This chapter does NOT contain any more horrific incidents. The previous one was more than hard enough to write.

CHAPTER 36
They let me see her, in the end, in a bay in ICU, curtains drawn around us for what privacy a bit of pleated cloth could provide. They’d obviously cut away a lot of her hair, and a theatre scrub cap was in place, probably to conceal the damage I had suspected. There was a sheet over her, tucked in firmly for the same obvious reasons, but someone with a heart had left one of her arms free so that I could take it, hold it and pretend it wasn’t bloody terminally cooling. I don’t know how long I spent with her, but I almost bit through my hand stifling my howl of utter loss.

I couldn’t stifle my sobs, though.

In the end, she had to be moved, to the fucking morgue, how cool is that, as cool as her hand had been. Tom came for me, firmly steering, pushing and dragging really, until we were at his car.

“Got no food in, butt”

“You’re not going home, love. Connie’s sorting the spare room out, and she says we’ve got a new toothbrush in the bathroom cupboard. If you’re up to it, I’ll drive you over to yours tomorrow to pick up some bits and pieces, but you’re staying with us for now. One thing we do need to do is, sorry, we need to tell her mother. You can send her a mail, arrange a video chat, yeah? She has to be told, and best from us rather than some civil servant”

“Why civil servant?”

“Her High Commission will have been informed, love, death of one of their nationals”

“Oh”

I wasn’t processing things well, not in any way, so I let Tom take charge, then Connie, until I was sitting in their sofa, a mug of tea cooling untouched beside me. One of their dogs, an elderly Staffy cross, clambered heavily onto the seat beside me, with all the entitlement in the world, and slumped into me with a grunt. Another, Nero, a younger black Labrador, simply dropped his head onto my lap and rolled his eyes to look up at me as he waited to be stroked or scratched, and that was when I finally broke down.

My hosts were the souls of patience, letting me run my course until I simply had no more tears, and then, with their help, I pulled out my phone and drafted and sent that email to Raewyn. Her reply was almost immediate.

‘Oh Jen, love, High Commission already called. Can’t write much, sorry. Got my sister and Mum with me who’s with you?’

I paused, then started typing again.

‘Work partner and his wife looking after me. We were the ambulance crew. So sorry.’

The pause this time was longer, but so was the message.

‘Hi Jen. This is Tania, Rae’s Mum. We’re asking for a big favour, and that is to get the authorities to hold off on anything till we are there. We’re trying to sort tickets out now, and we will say farewell to our girl properly. She must not be buried or cremated until we have done that. Please do that for us, and we will see you as soon as we can. Which is your easiest airport?’

I suggested Heathrow for the easier train links and more frequent flights, before realising I was almost back in work mode, which threw me back into full-on grief. Tom took over the mail exchanges, with an occasional check with me, and then we were done.

It took me three days before I was even semi-functional, and then there was a knock on Tom’s door: Dai Gould, the lovely man. Another monster hug, then onto the reason for his visit.

“We got the message about the funeral, Jen, and as there’s going to be an inquest, she’s still with the hospital for now. Just wanted to let you know we found the cars in a couple of adjoining lockups, and SOCO got DNA off them. Air bags had gone off, and they’d cut some of them away, but we also got decent snaps from that petrol station. By now, their doors should have gone in”

Tom was intrigued.

“Not just ‘making enquiries’ with a knock on the door?”

“Nope. Firearms teams and dog units. They’re linked to that one you had the other day, with the fiddled airbag”

He paused, then sighed.

“We had help as well, another OCG. They dropped a couple of off-record hints. Not saying any more on that one. Are you going to be okay for the inquest?”

I shrugged, wordless yet again, and Tom took over.

“Some of Angela’s family are flying over, Sergeant. I passed the word, but no harm in repeating it: please hold off on anything till they’re here”

He nodded.

“Fully understand that one. Do you think they’ll want to do a VIS? Victim Impact Statement?”

