Bernie wasn't sure how to feel. At a loss? Relief? Hope? Dread? Joy?
Last night was the last night she'd be spending in the comfortable microcosm of Rockfield. In the six weeks she'd been there, it'd been more of a home than her London flat had even dared offer her, despite all the best efforts to make the hell hole something resembling a home. But not only was Bernie returning to her flat with Holden just next door again, she struggled to imagine what it'd be like to sleep alone again after all that time of staying with Roger. Just having his warm presence beside her, sharing the occasional cuddle on the colder nights and always having somebody to talk to when she couldn't get to sleep and somebody to wake up to every morning was its own separate category of why she didn't want to leave Rockfield.
Not only that, but the peacefulness, the leisure, the sound of birds chirping and the smell of clean air is something that once you've grown attached to, is difficult to let go of. The sound of Queen's music emanating from the studio and filtering into the yard through the gaps in the walls and doors of the much loved studio was another new thing that Bernie now associated with home and she thought it rather rude that they declined her offer for them to perform for her 24/7 for free wherever she went. She couldn't think why they didn't take up her offer on it.
The car ride back with Brian was one of melancholy impatience. Brian was dying to get back to London to see Chrissie and Bernie was dying to go back to Rockfield to avoid her problems. Even The Sweet being blasted through Brian's crappy sound system in his car couldn't rouse Bernie to tap her finger in time to the music. "You okay, Bernie?" She was about to answer Brian's question, breaking the thick silence, when he filled it himself. "Of course you're not, who am I kidding," he muttered to himself.
"What do you mean 'who are you kidding'?" she questioned, furrowing her eyebrows and sighing. As always, Brian had her pegged. Instantly. She couldn't even heave a haggard breath without him picking up on it, crushing her with facts about colds, flus, scarlet fever and anything else that could evoke the slightest of coughs. Or even the threat of a sneeze.
"I know you know what I mean."
"Oh yeah? Well I know you know that I know what you mean, so just say it."
"Don't do this. Look, I know that you know I know that you know what I mean and I can't be arsed to carry on this pantomime-like act."
"What pantomime-like act? All I'm saying is that I know you know that I know that you know that I know you know I know what you mean!"
"Why the fuck did that just make sense!" Brian roared angrily, slamming his hands on the steering wheel as they sped down the motorway, but he was beaming.
"I have no idea!" Bernie sing-songed in return, looking out of the window. October was in only a couple of days and the cool summer breeze had turned into nippy autumn gusts, warranting the car windows to stay firmly sealed shut.
Brian's voice went back to serious and she knew that there'd be no laughing her way out of his interrogation light of a voice this time around. "Honestly though, Berns, before we get back, what's on your mind?"
"I just don't want to go back to my flat, is all. I'm just being a child who's throwing a bit of a strop when I can't get my own way." Her gaze didn't break away from the window, even though she was feeling a little bit queasy from the sight of all the cars whizzing past. Her eyes went blurry as she'd been focussing on the same spot the entire time, bringing on a dull headache behind her eyes.
Taking one hand off the steering wheel, Brian reached over and patted Bernie's knee, sighing. His little red Mini continued to chug merrily down the motorway, bringing her closer to her least favourite place in the world. It had only just occurred to her that outside the car were millions of other lives, also oblivious to the people in their cars around them. They weren't just drivers, they were people. Some would have wives, some would have children, some would have sick relatives, some would have pet dogs, some would be doctors, some would have just passed their tests, some would be going to the airport and some would be doing or have or be none of the above but something equally as important to them.
"Bernie. I really, really wish there was something I could do. I don't have space in my house to take you in as a lodger, otherwise I'd have you round mine. And shut up about this throwing a paddy thing, it's okay for you to not want to go back, I certainly wouldn't."
"Thanks, Bri. I'll sort something out, though."
The second Bernie walked in, alone, through her front door, laden with all her bags, the phone started ringing on the hook. Rolling her eyes, wondering when she'd be able to catch a break, she strode over to the phone and picked it up. "Hello?"
"Hello, is this Bernadette Maxwell?"
"Speaking." She recognised that voice. She hadn't heard it in months and months.
"Hello, Bernadette. I've been trying to get hold of you for about a month now, but your sister said you were away and wouldn't give me the number to your accommodation." DCI Lind said, somewhat irritably, to which Bernie just silently scoffed. She couldn't just magic her time away.
"Well, I'm back now. What is it?"
"Right, I must make this quick, I'm on duty and wasn't expecting to get hold of you. About the case regarding your injuries, Tiffany and an eye witness have admitted to the fact that she removed the sandbags from the bottom of your college agility equipment. Recent investigations have unveiled that Holden Henson, your landlord, is her cousin and there is perhaps some bribery involved. Unfortunately there's no solid evidence to support your case, so we are forced to drop it. I'm on recall, so I must dash. Goodbye, Bernadette. I'm really sorry there's no more we can do for you. If it were up to me, I'd have it sorted, but I have to listen to my colleagues too."
"NO!" Bernie screamed down the line in despair, trying to get DCI Lind to stay on the phone. "YOU BASTARD." She shrieked even louder, slamming the phone on the hook repeatedly as hard as she could, absolutely livid. "What kind of mind fuckery is this?!" Yelling into the emptiness of her flat was no good as she heaved her suitcases into her room, tearing everything out in an enraged frenzy, chucking her things into loose piles ready for further organisation.
How could they do this? Just drop the case? She was seriously injured. She could be owed compensation, but now there was no chance of that happening whatsoever. She'd just been dropped. Dropped.
Dropped.
There was a knock at the door.
8/4/23