‘Don’t forget the rehearsal, Jane.’
‘No time to chat, byeeeee,’ Jane called, and shut the front door behind her.
Pam, who was still in her pyjamas, shook her head in annoyance as she approached the breakfast bar.
‘Don’t let that coffee and toast go to waste – your sister had to leave it.’ Mrs Tennison took the half-eaten piece for herself while Pam picked up the other slice and took a bite.
‘Did you make sure she’ll be at the church, Mum?’
‘She said she’d do her best to get there on time, but her lecture finishes—’
‘Honestly, Mum, Jane should have sorted it weeks ago like my other bridesmaids did.’
‘She’ll be there, Pam.’
‘She’d better be, Mum. Have you seen her in her bridesmaid’s dress?’
‘I know you’re anxious, dear, but she’s up and down to Hackney every day so I never know whether she’s coming or going or even what shift she’s on next. I hardly get a word out of her because she’s always so tired. You know sometimes I wish she’d never joined the Met, especially when she’s on nights. I worry myself sick. She said she’d been at the mortuary and that’s why the smell on her uniform was horrible. God only knows what was sticking to her shoes. I don’t know, I do worry about her.’
‘She can take care of herself, Mum, she always has.’
‘I know, I know.’
‘Jane can be so selfish at times, though, and she must know how important my big day is to me!’
‘She knows. Now, do you want me to make you some scrambled eggs on toast?’
‘Yeah, I’ll go and have a shower first.’
Mrs Tennison fetched a bowl, broke the eggs and was giving them a good whisking when her bleary-eyed husband shuffled in.
‘Been like Piccadilly Circus this morning. Went to go to the bathroom and Jane was in there, now Pam’s having a shower,’ he said and perched himself on a stool.
‘Did you clean her shoes?’ he asked.
‘Yes, shocking smell, and her jacket stank of disinfectant. She told me she’d been to a mortuary and they swilled the floor with something.’
Although the Tennisons’ large flat in Maida Vale had three good-sized bedrooms, an open-plan lounge, dining room and kitchen, complete with breakfast bar along one wall, it only had one bathroom, and with three women living there Mr Tennison was always last in line.
‘You have to have a quiet talk with Jane. I know she’s never wanted to be a bridesmaid, but this Sunday is Pam’s big day and I won’t have Jane spoiling it with a sour face,’ Mrs Tennison said bluntly as she broke two more eggs into the bowl for her husband’s breakfast. She was a very pretty woman, even in her satin quilted dressing gown, furry slippers and hair in small pink rollers.
‘She won’t let her sister down,’ Mr Tennison said.
‘She tried to get out of being a bridesmaid when it was first discussed. As the elder sister Jane has a duty to be chief bridesmaid.’
‘Well, Jane’s work must be very stressful and—’
‘I want everything to be organized to the last detail so the wedding day will run smoothly. She could have waited a few months more, but she’s always been headstrong.’
‘You can say that again, dear. I know you were upset when she signed up to the Met without telling us, but I’m proud of her, and if it’s the career she wants then she should—’
‘Not Jane, I was talking about Pam. And as for a career, well, it sounds to me she’s mostly making tea and coffee.’
‘Well, the hair salon isn’t what I’d call a classy joint, just local and temporary, I suspect.’
‘I was talking about Jane’s job, and besides, Pam is a fully qualified colourist now so she isn’t making clients tea and coffee.’ Mrs Tennison finished whisking the eggs and poured them into a cooking pan.
Mr Tennison sighed. ‘Either way as long as they’re happy, but to be honest I do worry about Jane patrolling the streets in a rough area like Hackney. Maybe after she’s finished her probation she’ll move into something else like the mounted branch. She used to like riding when she was younger – or maybe the traffic police.’
Mrs Tennison smiled. ‘The thought of her directing traffic makes me laugh, especially as she failed her driving test twice before finally passing it.’
She was already placing two plates of scrambled eggs on the Formica-topped bar, and inserting the bread into the toaster.
‘Are you having eggs?’ he asked, sitting on one of the stools.
‘No, darling, I’m watching my weight for the wedding. I’m going to John Lewis this afternoon to collect my outfit.’
‘You will look ravishing.’
She gave him a playful slap on his shoulder and then leaned in close.
‘You will too in your Moss Bros top hat and tails . . .’
‘Am I in a top hat and tails?’
‘You know you are, so don’t start to tease me.’
He sighed and said that it was going to cost him a fortune, but she had already gone down the corridor to call Pam for breakfast.
*
Jane arrived at the training centre above the large post office in Holloway Road, Islington, just as her classmates were being ushered into the classroom, meaning she didn’t have time to get herself anything from the canteen. The room was basic and cold, with twenty desks made of wood and metal, laid out in five rows of four. In the centre of the classroom was a Kodak carousel slide projector facing a white screen behind which was a large blackboard.
The sergeant standing at the door pointed to a desk that had a stack of identical files with ‘Dr J. Harker. Lecture Files. Confidential’ stamped on them.
‘Stop chattering, take a file and sit where you want. Fill out the name card on your desk and then stand by it ready for inspection,’ he said in a monotone.
There were twenty probationary officers present, all in their early twenties, and only Jane and one other were WPCs. As the sergeant inspected them he told some of the male officers that they needed haircuts, hadn’t shaved properly, or their uniform trousers didn’t have neatly pressed creases. He told the other female officer present to remove her hooped earrings, and she apologized saying she had meant to do so before class but had forgotten. The sergeant gruffly remarked that if a violent prisoner grabbed them she’d never forget her ear lobes being ripped off.
Jane felt good when he commented to the rest of the class that he expected to see all their uniforms in the same neat and well-pressed condition as hers. She knew it was all thanks to her mother and realized she’d have to get some tips from her if she was going to move into the section house. Looking after her uniform, washing and ironing her clothes would then become her own responsibility.
‘Sit your backsides down,’ the sergeant shouted out. The room was filled with the sound of scraping chairs
and whispered conversation as they all sat down.
Jane found herself at the front. She looked round the classroom and saw a couple of people she knew from training school. She raised her hand slightly and gave them a wave, which they returned.
The sergeant suddenly shouted out, ‘Class!’ and everyone