This is a continuation of 'The New Assistant' and 'The Artist and the Cop.' It does not matter if you've not read the other stories, but it might help a little. There is a tragedy at the very start of this story which is about a grieving woman and her young friend. Then it becomes a simple love story. It includes two people who are under eighteen at the beginning, but they are not involved in any sexual activity until after they both become eighteen.
There is some mild bondage and all sexual activity is consensual. All the people involved are fictitious.
I am very grateful to Maonaigh for encouragement, critical comments and editing skills. I suggest that you read his submissions.
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I heard the doorbell and dried my hands on a dishtowel before heading to the door. It was Isha and another police officer in uniform, a chief inspector I think.
"Isha?" I asked.
I stepped back and Isha led the way to the lounge. I stood looking at her and had a very bad feeling.
"Milly, Jenny was on a drugs raid this morning and she's been stabbed. It's serious, she's in hospital and we're going to take you there."
I stood there with my mouth open. For just a second there I thought she said that Jenny had been stabbed. When I looked at the male officer I realised that I'd heard her correctly. "What?"
"Milly, grab your bag and let's go. Jenny needs you."
Isha sat in the back of the police car with me, holding my hand. "What happened?"
"A guy tried to run, grabbed a kitchen knife and it went under Jenny's stab vest." We were in a queue of traffic and going nowhere fast, the driver picked up the microphone and I heard him speak.
"Alpha five to control, en route to the hospital, urgent, using blues." With that the car lit up with blue lights, the sirens came on and the traffic parted for the next twenty minutes as we sped along the lanes, all the time the driver repeatedly muttered, "We need to get there."
We screeched to a halt at the hospital door and he told us to go. Isha grabbed my hand and ran through the hospital dragging me along. We reached a waiting room where half a dozen men waited, some in uniform, a couple that I knew and not one of them could look me in the eye. The chief inspector dashed in behind us and asked, "Well?"
One of the officers said, "In the theatre, boss." I turned to him, he was close to tears as he hugged me and we sat down.
Two hours passed and a doctor came to speak to me. I felt the others pressing close behind me. "Jenny has a serious injury and we've operated, but now we need to wait. There are several things that could go wrong, but hopefully, she should recover. She's being transferred to ICU just now; a nurse will come and get you shortly." She looked around the room, "Just Milly that is."
I'd never seen anyone look that bad. There were tubes and leads everywhere. There was a nurse hovering constantly and she never stopped checking or adjusting something. I was worried, I loved her and she'd made me feel whole again. Isha came in to see me and brought coffee a couple of times. I eventually fell asleep for about an hour that night but the rest of the time I was in a daze.
About nine the following morning the chief inspector, John Waters, arrived. He asked how things were. I told him what I could and thanked him for the previous day. "Jenny was one of my staff. We try to look out for each other and it gets a bit personal sometimes. I've known Jenny for a long time and liked her; that makes it harder."
A few minutes later we were interrupted by an alarm, then a second, then all hell broke loose and we were pushed out. I'll never forget the next forty minutes. I've never seen so many doctors and nurses or such frantic activity. It was clear that things were serious. John stood there saying "No, no," repeatedly.
Quiet, total and complete silence. So many faces that looked defeated and dejected. One doctor in green scrubs came over to me. "I'm so sorry, so very sorry. I've no idea what happened, we tried everything." John burst into tears before me, but I'm glad that he was able to hold me up or I'd have fallen down.
I looked around. Standing there were about a dozen police officers, they looked broken as well. They'd lost a colleague, a friend, and were taking it hard. As John led me away almost all of them patted my shoulder or shook my hand, most said sorry as if it had been their fault. A couple of them were crying.
Isha was waiting at the house when John and I arrived. She was making tea when I heard the door. It was Alan, the Vicar, he came over and I stood to hug him, as I did so I let go and I sobbed very hard. I've had a difficult relationship with religion, but not with Alan and I asked him to pray for Jenny. I don't know why but it seemed appropriate; the four of us joined hands and Alan said some nice words.
Isha stayed with me. I have no idea what I'd have done without her. The next couple of days were a blur, lots of police officers came round and they were all very kind. Mary Wilson was a regular visitor and stood in when Isha had to go away. She was married to Jenny's first Sergeant and had befriended me a few years earlier. She understood. There was talk about the funeral but the police made all of the arrangements and I was grateful for that.
Funeral
Victoria, Jess, Jane and Fiona arrived the evening before the funeral. I don't remember much about anything that happened that day except that I was pleased to have some more friendly and supportive faces round about me.
The funeral was a formal affair with dozens of police officers, many in dress uniform who formed a guard of honour. The coffin was draped with the police flag and it was carried by her colleagues. She would have liked that. I was in a daze, this was the second time. What had I done to deserve this?
As I walked into the crematorium behind the coffin Fiona came alongside me and put an arm around my waist. I no longer looked down on her as I had done for so many years as she was now taller than me. She smiled at me and it made me feel a little better. Her sister, Jane, was on my other side; she touched my arm and held my hand. It too made me smile but only briefly.
I don't remember much of the service or the funeral tea. Fiona never strayed very far from me and later, at home, she took me up to bed and tucked me in. The last thing that I heard was her saying to Jess, "I'll stay here tonight, just in case she needs something."
When I woke the next morning I saw Fiona sitting on the floor leaning back against the wall holding a mug of something. She saw me, smiled and said, "Good morning, would you like tea?" I nodded and she went away.
