Now, climbing into the car, she looked forward to the delicious luxury of being able to make coffee in her office and drink it while still hot, the novelty of not being interrupted by a cry. Compared to the demands of being at home, work felt like a doddle. After six months up to her ears in nappies she had probably developed cabin fever.
Lunchbox! She clambered out again, grabbed Tom’s lunchbox from the top of the car and put it on the passenger seat. Tom was strapped in, listening to his personal stereo, his head nodding to the music. She gave him the thumbs up, got in and started the car. When she pulled out into the main road the traffic was busy and slow.
She had dreaded and anticipated her return to work in equal measure. Being part-time would have been the ideal but it simply wasn’t an option if she wanted to progress in the force. And she did. She relished the challenges of leading major enquiries, of working with a team. That was the real heart of the job: the detecting, the hard task of uncovering the real story, getting to the truth behind the tragedy and ultimately finding justice for the dead and their loved ones.
It was a bright day, cool but not cold enough to be frosty, with a fresh breeze. The trees had shed almost all their leaves now; an odd one clung on here and there, flapping against the blue sky. A flock of pigeons wheeled overhead as Janine made slow progress through Didsbury village. The street was lined with shops, restaurants and estate agents, the road edged with parked cars. The property market was still booming and every spare speck of land was being developed into luxury apartments for young professionals.
Janine’s mobile rang and she pressed the hands-free answer button.
‘Janine?’
‘Richard?’
Her colleague, Detective Inspector Mayne to give him his full title. She gleaned a sense of urgency in his tone. She glanced in the rear-view mirror checking that Tom was still tuned in to his music, anxious he shouldn’t overhear anything that might be inappropriate.
‘Suspicious death,’ he said bluntly. ‘Body in the Mersey, Northenden. They’re pulling her out now.’
Janine swallowed, braced herself as she felt the spike of adrenalin kick in. ‘I’m on my way,’ she told him.
Outside the school, Tom pulled away from her to dash through the gates. Janine called him back, holding up his lunchbox. He turned and ran, his arms outstretched, plane-fashion. Grabbing the box, he wheeled away but not before Janine had a chance to plant a kiss on his head.
