Hush Hush. Mel Sherratt

       March 2017

       George Steele came out of The Potter’s, leaving the noise of the rowdy party still going on behind him. Outside, it was fresh, the hint of warmer weather around the corner.

       It was nearing midnight as he began to walk home. He had planned on only having one more for the road, but that was two hours ago, and now he was struggling to stand up.

       He wondered if Kathleen had left him anything to eat. He could murder something hot inside him. If she hadn’t, he would wake her. She could cook him something. He salivated at the thought of a bacon butty.

       It was a short walk down a country lane and along a small path. Sober, it took him half as long as it did when he was legless. He snorted to himself as he stumbled to his right. It would take him all night, zigzagging the road as he was.

       His phone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket. He brought it near to his face, trying to see who was calling him, but he couldn’t read the screen, so he let it ring out. At this time of night, it would only be someone looking to cause trouble. He was sick and tired of people after a piece of him. Always wanting to fight with him, anger him, disrespect him. He couldn’t even rely on his useless sons to sort anything out. They just weren’t up to his standard when it came to what he expected of his family. And as for his silly daughter … He didn’t have the words for how pathetic she was.

       He was at the path now, minutes from home. The house stood on four acres of land, the room he’d had so much fun with hidden away at the bottom of the garden. It had been passed down to him by his parents, the only thing they’d given him he’d ever been glad of. How he had hated his father and the time spent with him there, at the hands of a monster. Still, at least it meant he’d known how to get the best out of his own family too.

       George didn’t hear a sound as someone crept up behind him. A crack to the head made him stumble forward. Another and he dropped to his knees. He turned around and was greeted with a whack in the face. Unable to see who it was in the dark, he tried to crawl away on all fours, but a kick to the stomach had him coughing. He held up a hand – each hit was followed by a pause.

       ‘Wait!’ he cried, catching his breath, sitting up on his haunches. ‘Whoever has sent you to do this, I’ll double your money.’ He winced in agony as pain pulsed through his body. ‘Because when I find out, be prepared to get a lot worse than you’re giving me now.’

       A hit to the side of his face and colours exploded inside his head. He dropped to the floor again.

       It took a few more blows before he realised his attacker wasn’t going to stop.

       ONE

       August 2018

      Grace Allendale climbed the restaurant stairs to the first floor and slipped back to her seat at the table.

      ‘We’ve just placed our order,’ DC Sam Markham said, beaming at her. ‘Won’t be long now.’

      Grace smiled back. It was Friday evening and everyone in Spice World was in high spirits. The clientele were letting off steam, catching up with friends and family. Grace would rather have ordered a takeaway and eaten alone at home, but needs must.

      The restaurant was situated in the lower part of Hanley, around the corner from Bethesda Police Station, Grace’s new headquarters. From the outside the Victorian building looked weather-worn and, as they’d walked inside the curry house, she’d wondered what she was letting herself in for.

      But it had been a pleasant surprise to find a warm and modern atmosphere. There were tables full of diners spread out over the ground floor, and a grand staircase leading upstairs to many more. The music playing in the background was modern rock, not too intrusive, yet loud enough to be heard over the friendly banter of people out enjoying themselves.

      This was the first time Grace had met her work colleagues since she’d got her new job as detective sergeant, a promotion from her former role in Salford. Grace had lived there for the past twenty-three years. She’d joined the police force after leaving university and had worked as a police constable before transferring to Major Crimes as a detective. She’d been quite settled in that role for several years, but when things took a tumble in her private life, she’d decided that she needed a new goal to aim for.

      Having taken her detective sergeant’s exam last year, when a post had come up in her birthplace of Stoke-on-Trent, she decided to put in for it. She needed a change, somewhere she could start afresh, even though she wasn’t quite sure it was a good decision to come back to the town from which she and her mum had fled all those years ago. But circumstances were different now. The man who had caused them so much pain was no longer around.

      After she’d been offered the job, Grace had got an invite to join the team for a night out before her start date on Monday. There was only one officer who hadn’t been able to make it, someone called Alex Challinor, who had a previous engagement he couldn’t get out of, although no one had enlightened her as to what it was.

      Around her, her new colleagues were sharing some in-joke. Then suddenly Nick Carter, their DI, stopped laughing and turned to her.

      ‘Sorry, we’re ignoring you. You say you lived in Stoke when you were younger, Grace?’ he asked.

      All eyes fell