The Victoria Vanishes(9)

‘Wait a minute, what about me?’ said May hotly. ‘You may have decided that it’s time to give up the ghost, but suppose I’m not ready to go yet? I’m younger than you—’

‘Only by three years.’

‘ – And I’m certainly not ready to retire. We’ve been a team for as far back as I can remember. How am I supposed to survive without you? We can’t just walk away from everything we’ve built, not now, not after all the battles we’ve fought.’

‘We’re not part of the Met any more, remember?’ Bryant rarely raised his voice, but was close to doing so now. ‘There’s no one fighting for us, John. We’re under the control of the Home Office, whether we like it or not. You’ve met that faceless little weasel Leslie Faraday. Worse, you’ve met his boss, the Phantom of Whitehall. They’ll wear us down eventually.’

‘So that’s it? You just give up and walk away? What do you think you’re going to do at home all day – thumb through your scrapbooks of past cases, stare vacantly out of the window jingling the change in your pockets? Or worse still, phone the office offering advice until nobody wants to take your calls any more? That’s what happens when people retire, you know. Their colleagues tell them to keep in touch but they don’t mean it. They’ll just think you’re too slow and out of the loop. They’ll be too busy proving themselves to bother with you. You’ll be nothing more than a nuisance to them. Ageism is the last real taboo.’

May knew he had to make his partner see the truth, even if it meant being cruel. ‘If you leave now, you know what we’ll have wasted? All those years spent showing that we could hold our own against overpaid young hotshots, the bean-counters brought in by government ministers eager to prove themselves. All our efforts to make Raymond understand why the unit needs to survive – ’ Wait a minute – Raymond. Why hadn’t the chief mentioned Bryant’s resignation to him? Could it be that he hadn’t had a chance to read the letter yet?

‘Come with me.’ Seizing Bryant by the arm, he dragged him back inside the crowded pub. Land was standing near the bar, talking to his wife. A thin band of white paper protruded from his top pocket. May could not tell from this distance if it had been opened. ‘You are going to get that letter back right now,’ he told his partner.

‘I most certainly am not.’ Bryant stood his ground. ‘And kindly take your arm off me. I am still quite capable of perambulating around a room, thank you.’

‘Then stay here while I get it and tear the damned thing up.’ May pushed his way through the clusters of officers until he found himself standing beside Raymond Land’s wife.

‘Well, hello stranger. Where have you been?’ Leanne’s eyes were half closed and her lipstick was smudged, but she was sending out signals to her favourite detective. For many years she had held not so much a torch for John May as a smugglers’ lantern, but his ship had never been tempted to ground upon her rocks.

‘Hello, Leanne. I’m afraid Arthur was a little overcome after his speech and needed some fresh air.’ He smiled while surreptitiously checking Land’s top pocket.

‘Ha, he’ll be hard pressed to find anything fresh round here.’ Leanne laughed, a tad commonly. ‘Tell me.’ She leaned in so closely that he could smell Tia Maria on her breath. ‘How do you manage to work with Mr Bryant without losing your temper? My husband wants to wring his neck most days.’

‘I never said that, Leanne,’ Land bristled.

‘Oh, Raymond and I have our ways of dealing with Arthur, don’t we?’ May smiled awkwardly as he casually placed his hand on Land’s shoulder. He tried moving it around to the envelope in his top pocket and would have succeeded, but Leanne suddenly pulled him to one side.

‘You know, John, I have a long-felt want that needs taking care of.’ She made it sound like a furniture-restoration project. ‘You awaken something in me that Raymond can’t handle. He’s too busy with his golf. I’ve no one to talk to. I live the life of a spinster.’ In moments of desperation, Leanne’s Morecambe accent surfaced. ‘Can’t we go out for a quiet drink one evening?’

‘You’re my boss’s wife,’ May reminded her, knowing that she never forgot. ‘It’s a matter of protocol.’

Staring over her shoulder, he realized he had drawn attention to the letter, which Land was now pulling from his pocket in curiosity.

‘Raymond, don’t read it,’ he begged.