‘Hmmp.’ He waved at his bifocals. ‘Pass me those, would you?’ He unfolded the letter. ‘Aha. Hmph.’
‘I assume you are making those cartoonish noises to attract my attention,’ said May wearily.
Bryant tossed the letter at him. ‘How about this one? We’ll give her an interview, shall we?’
May read for a moment, then raised his eyes. ‘This is a formal application to join the unit from April, my granddaughter.’
‘And you thought there wasn’t anyone in your family willing to carry on the tradition.’ Bryant smirked. ‘Shows how much you know about people.’
‘Wait, did you put her up to this?’ asked May.
Bryant’s eyes widened with indignant surprise.
‘No, of course you didn’t. You couldn’t have, because when I told you last week that the Chief Association of Police Officers was inviting non-professionals to train alongside detectives, you acted as though you didn’t know anything about it.’
‘Oh, well then, I don’t. You ought to see her, though.’ He licked his lips. ‘Blimey, I’m starving. It must be nearly time for them to bring the mince trolley round. You’d better be off before it arrives.’
As May slipped the note back in its envelope, he couldn’t keep himself from grinning. ‘Perhaps I should get Longbright to fix up an appointment.’
‘I think you’ll find she already has. Next Tuesday at eleven.’
He was going to ask how Bryant could possibly know, but his partner was already starting to feign sleep.
‘You missed your vocation, Arthur,’ he said softly. ‘You really should have been on the stage.’
‘The city is my theatre,’ murmured Bryant. ‘I never want to leave it.’ He closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into vast white pillows. ‘The war.’ His voice became a faint whisper. ‘How little we knew about people then. How little we ever really learn.’
Above the foot of the bed, the silent television replayed footage of guns and men, and a distant battle that could never be won.