‘So you’re the Dartford One, well I won’t be turned into a laughing stock because of you. There’s a simple explanation to this accident, the gentleman is in bed, falls out, has a fit, sticks head in bucket and then dies, simple,’ said the numberless officer who had dispensed with the notepad and pencil.
Although humiliation and ridicule had followed him after the Dartford incident and at the moment seemed determined to stick around, this was too important to allow personal feelings to stand in the way of the truth. He turned towards QO 232, ‘Officer, surely you can’t agree with that?’
QO 232 weighed him up and down with a long disdainful look of contempt but finally spoke, ‘No you’re right, I don’t believe that.’
Wyse sighed with relief and retook the smug look which had formed upon Roger’s face, took stock of the narrow precipice he still clung to. Elms no longer attempted to show any emotion, as he hadn’t been sure what was going on for the last five minutes and the numberless officer seemed to be as dazed by his colleagues statement. Whereas the friend who had not moved from the doorway, continued to show the alarmed expression of someone who needs to be told that everything is going to be okay.
‘In fact,’ continued QO 232, ‘I believe the old man was having a nightmare and in fighting the monsters, tried to hide by putting the bucket on his head. Unfortunately they found him next to the sweet wrappers.’
Both QO 232 and the numberless officer had the dignity to pause for a few seconds before erupting with laughter. Patting one another on the back, a giggle from behind Wyse spun him round as if he had been caught by a whip.
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