Tamsyn was double-crewing with Sergeant Terwillis for the rest of her shift. It was the first chance she’d had to spend any time with the officer in charge of all the students and she was feeling a little nervous, especially as he’d suggested that she drive. It was also the first time she’d driven a patrol car since her training at Middlemoor.
At least she was familiar with the road and made sure she kept to the speed limit. Her sergeant had watched as she moved the seat and rear-view mirror to suit herself and she’d also checked that the petrol tank was full, even though the last officer to use it would normally have filled it up.
When she shoved her go-bag and wellingtons in the boot, she also checked it had two road cones and a ‘road closed’ sign, as well as other pieces of equipment that an officer might need.
Her fob key recorded the mileage in the car’s digital log, then she followed the cockpit drill, adjusting the wing mirrors and making sure she knew where the lights, fog lamps and siren were located. She knew it, and she knew that she knew it, but checking helped steady her nerves.
Sergeant Terwillis was a large man, heavyset, comfortable in his own skin. A trimmed moustache edged his tanned face, and he exuded calm competence. Tamsyn wondered if she’d ever feel like that.
A slight cough rattled his chest, reminding her that he’d been off sick the day she’d started.
“So, how are you settling in, Tamsyn? It’s been a hectic couple of days for you so far.”
“It’s been good, thank you, sarge. Really interesting.”
They were driving to St Ives to tell the Pryce family that the body found at Lamorna had been formally identified from the fingerprints.
“What would you say has been your biggest challenge so far?”
Tamsyn pressed her lips together, unsure what to reply.
“I’m not looking forward to telling Lucy – that’s the Pryce’s little girl – I’m not looking forward to telling her that ‘Jowita’, as she knew her, is dead,” she said at last. “She really liked her … and I think Saemira was kind to her.”
Sergeant Terwillis nodded. “I won’t lie – it’s one of the hardest things you’ll do in the job. That’s why we have the training to fall back on. So what will be your approach?”
“Me?”
“You have a relationship with the girl and her mother,” he reminded her. “So, yes – I want you to take the lead on this. I’ll be there to back you up. Now, what were you told about handling this type of scenario?”
Tamsyn mentally scrolled through her training.
“I knock on the door, introduce us and ask Mrs Pryce to allow us inside. I’ll try to ensure that she’s sitting down. I’ll tell her that a body has been identified as the woman she knew as Jowita Wojciechowski – I don’t mention the aliases, do I?”
The sergeant shook his head.
“I say that she was found at Lamorna on Monday, and that we’re treating her death as suspicious.”
“Anything else?”
“Um, I have to be clear about what’s happened but keep it brief, and ask if there’s anyone she wants us to call on her behalf. We stay with her until a friend can come and be with her.”
“Anything else?” he repeated.
Tamsyn racked her brain. “I don’t think so.”
“You express your regret about the death.”
Tamsyn’s cheeks flushed.
“Sorry. Of course I’ll do that.”
She side-eyed him as he nodded.
“It’s easy to forget when you’re intent on delivering the facts, but it’s one of the most important things. People will remember this moment forever: your words matter.”
Tamsyn took a deep breath. “Yes, sarge. Sorry.”
“You’ll be fine.”
The streetlights had just come on when Tamsyn drove up to the guest house, and the Caerlyon’s windows glowed jewel-like in the dusk.
“The family live around the back,” Tamsyn croaked, her mouth dry.
“After you.”
Tamsyn swallowed then squared her shoulders, leading Sergeant Terwillis to the back door.
“Tamsyn,” he said quietly, his voice stopping her. “Take your hat off.”
He removed his own cap and tucked it under his arm as Tamsyn did the same.
Then she knocked twice, so softly only a bat would have heard her. She pulled a face, then knocked again, far more forcefully than she’d meant.
There was a short pause and then the door opened.
It was Lucy.
The girl’s eyes widened at the sight of Tamsyn and Sergeant Terwillis.
“Have you found Jowita?” she asked.
Tamsyn attempted a smile but it was probably more like a grimace.
“Hi, Lucy. Is your mum or dad in?”
“Dad’s away. Mum’s put the twins in the bath.”
“Could you get her for us?”
“She gets cross when she’s busy.”
“It’s important that we speak to her, Lucy. Could we come in?”
“I’m not supposed to let anyone in.”
“That’s … a good thing,” Tamsyn said, feeling flustered. “Could you get her for us, please?”
Lucy headed for the stairs, leaving the door wide open. But then she stopped.
“Did you find Jowita? Is she coming home?”
The expression in Tamsyn’s eyes must have said it all because Lucy’s little face crumpled and hot tears spilled down her cheeks.
Without thinking, Tamsyn crouched down, and Lucy flung herself into her arms, knocking Tamsyn’s hat to the floor then holding on tightly, as if she never wanted to let go.
Sergeant Terwillis moved silently to pick up Tamsyn’s hat as the child sobbed with abandon, then walked to the bottom of the stairs.
“Mrs Pryce,” he called, “it’s the police. Can you come down, please?”
The woman appeared, peering over the bannister, red-faced, her t-shirt soaked down the front.
“What the hell’s going on?” she shouted.
