Kev Kerrigan uncapped his Biro and fished his notepad from his pocket, performing a long-suffering double take when he saw its Dora the Explorer cover. Mumbling something about “those bleedin’ kids,” he flicked to a clean page, past crayon drawings of sheep and pigs, and a more abstract scribble that resembled a blue hedgehog.

“Let me get this right.” He shifted his chair closer to Jem’s, bringing with him a faint waft of baby sick. A suspicious white stain obscured the pips on his left epaulette. If anyone asked him about his family, he’d say he came to work for a break. “You and Officer…”

“Rosie,” Jem said.

“Officer Rosie.” He shrugged and wrote it down. “You managed to pull this lad up, just the two of you?”

“Yes.”

“And where was Trevor while you were tug-of-warring with Barton Bridge?”

“Um.” Jem focused on the wall behind Kev’s head, suddenly intrigued by a flu vaccination poster. “Uh, he was liaising with control.”

“I see.” Kev’s tone told her he wasn’t fooled. “So you yank the lad out of the void, and then minutes later you somehow chuck him into the path of a Fiat Panda.”

“I didn’t chuck him, I bumped him with the back door. And everyone was rubbernecking, so the car was going dead slow.”

“‘Bumped him…with the back…door,’” Kev said, scribbling it down verbatim.

“It got stuck,” she added. “On the step, and I didn’t know he was standing behind it. How could I?”

“‘Stuck,’” Kev was still writing. “Dare I ask what the damage was?”

She sighed. “Dislocated shoulder and road rash. I gave him plenty of morphine, if that helps any.”

“It might,” Kev said. As her immediate manager, it wasn’t the first time he’d had this sort of chat with her. “Look, it could’ve been worse, so things will probably go no further.”

She bowed her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “That’s good. Thanks.”

“Trevor’s gone off sick,” he continued, pretending not to notice as she dried her eyes. “Stress, he reckons, so you’re solo. I can’t see the resource manager doing anything with you at this hour. Head back to station when you’re ready.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll do that.” She stayed where she was until his footsteps had faded down the A&E corridor, and then she straightened in slow, halting increments. Her back and arms ached, and her palms were red raw where the rope had slid through them. She flexed her fingers, wincing at the sting.

“Damn,” a familiar voice said quietly, somewhere off to her left. “I had spare gloves in the car, but I never thought.”