Jane slept until after 9 a.m. The first decent sleep she’d had for weeks. She felt refreshed and no longer anxious about having been told by Bradfield to go home and take a few days off work. She helped her mother prepare the lunch and found doing the ordinary small things, like laying the table and putting out the wine glasses, made her glad she was at home. By the time Pam and her husband arrived it was almost twelve. Jane was truly pleased to see her sister and hear all about the honeymoon in the Lake District, laughing as she spoke about the dreadful weather and how the MGB car had broken down and had to be towed back to London. Jane could see that her sister was blissfully happy, and Tony hardly got a word in edgeways as Pam began detailing all the gifts they had received.
Mr Tennison was in the open-plan room watching television and reading the newspaper. Mrs Tennison put the leg of lamb on the dining table and asked her husband to carve the meat. He turned the sound down on the TV and joined them at the table. Whilst he cut some slices from the lamb joint his wife fussed around putting vegetables and roast potatoes on everyone’s plates and telling them to help themselves to gravy.
Jane complimented her mum on her cooking. When everyone had finished Jane and Pam helped to clear the table and washed the dirty plates and cutlery while their mother made the hot custard to go with the lovely apple turnover. Jane and Pam took the bowls of dessert to the table, then Jane fetched the jug of hot custard. Her father was uncorking another bottle of wine when he pointed at the silent TV.
‘My God, the IRA must have exploded another car bomb in the City,’ he exclaimed, then went over and turned up the volume to hear what the newscaster was saying:
As you can see from the carnage around me here in Great Eastern Street a large explosion occurred in the early hours of this morning. A number of people were injured during the blast, some we believe fatally. At present the police have not released any names or further details about the incident.
Jane was about to pour custard on her father’s dessert. She looked at the screen and saw the ambulances and police cars and a fire engine still dousing down what was left of the Trustee Savings Bank. The instantaneous shock, and the thought of possible fatalities, caused her to drop the jug of custard. It broke into pieces as it crashed against the dessert bowl, causing hot custard to splash onto the table, the floor and Jane’s T-shirt and jeans.
She gasped, staring back at the TV screen.
The reporter continued:
It is not yet clear what caused the massive explosion, and the IRA has not as yet claimed responsibility. There were no coded warnings sent to any news agencies as was the case with the car bombs in March this year outside the Old Bailey and the Army recruitment office in Whitehall, where one person was killed and two hundred and fifteen people injured.
Jane grabbed her father’s arm.
‘Daddy, please… I need your car keys… please! I have to go the station! Don’t try and stop me, just let me have your car keys.’
She wasn’t aware that she was screaming and pulling at his arm. ‘Gimme the keys, for Chrissake!’
Her father was taken aback by her outburst and went to the kitchen area where he got the car keys from a drawer. He didn’t try and stop her when she snatched them from his hand.
‘I’m sorry, I have to go… I am so sorry,’ she said as she hurriedly left the room.
They all heard the front door slam and Mrs Tennison looked confused and frightened as she turned to her husband.
‘She’s only just passed her driving test! Go after her and stop her!’
He went to follow but slipped on the spilt custard, knocking over a dining-table chair.
Jane hurried down the stairs and out of the flats. She ran down the path and turned to look up and down the small backstreet where her father usually parked his car. Seeing it midway down the road she ran towards it, fumbling for the right key to unlock the driver’s door. She got into the car and was gasping for breath as she started the engine. The gears crunched as she pulled out and drove to the end of the road, turning into Edgware Road and then straight through a set of red lights into Marylebone Road.
Jane realized she’d forgotten her handbag and therefore didn’t have her warrant card with her to prove she was a police officer if she was stopped for dangerous driving. She forced herself to slow down and drive more carefully, and thankfully it being a bank holiday the roads were very quiet. She breathed heavily and told herself to try to remain calm. The news report about an IRA car bomb made no sense. It seemed to her that something had gone terribly wrong with Operation Hawk.
