A Raucous Time by Julia Hughes
Chapter Twenty-Six
Opening his eyes to see PC Rodgers’s moon like face inches from his own, Rhyllann sat up abruptly. He ached all over and still wanted a good hot shower, but felt less disorientated; happier. Until Rodgers slapped handcuffs around his wrists again and started talking. Apparently he, Rhyllann Jones, had ruined a beautiful set up. With armed police in position Crombie had called the raid off with minutes to go, fearing the gang inside Folly’s House held the boys hostage.
Rodgers, delighted not to be the scapegoat for once, gave a blow by blow account while Rhyllann searched desperately for his trainers.
Superintendent Bates of Bodmin accused Crombie of stealing his thunder. “The Guv” insisted on raising the house to enter into lengthy negotiations before allowing the occupants inside to surrender one at a time. The Cornish Police were robbed of the chance to show 'them Londoners’ they weren’t all cider swilling plods. The Met had been humiliated in front of the locals. Over the long drawn out process, Stern and four gang members had managed to escape.
‘'Course.’ Rodgers told him spitefully. ‘We reckon someone tipped the bast …them off. We never blamed the Guv for one instant.’ Rhyllann bet they had. ‘But old Batesie – threw his toys out the pram.’
Rhyllann couldn’t listen to anymore. His socks and trainers were nowhere to be found; barging Rodgers out of his path, he stalked barefooted down a dim corridor, banging through the swing doors at the end. He had another déjà vu moment, the large office he found himself in resembled the hospital, packed with oddly clothed bodies and clamouring voices. The room quietened slowly, heads turned to swivel in his direction all bearing the same look of distaste. Squaring his shoulders, Rhyllann marched forward as though he knew where he was going, only to find his way bared by a stocky uniformed man with thinning grey hair.
‘Well well well, if it isn’t sleeping ugly.’ He jeered curling his lip, and displaying a row of tombstone teeth.
Two or three other policemen rose to their feet, a couple more ambled across the room to form a hostile circle around Rhyllann. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Rodgers approaching, and knew he couldn’t expect any help from him.
‘Excuse me please.’ Rhyllann said taking a step forward.
The man reached out under the pretence of placing a hand on Rhyllann's shoulder, squeezing painfully.
‘Excuse you? Excuse you? Why what have you done?’
He pushed hard, sending Rhyllann lurching backwards against someone who promptly scraped a booted foot against his exposed ankle. He felt hands shoving him forward and resigned himself to being humiliated.
‘Superintendent Bates. Thank you. I’ll take it from here.’
Crombie’s voice and Crombie’s hand reaching over heads to grab Rhyllann and pull him from the throng. The two men squared up to each other, then Bates showed the tombstone teeth again, startling Rhyllann by clapping his hands and shouting.
‘Right. You heard the man! Everyone relax – Detective Inspector Crombie of the Metropolitan Police is here to take care of everything!’
Hoots of derisive laughter followed and one or two rude hand gestures. Crombie stared them down and the menace dispersed with muttered curses and dirty looks. Rhyllann flinched as a hand clamped his shoulder, but Crombie merely muttered.
‘Wait here son, I wanna word with Superintendent Bates.’ With that he strode after Bates into his office. Raised voices could be heard but Rhyllann pretended not to listen. Crombie returned carrying a pair of manky looking trainers. Shoving them towards Rhyllann he said.
‘Right. All squared. Let’s go visit your cousin.’
Pulling the trainers onto his feet Rhyllann hopped after him anxious not to be left behind.
A vague memory of splashing through a main street to a hospital returned. Although gutters ran from water being swirled from shops offices and houses, and the streets were still wet, normality seemed to be returning. Rhyllann hurried to catch up with Crombie, the oversized trainers and handcuffs making his movements awkward, wondering if perhaps he had been transferred to a different town while he slept.
‘Detective Crombie Sir, where are we?’
Crombie looked at him with suspicion.
‘You being funny son? Cornwall.’ Then he seemed to relent. ‘Sorry son, I forgot. You’ve been through the mill a bit. We’re in Bodmin, Cornwall.’ Seeing Rhyllann still looked confused he added. ‘You’ve been out of it for almost forty-eight hours. The floods happened on Wednesday. Today’s Friday.’ They had reached the hospital by now. Rhyllann let this information sink in. God, no wonder he needed to pee so badly. Crombie continued talking, ticking points off on his fingers.
‘They’ve managed to clear the main towns, but there’s still no electric, no phones, all the mobile signals are down – no internet of course. Some villagers are still camped out in the town hall and the local school. The local emergency services have been stretched. Tempers have run a bit high.’ Rhyllann guessed that this was a back handed apology for Bates and nodded. Crombie seemed almost friendly towards Rhyllann. Maybe Bates had done him a favour. Crombie had come to his rescue and in doing so had tucked Rhyllann firmly under his wing. For the time being at least