“Ha! Wot! I should say so. A gal like you should have a baby.”
“I’m a cop, not a gal.”
“That’s not what Bloxy thinks.”
“Cops don’t have babies.”
“Vicars don’t get pissed!”
The citizens cheered. The football-shirted skinheads had come back in and re-kindled a chorus of “God Save the Queen.”
She left them to their delight and gave a thumbs-up to the landlord. So far, so good. She stepped outside. It was close to midnight. If there was trouble she was for the chop. She went back to the jeep. The police radio was vibrant with emergency calls, reports of fights, domestic violence, car crashes and kids not come home. Until now, nothing in Fleetworth-Green. The BBC had reported that the fountains in Trafalgar Square had been lit up in blue to denote a boy. A nameless friendless girl lay dea
