CHAPTER 48
We took some time in the hospital’s staff canteen for a fresh brew and a chance to unwind, and one of the radiologists spotted us as the crew who’d brought the biker in.

“Spent a while looking at his neck, but he’s fine. Had a seriously good helmet on, thankfully”

“Cracked right through the visor pivot, though”

“That’s how they work, love. They crumple so his head doesn’t. Did you look at the back of it? Big scrape there; they’ve taken him for an MRI in case of rotational brain injury, God knows how he didn’t break anything. Third biker in today, and one of the other two is in theatre getting Meccano in his leg. Absolutely shattered, it is”

Tom looked up from his coffee.

“And the other?”

“DOA, or rather at the scene. Sorry, but there’ll be more, the way this weather’s going. Off to look at the MRI results; fingers crossed. Have a good shift, folks”

As she walked off, Tom muttered something about bringing a certain car driver to the morgue for a lesson in patience, but then drained his cup and stood.

“Come on, Jen. Let’s go and find somewhere to lurk with a better food choice”

“Connie not done you a box today?”

“She’s down the vets; one of our dogs is, well, heading for the big park in the sky”

“Oh shit, butt. Sorry to hear. Which one?”

“Doris, the Staffy bitch. She’s seventeen next month, we think, if she makes it”

“You think?”

“We took her on six years ago as a rescue dog, Jen. We have a couple, Nero and Molly, that we’ve had from pups, but the others are rescue dogs. We pick them so that they can have a decent, well, retirement; they tend to get passed over in favour of puppies, older dogs”

He sighed, shaking his head.

“Problem is that older dogs bloody obviously die sooner, so we got used to losing one every so often. Don’t like it, but for the dogs, it’s either people like us, or a pound. Or they just get put down”

He gave me a sad smile.

“We’re in an online group, me and her; older dogs and their owners. I don’t mean the dogs are on, of course. We get things like therapy and diet recommendations. There’s even an entire board devoted to big dog hip problems. Anyway, Connie’s possibly going to be coming home with a collar, and then I’ll be digging again”

“Burial?”

“Sort of. Our vet does a cremation service, and each of our boys and girls gets a rose bush. Sorry; morbid subject. Where shall we lurk?”

That question became academic as our radio directed us to transfer a chemo patient from Diana’s to Dai’s, and once we were free, I had an idea, pulling out that business card Amina had passed me.

“This could be worth a look, Tom. Told the cakes look good, and I’m sure they’ll have some decent rolls. Give it a try?”

He looked at the address.

“Can’t hurt. If it turns out to be rubbish, there’s always Elmers. They do a great all-day breakfast”

“There are other places to eat there that don’t involve lard, butt”

“Yeah, but a boy needs his grease. Get rolling?”

“Aye”

The shop turned out to be on a corner, almost opposite the big Methodist place, and there was a decent queue for service. The window had a display of multiple types of loaf, which I assumed were preserved in some way, and the counter was the classic glass affair, one half devoted to tubs of sandwich fillings and the other to a mix of pastries, some of them rather elaborate. One of them, like a large jam tart or small flan, was filled with halved strawberries and half-covered in whipped cream, and it had my name on it as soon as I saw it.

There were two staff working, a tall man and a middle-aged woman, both of them chatty, and I heard three of the people in front ask variations of, “Has Gemma got any/made any…?”

The woman immediately in front of us was one, asking, “Has Gemma got any of those cream slices coming?”

The man replied, “I’ll ask”, and called through an archway. A familiar figure appeared, now clad in chef’s whites, to confirm that said cakes would be ready in an hour, and then her eyes widened as she spotted the two of us.

“Er---Jen? Tom?”

We both nodded, Tom clearly surprised.

“Gemma?”

She turned to the other two workers.

“I’ll explain later, Frank, Judy, but, well, what are you two after?”

I waved at the sandwich display.

“Keeping Tom here away from greasy food, Gemma. Lunch. And I want one of those strawberry things”

“Right. Frank?”

“Yes?”

“I’m paying for these two, okay?”

“No, it isn’t”

“Sorry?”

“I think I’ve worked it out, woman, so it’ll be on the house this time. You two on a break?”

“Yeah. Been a busy day, so we’re just catching up with our own care and feeding now”

Tom huffed.

“I was going to go into Elmer’s”

‘Frank’ looked at him, eyes narrowed.

“All-day breakfast?”

Tom nodded.

“Not the ‘mini’, nor the vegetarian one. ‘Double’ is the way”

Frank laughed out loud.

“Me too. When I’m opening--- my job, you are in well before opening time, aye? Anyway, they do me a double, bring it round for me. Got three of their plates in there”

Gemma laughed out loud, a really happy sound, so much better than how we had found her.

“Kim’s place, they call their Full Welsh the ‘gutbuster’. I wouldn’t even start one, let alone finish it. Anyway, what sort of bread, what fillings? You want a cake as well, Tom?”

Frank did the honours with two half-baguettes, mine filled with a chicken escalope with melted cheese and crispy bacon, Tom’s, to no surprise on anyone’s part, a ‘full Welsh’ of sausage, bacon, omelette and, er, ketchup; I couldn’t work out how the hell he stayed so fit, given his diet, especially when he added a chunk of millionaire’s shortbread to his lardy feast.

The queue was getting longer again, so after pointing out that I was a Smugglers regular, we returned to the wagon and ate our supplies in the cab.

“Did you know she was working there, Jen?”

“Sort of. Lil gave the card, or rather gave it to Amina, who passed it to me. We saw Gemma in the Smugglers, giving some cakes to Marlene”

“Which were?”

“Swallow first. Right, in Marlene’s words a fruity tart flanked by two creamy horns”

“She got no shame?”

“I really don’t think so, butt”

“And, well, Amina?”

I sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to put my thoughts in some semblance of order, and Tom, bless him, simply waited for me to speak again.

“Yeah. Amina. Complications never end”

“Want to know my thoughts?”

“Can’t be as screwed up as mine. Go ahead”

“You two are well-suited, woman. I know what you’re thinking, and it’ll be about doing the dirty on Ange. Have you spoken to her family?”

“God, yes. They’d already worked out the Amina thing”

“What did they say?”

“In essence, well, to go for it”

“Then do that. The alternative is what Connie calls ‘the shudders’, and that’s not a good place to put yourself”

“Shudders?”

“Shudder done this, shudder done that. Missed opportunities. I think, from what you’ve said, that it’s something that Lil suffers from, a hell of a lot. Carpe diem, Jen, all that other stuff, and you’ve got support from both bloody sides, so who are you doing any dirty on?”

“What do you mean ‘both sides’, Tom?”

“Oh, Hira’s on your case, as in you plural, you and Amina”

“In what way?”

“Grilling me about you every time we collide, love. Amina’s done similar things, but mostly checking that you’re okay. She really cares for you, Jen”

“Was it easier for you and Connie, Tom?”

His mouth twisted.

“Eventually, but we had our moments. A massive, well, misunderstanding at school, but I sorted it; we sorted it”

He turned slightly in his seat so as to face me more directly, and took my hands.

“Look, Jen: I found my soulmate, which is a cheesy thing to say, but that is what Connie is. First and only love, aye? I never want to find out what losing each other would be like. You and Ange found each other, and nobody can make that loss better. It just is what it is. It’s… Oh, something I read years ago, one of those clever-clever things about loss and replacement, how it’s not replacement but addition; an older book doesn’t get thrown out just because you get a new one. So, my advice is simple, because I don’t want you getting the shudders. Go for it, love. You have nothing to lose, and I think you’ll gain big time”