She looked OK. Stark felt dreadful. Another demonstration of his new infirmity. ‘Rule number one, no effing sympathy,’ replied Stark, artificially bright. ‘Heartless bastard! What kind of stupid rule is that anyway?’ ‘Page one of the bloke handbook.’ ‘Bollocks, men don’t read instruction manuals. The rest of the pages are probably blank.’ ‘We only need one page, not requiring hundreds more for sub-clauses, caveats and impenetrable small print.’ Fran made a face. ‘Make sure you sit at the back in the team meeting so Groombridge doesn’t see the state of you.’ ‘I never knew you cared, Sarge.’ ‘Piss off, lightweight. Go and get me a coffee.’ Ice was broken, it seemed. If this signalled the start of a beautiful friendship, Stark wondered whether to fear more for his privacy or his liver. He limped down the corridor and opened the door, hearing Groombridge’s voice in the stairwell below. ‘… simple enough question. Stark remembered to take photos with him, a trainee investigator.
What do You think about If I Should Die (Joseph Stark)?