“Could you come down, please?” Sergeant Terwillis repeated.
There was a shriek from the bathroom and Mandy Pryce rushed away.
Tamsyn stared helplessly over Lucy’s heaving body as Sergeant Terwillis quietly shut the front door and sat on the edge of the sofa.
With Lucy still welded to her, Tamsyn moved awkwardly from a crouch to kneeling as the child’s tears dampened her uniform. She met her sergeant’s eyes, and his gaze softened, his expression agreeing that no amount of training prepared you for a child’s grief.
Finally, Mrs Pryce reappeared with two pink-faced, damp-haired children in mismatched pyjamas.
Terwillis rose to his feet. “Mrs Pryce, I’m…”
And that was as far as he got.
“Is it about Jowita?”
“Yes, I’m sorry to have to tell you that…”
“Was she the body you found?”
Lucy collapsed against Tamsyn again, her shrieks even wilder.
“Mrs Pryce,” Sergeant Terwillis said firmly, “can we speak in private? Not in front of the children?”
“What? Oh, okay, but I’ll have to put the kids to bed first. Lucy, take the twins upstairs while I talk to the police.”
Lucy didn’t look capable of standing, let alone looking after her brother and sister.
“Perhaps there’s someone you can call to help, Mrs Pryce,” Sergeant Terwillis suggested, casting a meaningful glance at Lucy.
Mrs Pryce followed the direction of his gaze then shrugged tiredly.
“There’s nobody,” she said, towing the twins upstairs with her.
Lucy’s crying was quieter now, her grip on Tamsyn’s neck loosening. As the child nestled against her, Tamsyn kept one arm around her thin shoulders. Upstairs, they heard a TV being turned on. It sounded like cartoons.
It was another ten minutes before Mrs Pryce came downstairs again.
“Lucy, go up with the twins,” she said wearily.
“I want to hear,” Lucy cried, her voice raw.
“I don’t think…” Tamsyn began.
“No!” Lucy said, her chin jutting out. “She was my friend!”
“Upstairs now!” Mrs Pryce yelled.
“I hate you!” Lucy screamed then stormed from the room.
Mrs Pryce didn’t react, and when Tamsyn glanced at Sergeant Terwillis he raised his eyebrows and gave her an almost imperceptible nod.
Tamsyn cleared her throat.
“Mrs Pryce, I’m sorry to have to tell you that Jowita is dead. She was found at Lamorna Cove on Monday and we identified her from her fingerprints.”
Mrs Pryce sighed. “What do I do about her stuff? Her clothes and that?”
Tamsyn paused, trying to recalibrate because this wasn’t the script she’d practised.
“We’re trying to identify her next of kin but it might take a while so…”
“Because I’ll have to clear her room,” said Mrs Pryce. “I’ll need to get a new housekeeper. I can’t do it all myself.”
“Perhaps you can box it up and store it…”
“Can’t you take it?” the woman asked. “Isn’t it evidence or something?”
Sergeant Terwillis answered. “We’ll forward you an address when we have one.”
Mrs Pryce looked like she was going to argue but then she slumped in her seat.
“Poor cow,” she said.
As they left the guest house, Tamsyn breathed a sigh of relief.
“You did well in there,” said Sergeant Terwillis. “It’s never easy when a child is involved.”
“I don’t think Mrs Pryce even cared,” Tamsyn replied. “She seemed more worried about who was going to do the hoovering for her.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” he said. “No two people have the same reaction to death.”
“I feel so sorry for Lucy.”
Sergeant Terwillis climbed into the patrol car, his bulk making the chassis sink a fraction on the passenger side.
“Probably the first time she’s known anyone who died,” he agreed quietly. “But you were good with her. She’ll remember that.”
It felt like a heavy weight of responsibility, but Tamsyn was glad she’d been there for Lucy, too.
She’ll remember me, thought Tamsyn. She’ll remember me the way I remember that officer who looked after me when Dad died.
With two hours still to go before the end of her shift, Tamsyn felt drained. Sergeant Terwillis had told her to drive to McDonalds where they could talk about the evening, drink some bad coffee, and write up their notes.
But before they’d taken more than a sip, they were called to a fight outside Wetherspoon’s.
As they hurried to the scene, pulling up outside the pub, Tamsyn saw a large group of men yelling at each other, lots of raised voices, some pushing and shoving.
Nervously, she ran her fingers over the incapacitant spray.
“You won’t need that,” said Sergeant Terwillis.
“How do you know?”
He tapped the side of his head.
“Experience. Come on, Tamsyn, time to practise your conflict resolution skills,” he said dryly.
Several of the men slunk away when they saw the patrol car, and a couple of others ducked back inside the pub, but a core of seven remained outside, red-faced and shouting abuse at each other and at the two officers.
“Just make steady progress, but don’t rush to the fight. You’ll be going to loads and loads of these, drunken mates fighting over football or some girl. It’s usually handbags at dawn, and most of them get worse injuries playing rugby at the weekend.” He gave her a small smile. “I will guarantee that no one will make a complaint. They’ll all be mates again tomorrow and laughing about who can take a punch and who can’t. As long as no one makes a complaint and there’s no damage, no harm done.” He saw that she was nervous and spoke more seriously. “You’ll learn, Tamsyn, we’ve all been there – even an old sweat like me – and you will know when we have got to get to a fight quick. For now, just take names and addresses, if they give them … I’ll probably know most of them anyway, and you’ll get to recognise them, too.”
