Mending Bones: Leicester trilogy, #3

Catching a break

Claire hadn’t realised exactly when, in her life, Monday mornings had become one of her favourite times of the week. Only today, when she wakes up, she’s so relieved to be going back to work that she almost smiles as she turns off the alarm blaring on her phone. The weekend has been a slow one. No meeting with friends – all busy – and no planned RPG session. She tried to make some progress on the next bit of the scenario, but that only served to take her mind off work for a few hours.

So she gets in early, as isn’t unusual, says hi to everyone she meets on her way to the third floor of the police station where her office is. It’s empty when she opens the door, and she appreciates the few minutes of quiet she’ll get to start working, before her colleague arrives. Andy slides into the room at about ten past nine, dishevelled and looking like she woke up just five minutes ago. Claire pins a knowing look on her and the other woman waves a frustrated hand at her:

I know I know, I’m late.

I didn’t say anything, Claire smiles.

Yeah I know, you’re too perfect to make me feel bad about my short-comings, Andy teases as she throws her jacket off and sits at her desk, facing Claire who has already had one cup of coffee and done a fair bit of work by now.

Oh come on, Claire rolls her eyes, I have flaws too.

Sure, Andy laughs, the ‘r’ rolling under her Scottish accent. Name one.

Claire sneers at her and stays silent. She has a perfectly crafted list in mind, but she isn’t in the mood for arguing this morning. They have been working on the case of a missing boy for a few days, and she’s had to busy her mind with absolutely anything during the whole weekend to avoid sneaking her way back into the station and keep at it. She’s probably blowing the thing out of proportion – the kid had threatened his parents with running away after all, so that was likely what he’d done. It’s only a matter of time until he posts something on social media that betrays his location, and because he’s a minor, he will gently be escorted back to his parents.

But Claire’s been like this for years. Focused on the job, never satisfied until it’s done properly, every little bit of paperwork sorted and put away. Stu used to tease her about it, when they were still in school and comparing grades on the bus ride back to the quiet street of brick houses that saw them grow up. That she’d never handed in a paper late, or missed an exam. Decades later, she hasn’t changed much. She just isn’t a bad girl. The most rebellious thing she’s done in her life has to be having one night stands, and smoking a bit of pot.

The atmosphere in the office grows stifling as the day goes on, and by the time night falls, the air feels so heavy it’s hard to breathe. Not to mention the rampant tension that permeates the walls as everyone on their floor racks their brain to find the missing boy. Claire groans on an exhale.

It isn’t like her to get so upset about a case, but this one has been living in a corner of her brain for a week now, and she’s desperate for a clue, something, anything to move it forward. They have a family waiting for answers and not a single hint as to where their son has gone.

She barely notices when a scraping sound announces that Andy is getting up.

You planning to wrap up anytime soon? Andy asks.

Claire looks up to find her colleague already wearing her jacket, pocketing her things from her desk. She blinks and checks the time in the corner of her computer screen. Almost seven.

Um. Well, I wanted to finish crossing the call records with the locations we’ve gotten from his phone…

Andy shrugs, sending her long ginger hair flying around her.

For once it’s not me having trouble switching off, she teases Claire, laying a hand on her shoulder as she circles their desks to move towards the exit.

Yeah yeah, Claire mumbles, already lost in the case again, and she barely hears the door shut behind Andy.

Claire has been in the police for twenty-two years. And a Detective Inspector for ten. You would think that after so much time on the job she’d have relaxed a bit, handed chunks of the work on to subordinates who still had something to prove, and enjoy her evenings to do whatever else people did when they weren’t passionate about their jobs.

Not her. Andy can mock her all she wants, there is a reason they work so well as a team: both stubborn, dedicated and hyper focused. Only Andy is the brash one, shouting at the slightest inconvenience, the type to accidentally surprise a person of interest out of the shower – and marry them barely two years later.

They balance each other, in a way. When Andy goes too fast and forgets about the hindrance of bureaucracy, Claire is there so slow her down. And when Claire needs to let go of the pent up tension inside her that she barely ever notices, Andy is there to take her out dancing, get drunk and live a little.

Claire… Claire does her job, and well, but in the shadows. She doesn’t care for validation or exposure, all she wants is to get it done, if possible without creating more problems for them to solve later.

It might have something to do with growing up a black girl in a comfortable suburb where her family was the only non-white one. It might have been that she was the only black, female cop when she joined in Leicester. Things have changed a bit since then, but still.

Or it might simply be that when people look at her, really look at her, Claire wants to shrivel and disappear. So she’s better off giving her all to the job and existing through reports and presentations, being her diplomatic self and never putting the real Claire Atkins out there for people to see.

You never know what might happen then.

I’m sorry, Miss Atkins.

Claire sighs on the examination table. The throbbing pain in her right shin was enough of a clue that she isn’t surprised by the doctor’s gloomy tone and facial expression.

It’s broken, isn’t it?

I’m afraid so.

The lady moves past the table and holds out Claire’s X-ray, pointing at a black space that shouldn’t be here, just above her ankle.

Your tibia ruptured quite cleanly, at least. No splinters that we can see. It should heal properly, given time.

Will I need a cast?

Yes, we’ll have you fitted for one as soon as possible. I do want to talk to you about how you broke it, if that’s all right, Dr Zaman says, coming back to sit in her chair.

Claire doesn’t like the worried frown that creases her forehead.

What do you want to know?

You said when you came in that you fell down the stairs at home, is that right?

Claire remembers the scene well enough.

Coming home late, unable to switch off from the case and lost deep in her thoughts and what little information her team had managed to gather on that day.

She still can’t believe her vigilance was so low that she would trip over her own feet that way, and yes, take a pretty tumble and barely avoid hitting her head on the wall doing so. She hadn’t heard the bone snap, but she felt the pain well enough, as soon as she recovered from the shock.

