Authors: Chris Simms
03-Savage Moon (47 page)
‘How can you be so sure? I mean, you’re in the middle of nowhere, dancing around in some field, and the lead guy suddenly announces it’s time for an orgy. If Ellie was there voluntarily . . .’ His eyes swept the ceiling. ‘It worries me. You know how hard this sort of stuff is to prove in court.’
‘You’re talking about rape? Jon, you need to chat with Ellie. I don’t think being a Wiccan involves free love with the other followers.’
Jon poured boiling water into the cups. ‘I’ve got to get ready for work. The fire investigation officer and forensics are coming to the station at ten for a strategy meeting.’
‘By the way, I’ve been looking at nurseries for Holly.’
Jon paused. His wife wanted to return to her job in a beauty salon for a couple of days a week once Holly reached her first birthday. The earnings would barely cover child care costs, but Alice wanted to avoid becoming a stay-at-home mum. She had friends who’d chosen that role and she worried that, like them, eventually she’d only be able to talk about baby-related issues.
‘So which ones look like the best for Holly?’ he said, turning round in the doorway.
She handed a beaker of apple juice to their daughter. ‘Well, the best one by a mile is called Sunshine, it’s connected to St Martin’s church.’
‘The Church of England place?’
‘Yes, I know it’s a bit happy clappy, but it’s got very good links to the primary school near to it. I’m thinking long term here, but it will set her up perfectly for when we look at secondary schools.’
Jon’s mind reeled. ‘Hang on, we were talking about nurseries just now.’
‘I know, but we need to think ahead.’
‘Jesus Alice, she isn’t even one yet.’ Why did no one warn him having kids made everything so bloody complicated?
She shook her head. ‘I never thought I’d be one of those horrible calculating parents, but you don’t want her ending up at the Dalewood do you?’
Jon thought about the nearby comprehensive. Uniformed officers were called out to it most days and the most recent talk was about the school employing private security to try and keep control. ‘No.’
‘Which leaves Trinity. If Holly has been educated in faith schools, she stands a far better chance of getting in there.’
Jon looked at her. ‘You’ll be telling me we’ll start needing to go to church next.’
Alice glanced away. ‘When the time comes, it’ll certainly help.’
Jon felt his eyes widen. ‘Tell me that’s a frigging joke.’
‘It’s an hour of your Sunday, Jon. Hardly much to ask.’
Not if we’ve had a boy by then and I’ve started taking him to min-rugby, thought Jon. He pointed a finger. ‘Anyway. Who says we’ll still be in this little terrace by the time Holly starts Sunday school? I could have been promoted and we’ll be living somewhere out in Cheshire. Hale or round those parts. There are no sink schools out there.’
Alice raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe if you didn’t punch your senior officers that would be a possibility.’
Jon cringed at the memory of the incident with McCloughlin.
‘OK, it might not be happening anytime soon.’
Alice smiled. ‘Come on, Jon. You and desks don’t go to- gether. Running an incident room will make you miserable as sin, and you know it.’
As usual, he thought, she had him totally sussed. Which left them living here and aiming for the local Church of England place. His thoughts turned again to his childhood and how much Dave and Ellie resented being made to attend Sunday school. And look at how things had turned out. Dave living God knows where and Ellie wanting to become a witch. ‘One thing, Ali. If we end up going down that route, we make it perfectly plain to Holly – and any other kids we have – that we don’t believe in any of that God stuff, alright?’
‘What if she wants to believe in it?’
Jon shrugged. ‘If she does, and it’s of her own free will, fine. But if she starts parroting Jesus Loves Me shit, I reserve the right to step in with my own thoughts on the matter.’
‘And explain that Mummy and Daddy only went to church to get her a place at a good school?’ Alice smiled provocatively.
Jon looked at his daughter sucking noisily on her beaker, a nappy bulging out from beneath her baby-gro. ‘She’ll have to learn everyone bullshits a little bit to get by.’
Alice laughed. ‘I’ll let you, the fine upstanding policeman, tell her that.’
He went up stairs. In their bedroom, he paused in front of the mirror. Thirty-five years old. He examined himself. Six-feetfour, fifteen and a half stone. The fine upstanding policeman, according to Alice. A hand went to his stomach and he pinched a slight roll of fat. It was beginning to build up, no matter how much time he spent training. He reflected on his dad, still in decent shape having just pipped sixty. ‘Fingers crossed, Jon,’ he murmured, reaching for a towel.
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