Lola was working on the computer in the back office when Hannah arrived the next morning, heading straight to put her lunch in the fridge. Brody had put everything in her hallway and then headed off after he dropped her back at work. When she’d got home that night, done everything she needed to and settled Ava, she’d lugged the TV and bag inside her living room and got to work setting it up. Brody had left his own shopping bag there too, and when she looked, there was a second-hand DVD player in there, with some DVDs. The usual early years DVDs of funny animals, songs and primary colours. On a Post-it Note, he’d written a note. Short and to the point. Which was what she’d come to understand about him. He was a man of few words, not one to use flowery prose or filler words.
Thought Ava might like these. She remembered the shifty way he’d taken her bag. He’d known she wouldn’t have accepted it. She tried to feel annoyed, but looking at Peppa Pig, smiling out at her from one of the cases, she was touched by the gesture. She could offer him the money, given that it wouldn’t break the bank being second-hand, but she knew she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t be rude like that. He’d been a help to her. She could let this one slide, and not worry about the repercussions so much. He’d asked her to have lunch with him again before he left, but she’d declined again without reason. To his credit, he’d just shrugged and waved her goodbye. The novelty would wear off soon. Once she was settled in a bit more, less of a new face.
‘Decaf?’ she asked, waggling the coffee jar in Lola’s direction.
‘No ta, just had one.’ She yawned loudly. ‘Oh God sorry. As you can see, it doesn’t quite hit the spot.’ She looked longingly at the Kenco in Hannah’s hand. ‘I miss coffee. And runny eggs. I swear, John vetoes everything I like. Runny eggs aren’t even on the list of pregnancy no-nos.’ She shot Hannah a triumphant look. ‘I googled it.’
Hannah took her coffee to the other desk, making a start on the online order slips before the shop doors opened. ‘He’s sweet. It’s nice he cares.’ She thought back to when they were out with Victor’s friends one night. He’d made a fuss of her all night, checking the menu. The other wives were fawning over him. That night, when they’d got home, he’d pinched the skin on her elbow tight. Just once. Like he was reminding her that he was still nasty under the nice. ‘You shouldn’t let him dictate to you though.’
A look of understanding passed between the two women. Lola was sharp, she decided. This wasn’t the same thing. This wasn’t Victor.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean … I just meant …’
‘I know what you meant,’ Lola replied softly. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
Hannah shook her head automatically. ‘No, no. John is just being nice, I know.’
‘I know.’ Lola let the conversation drop. Hannah really did like her. ‘Speaking of caring, was Brody a help yesterday?’ Hannah’s hand almost dropped her cup, two sploshes of hot, dark liquid falling onto an order for a rather long list of books for a local villager. ‘I heard he took you shopping.’
‘He just gave me a lift,’ Hannah retorted, plucking a tissue from the box on the desk and wiping ineffectually at the blobs. Shit. She squinted at the order. She could still make out the titles. They were classics; she’d read most of them.
‘Still, it was nice of him. Brody doesn’t do things like that for just anyone.’
Hannah rolled her eyes, but when she saw Lola she regretted it. She’d clocked her.
‘Sorry, I’m a bit grumpy.’
‘Ava okay?’
‘She’s fine. It’s not that. I just … nothing.’
Lola returned to tapping on the keyboard, and Hannah stood, coffee and printed order sheets in hand. She was halfway out the door before she turned back.
‘What did you mean?’
Lola finished typing and eyed her evenly.
‘About what?’
‘About Brody. Not doing things for just anyone.’ She looked at the floor. ‘He’s a copper. And every time I see him he’s helping people.’
Lola’s mouth twitched.
‘It’s nothing special. I just don’t really need the help.’
‘Right,’ Lola turned her head to one side. ‘What I actually meant was that he likes you. He doesn’t … warm to people too easily. He hasn’t got a big circle of people around him, never had really. The force, Bullet, John – they’re his family. He’s good at his job, and yeah, he helps people. He’s a damn saint sometimes, but he doesn’t act like he does around you.’
Hannah mulled on her words, processing this information pretty slowly too. Lola’s amused expression told Hannah she was watching for her reaction. Hannah also knew that she’d probably already read a reaction on her usual poker face: confusion.
‘Act?’ She threw the word out there, bait for her fishhook of a question.
‘He doesn’t talk to people, or about them. It’s just not him. He can speak when he wants to, but with you … it’s different.’
Hannah’s brows furrowed, her breath huffing out of her nostrils like dragon smoke. Her tight lips had sealed off her air.
‘I think John sees it too,’ Lola said. ‘Not that he’d rat out a mate.’
‘Who’s ratting on a mate?’ John approached the doorway slowly. Hannah noticed he was always careful that she knew where he was. He gave her space, without her having to ask. In his job he’d probably learnt to recognise damaged people. She made a mental note to watch herself around him.
‘No one, love. It’s from a book I read last night.’
‘Oh really? I thought you were reading about piles in your pregnancy book?’
Lola banged her open palm on the desk. ‘Git.’ She glared at him, but he just laughed in response. Hannah’s own lip curled a little to stop her titter. ‘I think that deserves a proper coffee by way of apology.’
John’s smile dropped, and he looked like a comical drill sergeant complete with commando stance. ‘No dice. What were you—’
His phone stopped him mid-interrogation, and his face was serious when he saw the number.
‘Yeah.’ His voice was different than his normal easy way. It was official. Clipped.
His eyes widened.
‘Fuck! How bad? Where are they?’ He walked over to Lola who was trying to get up from her seat and settled her down with a gentle push of his hand on her shoulder. ‘Okay, okay. Hit me up when you know.’
‘What?’ Lola demanded, one of her hands over his now and one on her bump. Hannah headed out of the doors, things still in her hands. It sounded urgent, private and none of her business. She got to work, pulling the relevant books from the shelves, packaging them for postal delivery and filling the order basket for John’s van. A couple of police cars shot past towards the station, a police transport vehicle between them. Sirens blaring, lights flashing. The people on the street turned to watch them, and instead of hiding amongst the shelves, she was nose to the window. She wondered if Brody was with them.
Two hours later, she overheard her answer. It did involve Brody, and he was hurt.