Sadly, yes.

And had you been eating properly, recently? Enough calcium?

I guess I don’t pay extra attention… why? Claire frowns.

Well, I’m slightly worried about you breaking a bone only from falling down. You don’t have a history of previous fractures, but you’re reaching an age where osteoporosis can start being an issue.

Claire feels the blood drain from her face at the word.

Do you think…

We can’t see any sign of that on the X-ray, Dr Zaman shakes her head, however, I’d like to recommend you for a blood test, and a bone density scan once your leg has healed. We’ll check for any deficiencies, just to be on the safe side.

She leaves Claire alone after having handed her a prescription for the test and a sick note.

Well, fuck.

Claire has never been on sick leave in her life.

She isn’t even sure how to go about declaring it at work, which… What the bloody hell is she supposed to do for six weeks now?

It takes her a few days to get everything in order. Her blood test comes back a little low on calcium and iron, so she takes a gruelling trip to the pharmacy to grab all the pills she will need to gobble for a good month. The first day, the pain and the worry about recovery at least manage to keep her mind off work.

Andy comes round a day after, bearing bags of groceries and – which wasn’t on Claire’s list – a pack of beer. She takes one look at Claire before her eyes fall to her leg and she whistles.

Shit, mate.

It doesn’t help that the stark white of the cast is such a shocking contrast to her skin tone, making it impossible to miss. Dr Zaman had grimaced when Claire asked when anything would be made with black folks in mind, and hadn’t known what to answer.

Yeah. I get hurt once a century but I do it right.

Andy shakes her head and comes in, kicking the door closed behind herself. Claire leans forward, perched on one leg like a flamingo, but Andy steps away just as fast.

Nope. Get your arse on the sofa and crack open the beers, I know where your fridge is.

Okay, bossy much? Claire grumbles while making her way back into the living room.

You love me! comes the answer from the kitchen and Claire huffs out a laugh as she falls back onto the sofa.

She does, but Andy is such a tosser that she won’t say it. A few minutes later, they’re both enjoying a cold beer while listening to the faint sounds of the city coming from the open window. Summer is slowly giving way to autumn but the evenings are still warm, and there is nothing that Claire would love more than having her beer at a terrace right now.

She asks about the station, the case, and Andy shuts her down quickly enough with a pointed glare.

"You’re on sick leave to rest, not to ask me about work. Which is boring, so don’t even worry about it."

Her colleague has been fiddling with the gold ring on her left hand since she arrived, and Claire cannot help but smile and ask:

You are loving this, aren’t you?

Andy raises her eyebrows, not realising that she hasn’t stopped spinning her wedding ring. Claire points her chin to her friend’s hands and Andy lowers her head, hiding a blush and a smile.

I mean… you were at the wedding, you don’t need to ask.

I know. I’d make fun of you, but it’s actually sweet.

Shut up.

It’s good, to see her so happy. Claire isn’t one of those who get jealous of others’ joy easily.

Is everyone at the station teasing you about it yet?

Andy squints at her. No, you’re not sneaking your way into a conversation about work.

Claire slumps back in a groan.

I’m gonna go mad, Andy. I’ve been working on that case for a week, how am I supposed to just switch it off?

"First of all, we have been working on that case, second… Andy sighs and chews on her lip for a second before she admits: … would it help relax that big brain of yours if I tell you the boy’s been spotted alive and well somewhere in Leeds?"

Claire lets out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

Thank god.

Yeah, thank whoever, Andy agrees. "Just a matter of time now ‘til this whole business gets sorted. Now stop worrying your pretty head."

This is torture, Claire moans. A month of nothing but physio and waiting!

"You know rest is recommended to recover from injuries."

Claire glares at her friend. I’d like to see you try.

Pass.

Andy looks far too smug for Claire to let it go.

That’s cause you know you’d be just as awful as me at sitting down.

Good thing I’m not the one who has to keep my leg elevated then, right?

Claire lets her injured ankle fall onto the coffee table, just for the sake of making Andy wince at the noise.

You forgot that would hurt, Andy states plainly, and Claire gives up in a nod, gritting her teeth.

Hmmm.

God help me, where are your painkillers?

By the sink.

Thirty seconds later Andy is back, handing her a glass of water and a pill.

Cheers, Claire says, and pops a painkiller while wondering if she really should be having that beer right now.

Okay, Andy says, clapping her palms on her thighs. So, let’s brainstorm how to get you busy so you don’t break your other leg out of boredom. You can still have your DnD sessions, right?

Claire rolls her eyes up at the ceiling. "For the millionth time, we play a table top RPG that is not DnD but yes, I do still run the sessions. Although four hours every other weekend is not going to give me much to do."

Andy goes to her preferred position, elbows planted on her thighs, and bites her lip, humming pensively.

Shame your sister lives away.

Gosh, tell me about it. She would have loved for me to babysit.

So, what then? Should I bring you some DVDs? her colleague smirks.

I don’t even own a DVD player, Andy. I could always stream stuff but…

The thought of sitting still for hours on end makes her shiver in genuine dread.

Yeah… Andy agrees to her silent disgust. The first thing I thought of to keep busy during a month off work was going for a run.

Claire scoffs and waves towards her cast.

I know, I know, Andy tuts. I’m just saying… I imagine your pain. I wish I could help you a bit more.

Claire sighs, the bubbling anger rising inside her quickly dying down.

It’s not your fault. I mean, it’s nobody’s fault… Just rotten luck.

Hmm. Well. I’ll pay you a visit when I can, yeah? I’ll try to be entertaining.

Claire smiles and turns to better see her friend.

What, have you picked up juggling?

Andy raises her eyebrows and nods