‘No,’ David told him, ‘he wouldn’t. But . . . I told him this morning. He just shrugged and said, “Well, you know best. Nothing I can say about it. Been doing it myself for the past twenty-five years, so I can’t tell you any different.” If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was actually pleased.’
‘What decided you? I mean, you never showed the least interest in becoming a copper. Why now? And why do I get the impression that you made this decision rather sudden-like?’
‘I got mad,’ David said distantly, almost to himself. ‘It’s funny, but nothing’s ever really got up my nose like that before. When it happened, it was . . . well, funny things happened to me. Like, I could see things in myself that I’d never seen before . . . things I didn’t know were there. And I got this sense of purpose: it was sort of like a big shot of confidence, but different; I don’t know . . . I can’t explain it exactly. I just know that it’s something I have to do.’
Comprehension showed on Richard’s face like opened blinds.
‘It was you as put the boots to that Billy Sykes wanker! Him and his two friends, Ronnie and Frank. Wish I’d been there! Who else was with you?’