abrupt decision that she needed to tell Sam about the baby and about Des, just as soon as this case was put to bed. Hearing how concerned Sam had been about her had made her realise that she needed to trust her with this. She needed to be open and honest and trust that Sam wouldn't turn away because of it.
At the hospital they located Mr Jameson and took him into a small room away from the hustle and bustle of the ward. He looked shell-shocked, as brittle as the mother but in a different way. This man sat across the room in front of a gentle Samantha Nixon was someone Sheelagh could identify with.
'Ben was fine when I went out,' Mr Jameson murmured.
'How long did you go out for?' Sam questioned.
'Two hours,' he said. 'I should've come home before. If only I'd come home before I could've done something.'
'Was your son ill or not himself in any way?' asked Sam carefully.
'He had a tummy upset a few days ago, nothing out of the ordinary.'
Despite her promise to stay on the sidelines, Sheelagh couldn't help but question, 'Had you been involved a lot in looking after him, Warren?'
'Annabelle won't let me,' he answered.
'Let you what?' pressed Sam.
'She won't let me anywhere near him,' Mr Jameson explained. 'She won't let me change him or feed him. If I try to pick him up she grabs him off me.'
'You know,' Sam said after a moment, 'when we left your house, Mr Jameson, we offered to bring your wife. But she said you wouldn't want her here.'
'I don't,' he said, his voice trembling.
Sam's gaze was fixed on him. 'Why not?'
'My son's dead,' he muttered.
'Do you blame her for that?' she asked.
'I blame her for keeping me away from him. I should've done more. I should've insisted,' he added, scrubbing his eyes.
Sam looked puzzled. 'Insisted on – on what?'
'Babies don't just die,' Mr Jameson said.
It was those words that began to undo Sheelagh. She'd been coping – barely – during the rest of this conversation but that proclamation was closer to her heart than she'd liked to admit. As soon as she'd accepted yesterday that she wanted this baby, that she was going to welcome him or her into her life and be grateful for it, she'd opened herself up to feel this level of empathy, this pain.
'Sometimes they do, Mr Jameson,' Sam said quietly.
'No, they don't,' he replied. 'There has to be a reason.'
Sam struggled for a second, finally managing, 'Well, that's what we're here to find out.'
That was all Sheelagh could bear. Standing, she tried to leave the room as quietly as she could. She felt, rather than saw, Sam's head lift up and glance at her, though she couldn't look in her direction. Part of it was shame burning through her – she'd promised not half an hour ago that she could cope with this situation and she'd failed. But if she stayed in that room she would've started crying or worse. It wasn't fair to put either Sam or Mr Jameson in that position so she'd bowed out while she could.
Out in the corridor, she tried to pull herself together. That wasn't made any easier by the fact that Des was sat out there on one of the banks of hard green seats. She sat down on the nearest chair and he moved along to be opposite her.
'I thought I sent you back to the nick,' Sheelagh said.
'You did,' he replied. 'How's the father?'
'Pretty shaken up,' she answered.
'I had to give that baby mouth to mouth, you know,' he said. 'I can still feel his lips next to mine. He was so cold and tiny.' As he leaned forward in his seat, she could feel his words permeating her body, bringing fresh tears to her eyes. 'It's funny when something happens to you out of the blue like that,' he went on. 'Makes you think about what's really important in life.'
'Des, that's why I sent you back to the nick,' she tried. 'Now, if you want me to stand you down for the rest of the shift I will.'
She was aware that she was sounding like Sam had with her not so long ago. Perhaps the only difference was that she would force Des to stand down if she thought he needed it.
'Who's the father of your baby, Sheelagh?' Des asked and she glanced down to her hands. 'You've got to tell me,' he persisted. 'When that father handed me the baby he wanted me to perform a miracle. Cos that's what life is, isn't it? A miracle.' Crossing the corridor, he sat beside her, painfully close. 'So I don't care if this baby is Patrick's or mine or some other fella's,' he continued, 'I just need to know.'
Finally, she was forced to look at him. 'It's not some other fella's.'
'So whose is it?' he pressed.
'Mine,' she murmured.
He snorted. 'Come on, Sheelagh.'
Sheelagh looked away from him, a sigh escaping her lips as she admitted, 'Yours.'
After a long pause, he purposefully turned her face towards his. 'When were you gonna tell me?' he questioned. Her face must've betrayed the truth because his hardened. 'Does Patrick know?' he demanded.
'No,' she replied.
He growled. 'Patrick thinks it's his and you're gonna play happy families with him?'
'He wants to be with me,' she answered. 'You don't.'
'How can I when you treat me like this?' he questioned.
'See, Des, that's why I didn't tell you,' she retorted. 'Because I know I can't rely on you.'
Unable to stand any more of his pushing, especially when the face of Mr Jameson was still swimming at the back of her mind, she stood and fled towards the bathroom. She couldn't leave the hospital without Sam – she knew that much.
