‘Does it hurt?’ Her expression was a perfect mixture of compassion and annoyance. ‘Nah, I’m fine,’ Carlyle replied, happy to play the brave soldier if it would win him some cheap sympathy. ‘They sent me to A and E for a check-up, but nothing’s broken.’ He grinned at her lecherously. ‘They gave me the day off, though, to recover.’ ‘What happened?’ Helen asked, leaning back in her chair, all the better to get away from his raging hormones. Before he could say a word, his mother hijacked the conversation. ‘The silly sod was chasing after some criminal,’ she snapped, ‘and he slipped on some dog’s mess.’ ‘You tripped up?’ Helen bit her lower lip in an attempt not to laugh. Gripping his Fulham FC mug tightly, Carlyle glared at his mother, even though she had her back turned to him. ‘I thought you were off to the shops, Ma.’ ‘Yes, yes.’ Rummaging under the sink, she came up with a couple of Tesco plastic bags. ‘Is there anything you fancy for your tea?’ Then, more hopefully, ‘Will you be staying for something to eat, Helen love?’ ‘That’s all right, Lorna,’ Helen said brightly.