“We can ask”

“Please. I did Traffic for a lot of years, and it is… All too often, we get a driver being a real tit, not just the actively, deliberately dangerous ones, but the distracted, inflated idea of their driving skills, just-bend-the-rules-a-little-nobody-will-care knobs. Barry and Bryn will tell you about some, but we all have the same prepared speech, the one about what if they’d run into a pedestrian, or a kid playing, and this…”

He paused, then added his apologies.

“No different for you, of course, in your job, but we had a colleague, moved over to England, bloody good sergeant, and I hear he had a real nasty, moved indoors to Custody. It builds up. To be honest, it’s why I came off Traffic, and it’s why I feel no shame in doing so. Oh, shit: what I’m trying to say, Jen, is that you did what we would all hope we would. We lost Adam to the job he was good at; please tell me you’re staying with your own job”

He shook his head, then tried to smile.

“Gushing like a teenager, me. Can you give me a second?”

He pulled out a mobile, tapping at a speed dial number.

“Rob, Dai Gould. I’m with Tom and Jen, keeping them in the loop. Putting you on speaker. What we got?”

He hit the button, and we got the usual tinny sound.

“Both lifted, Sergeant. In bed. Avoiding names, aye? Target One had a sword on his bed and decided to wave it. He got tasered, then bitten. Target Two was a little easier, but his Dad and brother got in the way”

“Nicked?”

“Nicked. And with appropriate use of et cetera et cetera. Bryn’s got a cut under his eye, and Dad got sprayed, brother got bitten, And Target One had a grow in his attic, while Target Two had dealing kit and interesting white powder. Oh, and a huge pile of boxed trainers, same type as got lifted from that curtain-sider at Sarn Park a week ago. And the lads are still searching. Give those two our best, Sarge”

“They heard, Rob. Everyone else safe?”

“Just the one wallop to Bryn, actually from Target One’s mother. Mobile phone she wouldn’t put away when he told her to, so she hit him with it”

“Thanks, butt. I’ll catch up back at the nick”

He put the phone away, then turned to look at me, once more with deep concern in every line of his face.

“That is really what I came round for, Jen. There is nothing else I can offer but assurances, and as you can see, we are doing what we can. I’m going to leave you in peace now, but remember that we are all here for you. Anything you need, just ring—I’ll leave you my private number, okay?”

He was gone, and I was left with a new emotion, that of hatred. I hoped the dog bites would get infected.

Tania, Rae and Ange’s younger sister Tihani arrived in Cardiff the next day, by train from Heathrow via Reading, and it was my own old nursing hostel digs that volunteered three single rooms for them, for however long they might need them. Tania was a wiry woman, with more elaborate tattoos around her face than Raewyn, while Tihani only bore one, outlining her nose.

Tom had taken me to the station to collect them, his car of necessity being a larger one suitable for transporting dogs and dragging caravans, and each of us got hugged in turn. Tania whispered in my ear, “Be welcome to our family, daughter-woman”, and I had to sit down for a while.

We stopped in at Tom and Connie’s for a cuppa, before Tania, clearly a true matriarch, simply said., “We will go and see our woman now”

Tom rang the morgue for clearance, and then we were in that horrible place, bodies in drawers like so many closed files, and Tihani had a package for the attendant.

“My sister will move on in the old ways. This is her clothing for the journey. And we will cleanse her now”

The mortician clearly realised that whatever he did, the women would have their way, and so he simply stood back. It was clearly ritual, very little actually being done, but they laid garments over my lover’s form, a woven skirt and some sort of shoulder wrap, plus a headdress with feathers. Tania and Tihani were almost chanting in what I assumed was Maori, but I caught the phrase ‘Angela Hinemoa Meads’ a couple of times. Rae simply stood by me, wrapping me up in her arms and weeping into my jacket.

We said our farewells at last, and the mortician promised to clothe Angela Hinemoa appropriately, and as we walked back to the car, Tania explained.

“Our daughter-woman must be clothed correctly to enter the next world, and the spirits must be told who she is. We sing, and recite her ancestry, and her deeds, so that they know who to expect. I let them know who she is, and how her name predicted her life, the way good names do”

“What do you mean?”

“Hinemoa, love. A woman who crossed great waters to find her true lover, as she did. Now, do you have a pub for tonight? I want to get drunk”