Orkney Twilight by Clare Carson Read Free Book Online Page A

the Rover must have pulled in and reported her. She considered the possibility of legging it, hesitated, indecisive, left it too late to scarper, gave herself no choice but to stay put and bluff. The panda car pulled up beside her, hazard lights flashing. A hefty copper struggled with the door, levered himself on to the kerb and surveyed her nearly finished peace symbol.
    ‘You’ve missed one of the arms,’ he said.
    She shrugged.
    ‘Ban the bomb. I’ve had my weekend leave cancelled because of you lot.’ She had an urge to tell him to think about the overtime he would be paid.
    He pre-empted her train of thought. ‘We’ve been so stretched these last few weeks, what with the miners’ strike and half of us having to provide support in the north and everybody else having to play musical chairs to cover the gaps. I’ve had enough overtime to pay for my summer holiday twice over already. And now we’ve been landed with you and your bloody march. You ban the bombers.’
    He shook his head sadly. ‘You know what, I’ve been on the beat for thirty years and if I’ve learned one thing, it’s this.’
    He paused. She smiled expectantly. He pushed the peak of his cap up with one hand and put the other behind his back. ‘There are three types of people in this world. You’ve got your law-abiding citizens, your criminals and your stirrers.’
    She contained the urge to smirk.
    He raised an eyebrow. ‘Harder to tell, of course, with teenagers. So you’re going to have to enlighten me. Law-abiding citizen, criminal or stirrer: which, young lady, do you intend to be when you finally get round to growing up?’
    She smiled sweetly again, maintained her silence.
    ‘Well, I can see that you’re a nice girl really.’ He pulled out his notebook. ‘Boyfriend get you into this lot, did he?’ She nodded. He flicked the pages until he found a clean sheet. ‘Now. What’s your name?’
    ‘Sam.’
    ‘Sam, short for Samantha.’
    ‘It’s just Sam.’ Liz had named her after an unfulfilled wish for a boy and a beloved dead grandfather.
    ‘Sam what?’
    ‘Sam Coyle.’
    The copper gave her a look of paternal sternness.
    ‘What are your parents going to think about this then?’
    She shrugged.
    He narrowed his eyes. Brows drawn. Perturbed. ‘Your dad’s not a copper is he?’
    The alarm must have shown on her face. How had he worked that one out? Had the man in the Rover identified her? Were the Ministry of Defence police on her trail? The blood drained from her head. Her hands were clammy. Legs heavy.
    The copper grinned. ‘I can always tell,’ he said. ‘Don’t quite know what it is. Perhaps it’s the attitude. Quietly cocky. I tell you what though, I wish I had a fiver for every copper’s kid I’ve had to caution. And it’s usually the daughters, would you believe.’ He shook his head. ‘So where’s your dad stationed then?’
    ‘He works undercover,’ she said. Words tumbling out in her relief that he had just guessed; he hadn’t been told that her dad was a cop. ‘The Diggers,’ she added.
    He inhaled sharply. ‘The Diggers,’ he repeated. ‘Oh, I’ve heard talk about them. Never sure whether they really existed or not.’
    He paused. He pointed the butt end of his pen at her. And then he used its tip to scratch the back of his head. His actions were making her feel uneasy again. She tried to inveigle his mind, identify what was disturbing him.
    He caught her staring at him. He dropped his jovial copper face back into place. ‘Well, I can see I’m going to have to revise my theory now,’ he said. ‘Let’s see: you’ve got your law-abiding citizens, your criminals, your stirrers. And, in a class all of their own, your policemen’s daughters.’
    He replaced his notebook in his pocket. ‘I’m going to have to sort this out with the Governor. You’d better run along now before you land yourself in any more trouble.’
    She knew better than to ignore her exit cue, turned silently and strode