Page 5 of Four of Hearts

Please, Grace, don’t ...

Grace’s foot came down hard on his cousin’s toes. The man roared in pain, only to have the cry snapped in two by Grace’s elbow connecting with his face. His nose exploded, blood casting a rose of gore over his cheeks, into his eyes.

Then Grace was running, and Harry was running, too, because he could see the pistol being raised again, levelling at her back as she sprinted towards him, saw a finger squeeze on the trigger, heard the gunshot, watched Grace drop like a puppet with its strings cut.

‘Grace!’

Harry was sitting up in bed, his yell still echoing in his head.

‘Harry?’

Grace’s voice swirled in the darkness, a thin thread of reality in the dream he was still waking from. He felt a hand rest on his, and squeeze.

‘You were dreaming. You called out my name.’

Harry opened his eyes, saw faint moonlight cut a white blade across the bed, across their hands; a thin, silvery thread tying them together.

‘Nightmare,’ he said. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘You didn’t. I’d nipped to the loo. I was awake anyway. Then you shouted. What was it about?’

Harry wasn’t entirely sure. A church. Grace. His cousin. Ben and Liz. Arthur. Confusion. Violence. Blood.

‘Just old memories,’ he lied, but gently so, squeezing Grace’s hand in return. ‘They still come back.’

‘I know.’

A kiss, soft as a butterfly, brushed against his cheek.

Harry stared at his own hand wrapped in Grace’s, saw the black silicone bands they’d placed on each other’s fingers the day before.

‘I’m fine,’ he said.

Even in the darkness, he could feel Grace smiling.

‘Of course you are,’ she said. ‘You’re with me!’

Harry laughed, leaned back, and Grace rested herself on his shoulder.

They slept then, and whatever had brought on the nightmare that had woken him, was gone.

THREE

Come Monday morning and Harry was in the office, standing in front of a disconcertingly blank white board, wondering if something he’d said had somehow managed to upset every single one of the team.

The morning had begun well, which had been quite the relief, considering the nightmare that had woken him during the night. He and Grace had been up early enough to enjoy the first glimmer of sunlight through the curtains. After a while spent together enjoying each other’s warmth under the duvet, they’d then shared a shower. This had started off very enthusiastically on all fronts, then descended into lots of laughter, especially when, considering what they were doing, the shower door pinged off its hinges at just the wrong moment.

After a hearty breakfast of bacon and black pudding from Cockett’s, eggs from a local farmer, and fresh bread, also from Cockett’s, Harry had chuckled to himself all the way to work at the memory of it. He’d taken the long way round as well, with Smudge bouncing along in front of him, as they’d followed narrow paths through the fields, to come down into the back of Gayle, and then on into Hawes. As journeys to work went, this, Harry believed, was one of the greatest on the planet.A life-affirming smattering of friendly nods and waves as he’d wandered down into the town had only set his smile more firmly on his face. Confirmation, if any was needed, that here, of all places, he was home.

‘Right then,’ Harry began, keen to crack on with the Action Book. Unlike the board behind him, it was rather full of things for them to be getting on with. That didn’t necessarily mean it was all exciting and interesting. Far from it, in most cases. But jobs had to be done, investigations and phone calls and emails and all kinds of other matters had to be followed up on, so that’s what they would be doing.

A hand was raised.

‘Bit early for questions, isn’t it, Matt?’ he asked, as the detective sergeant lowered his hand.

‘That all depends on the question, don’t you think?’ Matt replied.

It was an answer that confused Harry utterly, and so did the man’s tone. Matt wasn’t one for sharpening the edge of his words with his tongue, yet Harry felt sure he heard a hint of bared blade in them.