‘I know,’ Sue murmured tearfully, making an effort to pull herself together. ‘And I’ll just have to wait until she’s ready to talk to me. But the support workers at the hostel have been great, so I’m glad she’s got them to talk to in the meantime.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ Jay said confidently. Then, ‘And how’s Connor doing?’
‘He’s just confused,’ Sue told her, sighing softly. ‘He hasn’t got a clue what’s going on, but he’s made up to have Nicky back. Oh, and he’s nearly stopped wetting the bed.’
‘Well, that’s good,’ Jay said, smiling again. ‘Shows he’s not as stressed out as he was.’
‘Suppose so,’ Sue agreed, smiling herself now. ‘I’ll just be glad when this is all over and we can really move on.’
‘Yes, well, it shouldn’t be too long now,’ Jay said. ‘We haven’t got a confirmed date for the trial yet, but I’ll let you know as soon as we hear anything. And don’t worry: Dave Miller’s got
no
chance of walking away from this.’
Murmuring, ‘I hope not,’ Sue wiped her nose one last time and stuffed the tissue into her pocket.
‘Anyway, best get going,’ Jay said, glancing at her watch. ‘You’ve got my number, so feel free to call me if you need to talk.’
‘Thanks,’ Sue said quietly. Then, leaning down on impulse, she gave Jay a quick hug and walked briskly away. Casting one last glance towards the car park where Terry was still adamantly fending Leanne off, she joined Pauline at the gate.
‘You didn’t have to wait,’ she said, hoping that Pauline wouldn’t start quizzing her.
But Pauline had already decided not to stick her nose in, sensing that whatever Sue and DC Osborne had been talking about it must have been personal for the uniformed one to leave them to chat in private.
So, instead, she linked her arm through Sue’s, saying, ‘That’s what friends are for. You come together, you leave together. Well, except when it’s time to get on
Jack
’s bus,’ she added, jerking her head back at the graves as they set off down the road. ‘That’s one journey we all make alone. Least, I bloody
hope
so, or my John will be hopping on board asking how he’s supposed to cook his own tea.’
‘Won’t he be more concerned about how to work the telly?’ Sue asked, wondering why she’d spent so long at war with this kind, caring, dry-witted old lady.
‘Oh, no, pet, he doesn’t need me to show him how to work
that
,’ Pauline chuckled. ‘It’s just the cooker he’s got a problem with. And the hoover . . . and the kettle . . . and the washing machine . . .’