Mourn not your Dead

uniform, then the face clicked into focus and she gasped. “Jackie? I can’t believe it! Is it really you?” After a moment’s laughing and hugging, she held her friend at arm’s length and studied her. “It is you. I’d swear you haven’t changed a bit.”
    She and Jackie Temple had been in the same class at the academy, and when they were both posted to Notting Hill a pleasant acquaintanceship had merged into real friendship. They had stayed close, even when Gemma transferred from uniform to CID, but since Gemma had been posted to the Yard they’d seen each other very rarely. Now she realized with a shock that she hadn’t spoken to Jackie since Toby’s conception.
    “Neither have you, Gemma,” Jackie said, a smile lighting her dark face. “And now that we know we’re both godawful liars, what are you doing here? And how long has it been? How’s Rob?” Gemma’s expression must have betrayed her, because Jackie said immediately, “Oh, no, I’ve put my foot in, haven’t I?” She lifted Gemma’s left hand and shook her head when she saw her bare finger. “I’m so sorry, love. Whatever happened?”
    “You couldn’t have known,” Gemma reassured her. “And it’s been more than four years now.” Rob had found the demands of family life a bit more than he’d bargained for and hadn’t proved much better as an absentee father. The child-support checks, regular at first, became sporadic, then stopped altogether when Rob left his job and changed his address.
    “Look,” said Jackie as the door swung open again and narrowly missed them, “we can’t stand about on the bleedin’ steps all day. I’m just off duty, but I ran some paper work over from Notting Hill as a favor to my sarge. Now I’m off home. Come with me and we’ll have something to drink and a good old natter.”
    Gemma had a moment’s guilt, quickly buried as she told herself that she had, after all, followed Kincaid’s instructions to the letter. And she could always quiz Jackie about Alastair Gilbert. Smiling, she said, “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”
     
    JACKIE STILL LIVED IN THE SMALL BLOCK OF FLATS GEMMA remembered, near Notting Hill Police Station. It was a bit of an ugly duckling in an area of terraced Georgian houses, but Jackie’s second-floor flat was pleasant enough. Wide windows opened onto a south-facing balcony, a profusion of green plants grew among the clutter of African prints, and bright-patterned throws covered the casual furniture.
    “Do you still share with Susan May?” Gemma called from the sitting room as Jackie disappeared into the bedroom, shedding her uniform sweater as she went.
    “We rub along all right. She’s had another promotion— fancies herself a bit these days,” Jackie said affectionately as she reappeared in jeans, pulling a sweatshirt over her tight curls. “I’m starved,” she added, heading for the tiny galley kitchen. “Hang on a bit and I’ll put something together for us.”
    When Jackie refused her offer to help, Gemma wandered out on the balcony, admiring the snapdragons and pansies that bloomed cheerfully in terra-cotta pots. She remembered that Susan, a willowy woman who worked as a production assistant for the BBC, was the one with the green thumb. When the three of them had gathered together for makeshift suppers in the flat, Susan had teased Jackie about her ability to kill anything by just looking at it.
    This had been her patch, Gemma thought as she leaned over the railing and gazed out at the broad tree-lined streets—not all of it as elegant and pleasant as this, of course—but it had been a good place to start life as a copper, and she had grown fond of it. Once she’d walked a beat that stretched from the crayon-box of Elgin Crescent to the bustle of Kensington Park Road. It felt odd to be back, as if time had telescoped in on itself.
    When she returned to the sitting room, Jackie had set out plates of sandwiches, fruit, and two bottles of beer. As they pulled their chairs nearer the window so they could sit in the last of the sun while they ate, Jackie echoed Gemma’s thoughts. “A bit like old times, isn’t it? Now tell me about you,” she added as she bit into an apple with a resounding crunch.
    By the time Gemma had brought her up to date and Jackie had promised to visit Toby soon, they’d mopped up the crumbs. “Jackie,” Gemma said tentatively, “look, I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch. When I was pregnant with Toby it