Truth Lies Waiting (Davy Johnson Series Book 1) by Emma Salisbury Page A

your place,’ he agrees amiably, ‘Whereaboots?’ I point to the
back entry where I want to be dropped off, knocking on the car window as we
pass the women.
    ‘Ye
know ‘em, like?’ Kiddie cop enquires, and I hear the meanness in his voice, the
way he’s judging them because their clothes are shabby. A sly smile spreads
across his face as he turns to look at me and there’s a glint in his eye like
he has my measure. He wants to know if I’ve fucked them but isn’t sure he can
get away with asking in front of MacIntyre. The car comes to a stop some twenty
yards or so in front of them and the older cop studies them in his wing mirror.
The girls have spotted me and nudge Aunt Jude; all three are now smiling and
waving like it’s a limo I’m about to step out of rather than a patrol car.
Their pleasure at seeing me makes me feel wanted. ‘They’re my family,’ I say
proudly, before climbing out of the car.
    Jude’s
smile fades as I move gingerly towards them. ‘What the hell happened?’ she asks
urgently, simultaneously unhooking herself from the girls and rushing to my
side. ‘Lorella! Quickly, help him!’ she motions with her free hand for Lorella
to move to my other side and help Jude carry my weight. Lorella’s twin, Marcia,
takes her sister’s shopping bag, stepping in front of us so that she can undo
the latch on the gate which leads to the back of their home. The girls make
sympathetic noises and Lorella pats my arm every time I suck in my breath, Jude
is already in practical mode, saying she’ll have a proper look and strap it up for
me.
    An
old memory floats into my mind’s eye, Jude in a starched uniform, picking me up
from school when Mum’s work ran on. ‘Didn’t ye used to be a nurse when I was
little?’ I ask, eager to confirm or deny the picture in my head. Jude throws
her had back and laughs, ‘Aye, Davy, right enough,’ she splutters, ‘I was also
a French maid and a dominatrix the other days of the week, only your teachers
asked me to keep my coat on if I was wearing those get ups when I came to pick
you up.’
    The
girls, relieved I wasn’t going to pass out on them, join in: ‘Ye get asked to
wear all sorts now though, Davy,’ Lorella begins, ‘I’ve got a traffic warden’s
uniform I wear for one punter,’ ‘an’ I’ve got a lollipop lady’s uniform for one
o’ mine!’ Marcia adds. ‘Including the lollipop?’ I ask mischievously and she
nods, ‘Too right!’
    I
play along with the banter as a way of reassuring them I’m OK, although in
truth it couldn’t hurt more if my leg had been hacked off with a blunt
instrument. To their credit, despite seeing me climb out of a police car,
injured, no one asks me any questions, although I’m not yet sure what answers I
can give. As we pass through the gate into the girls’ back yard I look back
towards MacIntyre’s squad car, still parked at the end of the close where he’d
dropped me off. The kiddie cop, oblivious in the passenger seat, picks his nose
with his index finger before transferring it to his mouth.
    And
MacIntyre, rigid in the driver’s seat beside him, stares at me as though
planning how to wipe me off the face of the earth.

9
    Once indoors I
drop the bravado and let Marcia help me into a chair in the shared front room
while I mutter every swear word I can think of to describe the pain.
    ‘Roll
down your jeans Davy,’ Jude instructs and I lift myself gingerly off the seat
as she helps pull my jeans down over my hips, halting mid-thigh. Lorella goes
into the kitchen returning with what looks like a bottle of cough medicine and
a blister pack of pills. She hands me two tablets: ‘Co-codemol,’ she says
authoritatively, ‘swill them down with this,’ The bottle is labelled Oramorph and the patient’s name beneath it does not belong to anyone in the house. I
unscrew the bottle cap and tip my head back to swallow the pills in two large
gulps. Jude lifts the bottle from my hands and replaces the lid,