His knowing eyes scanned the small crowd.
“Call it in to Control,” he said to Tamsyn, “and get an ambulance for that one.” He pointed at a man who was sitting on the kerb, bleeding from a head wound.
Then he climbed out of the car and headed towards them. Tamsyn followed close behind, talking breathlessly to Control.
“Now then, lads,” Terwillis said mildly. “Let’s get you out of the road before someone is run over.”
“Fuck off, pig!” one man mumbled, but kept his eyes down when Terwillis turned his head to stare at him.
“We’ve got an ambulance coming for your friend,” said Tamsyn, pulling on a pair of disposable gloves, hoping she didn’t get blood on her new uniform. It was still damp from Lucy’s tears.
But the fight seemed to have gone out of the group, and most of them went back to their pints and ciders in the pub. Terwillis chatted pleasantly to the two men who stayed outside, keeping one eye on Tamsyn as she checked on the injured man. She was relieved that she didn’t know any of the people involved. One day she probably would.
When the paramedics arrived to take over, Terwillis and Tamsyn went inside to talk to the pub staff. As there hadn’t been any damage, and the man with the head wound insisted that he’d fallen over, there wasn’t much for them to do except make sure that closing time didn’t bring any more incidents.
“So, how was your first night with a bit of real policing?” Sergeant Terwillis smiled at her as she drove them back to the police station.
“I’m not sure I could have dealt with that pub fight by myself,” Tamsyn said honestly.
“Maybe not right away, but you will,” he said. “Confidence is the key and most of the time people want the police to sort it out, even if you get a lot of verbal from them. It’s working out which ones are all mouth and which ones are going to kick off, and that comes from experience. You stayed calm, you did alright.”
“Thank you, sarge,” said Tamsyn.
“Bikers and Travellers are the ones I’ve been to where there’s been blood and snot all over the place,” Sergeant Terwillis reminisced, “but nobody makes a complaint. It was like part of a good night out for them. And when I was based at Plymouth, the squaddies, sailors and bootnecks were all the same: as long as nobody was really hurt and the Red Caps or shore patrol didn’t find them before getting back to barracks, it was part of life.”
Back at the station, Tamsyn finished up her notes, joined in the handover briefing to the next shift, and changed into her jeans.
It was gone 1am and she was tired but too wired to sleep. She turned down Jamie’s offer of a lift home and decided to walk back via Newlyn harbour. She wanted to see if her grandfather was there and how his interview with DC Forshaw had gone. She was annoyed with herself for forgetting to tell the inspector that her grandfather had recognised Saemira aka Jowita. She was also angry that she’d lost her temper with Ollie and been unprofessional. It was a good thing no one else had heard her call him a dickhead. How many times had she been told that she had to stay calm in all situations? She’d let Chloe get to her the night before, too.
I need to toughen up – that’s what the DI had told her.
It had been a full-on day with so many highs and lows. She was proud of how she’d helped Sergeant Terwillis with the pub fight, even though not much had happened in the end. Although she had helped the guy who was bleeding – sort of helped him.
Her thoughts strayed back to Lucy, and she wondered how she was doing. With everything they’d learned about Saemira Ruçi, aka Jowita Wojciechowski, aka Jowita Nowak, the gun she’d hidden, her involvement with an international drug ring – it was hard to square that with the woman who’d been Lucy’s friend. She hadn’t asked Lucy to cover for her or try and get her into selling drugs at the primary school or anything illegal that they were aware of; she’d been kind to a lonely little girl. Although that might have changed in time. After all, it was a textbook example of grooming.
The roads were almost empty now, and even Newlyn harbour, which was open 24/7, seemed quiet. But at first light, the fishermen would be heading out, and the fish market opened at 4am, with buyers online from all over the country going to work as the fish were weighed and graded.
She could see the green sector light on the tip of North Pier, and a light flickered on in the ice house. Two red lights indicated Mary Williams Pier, and opposite those were where the leisure craft tied up. Her grandfather’s punt wasn’t at its mooring, and the Old Quay was completely empty. It was thought to be around 600 years old – nobody was really sure but the Mayflower had stopped there in 1620 to take on water on its way to the New World. She’d done a project on it at school.
North and South Piers had been added in Victorian times and the Mary Williams Pier in 1980. Tamsyn’s grandfather had been there when Queen Elizabeth II had officially opened it. There’d been a photograph of him meeting Her Majesty in The Cornishman – the framed photograph hung over the mantelpiece at home now.
The harbour was all so familiar to her. It was as much home as the cottage in Gulval.
She saw that Mari-morgans was still tied fast down the pontoon, but there was no sign of Uncle George.
Disappointed, she headed home, alone with her thoughts. She sent a quick message to Jess to see if she was still awake, but there was no reply.
When she finally reached the cottage, she kicked off her trainers and curled up under the duvet with Mo at her feet.