Free Playing James by Sarah Mason

up and take in the Ralph Lauren shirt and subtle tie. I quickly start writing his last comment down in my notepad lest he thinks I'm looking at him. 'So, how long have you been in the police force, Detective Sergeant?'
    'Nine years.'
    'Did you join from school?'
    'University.'
    'Which one?'
    'Durham.' I stop scribbling and raise my eyebrows in surprise. He glances over at me. 'Does that astonish you, Miss Colshannon? That I'm qualified? Or were you expecting me just to have a GCSE in woodwork?'
    'Well, if you had, you might have been able to chisel that chip off your shoulder,' I reply acidly. He's starting to rattle my cage.
    'Touché,' he murmurs. The rest of the journey is completed in silence.
    As soon as we enter the doors of the hospital, the strong, familiar smell of disinfectant assaults us. I wrinkle my nose as cringe-making memories of the condom incident last week hit me. I look around me warily, hoping not to be recognised, and then give myself a shake as logic asserts itself. They must see hundreds of people here every day, so it's not likely they'll remember me. I follow James Sabine more confidently up to the front desk. He flashes his ID at the lady on reception.
    'I'm here to investigate the thefts.' The lady picks up a phone, speaks to someone briefly and then replaces the receiver.
    'You'll need to speak to Dr Kirkpatrick. He is in the Munroe wing, ask at the desk there.' And with these words we are instantly dismissed as she turns her attention back to the magazine lying open in front of her.
    I freeze. Dr Kirkpatrick? DR KIRKPATRICK? Oh no. This cannot be happening to me. James Sabine strides off at a breakneck pace, throwing doors open as he makes his way relentlessly towards the Munroe wing. I am lagging behind in an attempt to give my brain time to think. He shouts over his shoulder, 'Keep up!'
    On the way there I consider the various options open to me, including getting lost, catching chicken pox between the reception and the Munroe wing and various other extreme case scenarios. The problem with all of them is that I really need to be present at my first case otherwise James Sabine will think he's got the better of me somehow. Right. Only one thing I can do and that is brazen this out.
    We reach the Munroe wing in Olympic record time and James Sabine asks for Dr Kirkpatrick. The great man himself appears and there is much ceremonious hand-shaking as Detective Sergeant Sabine introduces himself. I surreptitiously scrape some hair over my face and wonder if I could squeeze between the bin and the vending machine. James Sabine then turns to me and says, This is Miss Holly Colshannon. She is here for
observation only
.' He says this to Dr Kirkpatrick but the emphasis is really directed at me as a reminder of rule number one. As if I could forget. Dr Kirkpatrick is staring at me.
    'My word! There's a name I can't get away from! They should give you your own parking space!' Oh bum. This is going to be worse than I thought. Many curses upon his pedantic memory. I look through several strands of hair and smile weakly. Detective Sergeant Sabine has his eyebrows raised so high I think they're going to pop off the top of his head.
    'Ha, ha! Hello again,' I say in a pathetically weak voice.
    'You were here last week, weren't you? Interesting, er, scenario.' Now they are both staring at me.
    'Yes, yes, I was,' I say, maniacally twiddling my hair around my finger and going bright red. Goodness, do we have to spend so much time on the subject? Surely there are more important things to chat about? The Euro? Global warming? Third World debt?
    'How's your friend? Is she OK now?'
    'Yes, fine, thank you. Never better.' For a rash moment I consider shouting, 'Quick! Look over there!' and then making a run for it, but I uncomfortably hold my ground.
    'You'll laugh about that in years to come!' Really? I think we'll probably smile awkwardly and change the subject. But I say in an unnaturally high voice, 'Yes! I'm sure we