Sherry Baker-Smythe had come into my life when I was ten. I was universally hated and bullied at school because my father was a constable. He had arrested most of the fellow pupils' fathers, mothers brothers, uncles (you get the gist).Crime was rampant on the council estate I grew up in. My dad was the only non-dirty/non-bent cop in the neighbourhood. He also did not take shit from anyone. I digress...

I was particularly hated and bullied by a twelve year old behemoth bully called Rachael Docherty. She had failed twice and had joined our year. Whatever friends I had managed to hold onto disappeared as soon as Rachael began her hate campaign on me. There wasn’t a day she hadn’t punched me, kicked me, pulled my hair and pushed me down the stairs. The only reason that I hadn’t been harmed permanently was that I was a lot faster than her. Why hadn’t I told my dad that I was having troubles? I don’t know to this day. In those days I idolised him and wanted to be a copper when I grew up. I didn’t want him to know I was being hurt. Mom just thought the bruises were by me being clumsy.

I had complained to one of my teachers, Miss Lacey. She was an idealistic young woman from London who wanted to make a difference in our little council estate school. She had gone to have a word with Rachel’s father, Harry Docherty, patriarch and thug extraordinaire. He had agreed to discipline his daughter. The next day while she slept in her little flat he had burnt her car down. She transferred soon after that. So Rachel with her huge body, meaty fists and ignorant rat face had ruled the school.

I was sitting in a dreary English lesson when Sherry walked in. She was small and delicately built with curly blonde hair and large blue eyes. She looked like one of those porcelain dolls. Her uniform though identical to ours was in a much better quality material. Her father had transferred for work (I found out later that he lost a lot of his money in a bad investment). She sealed her fate ten minutes into the lesson when she made two rookie mistakes. Firstly she had answered an actual question the teacher asked and secondly she had answered it in her upper classy accent. Rachel turned to stare at her eagerly and I saw the signs with a sinking feeling in my stomach. I couldn’t prevent what was to happen.

It occurred at lunchtime in the quad. I was huddled behind a tree trying to avoid Rachel’s gaze. As usual there were no teachers around to supervise. I looked up to see Rachel closing in on Sherry. I tried to warn her though I’m not sure my hand waving and head shakes were being deciphered correctly. She looked up at Rachel warily and Rachel made a grab for her neck. I found out later it was at a gold necklace.

“I want that, worm,” she screeched in her viciously thick voice and made a grab for the necklace again.

“No,” said Sherry bravely, “My grandmother gave that to me before she died.” Rachel was surprised at Sherry’s courage. I watched her face screw up in anger and she punched Sherry in the stomach. Sherry went over with a girly grunt of pain. To my own horror, I stood up and ran towards them screaming, “Leave her alone!”

I arrived at the scene and felt my stomach drop in terror but I wasn’t going to let that slagbag find a new victim. She pulled her fist back and smacked me hard in the face clipping me in the eye. It hurt like a mother fucker but I didn’t fall over. And before I knew it my own fist was flying through the air towards her face. She was so surprised at me fighting back that she never moved and like slow motion I watched her face jerk back too as I planted her one in the mouth. My knuckles were bleeding and so was her mouth. She then launched herself at me flailing her large arms all over the place. Each blow was more painful than the last. I think I managed to get one good head butt in. In the midst of my beating, I heard to my amazement a screaming shout of rage. I looked through my rapidly closing black eye as I saw Sherry throw herself into the mêlée at Rachel’s back. The whole playground was full of children watching and screaming at us in encouragement. I managed to get Rachel off with a push and a whack in the face. Like most bullies there was no fun in it for her when her victims fought back.

I can’t remember the next few minutes because I could only see out of one eye. Ten minutes later we were all pulled apart and sent to the principal’s office. Rachel had been expelled at last. This was the final straw in a long line of transgressions. Ding! Dong! The Witch was dead. I sat and looked at Sherry in awkward silence. She wasn’t looking so doll like now. Her curly hair was all over the place, she had a bloody mouth and her uniform was ripped in parts. I looked just as bad and I could feel my eye involuntarily closing. I was aching all over.

"Thank you," Sherry said and spat out a tooth almost nonchalantly. And that was it. All it took to fall into best friendship with her. Despite her posh accent and middle class background she was wicked fun, up for a laugh and the most caring and decent person I knew. She told me that she felt the same way about me but hers had occurred the moment she saw me running up and screaming at the Rachel Docherty to save her necklace.
 
Our parents were called in and I remembered Dad and Mr Baker-Smythe were trying to hold in their laughter. My mother threatened to give me such a sore bottom that I wouldn’t be able to sit for a week. I never knew this until I was grown and dad was dying but he went to have a talk to Rachel’s father. The threat of prison outweighed any kind of revenge. Soon we were inseparable. Well, we still are. I’ve had boyfriends break up with me because of my bond with Sherry. I wasn’t really bothered about that. When mom died and dad was away ‘starting up his new business’, I practically lived with her family.

I lay in Sherry’s spare room going over everything in my mind. I thanked God I had her in my life. I could smell pancakes and it was semi light outside. Why hadn’t I asked Tony the Tip if he had killed Maxwell Jackson?

A dark inner voice replied back ‘Because despite your blabber mouth you didn’t subconsciously want to know’. God when your inner voice tries to psycho analyze you then you know it’s time to stop thinking about your worries. I got out of bed and had a quick shower to wipe the night from hell off me. I felt dirty inside and out and walked into the spare room. I kept some spare clothes at Sherry’s in case we were too drunk down our local to get home. Well actually, I had left them there and forgot to return them to my house. I dressed in a pair of soft worn blue jeans, a grey fitted t-shirt and some socks. I was ravenous.

Sherry was going through one of her ‘Find herself ‘stages again. She had briefly flirted with Buddhism, Taoism, Chrystal Healing (Don’t EVEN get me started on that shit). I had tried to make her see sense on some things like veganism. Giving up meat was sacrilege in itself but I could accept that. Giving up milk and cheese however was retarded unless you had an allergy. I did the ‘supportive friend’ thing and ate a selection of awesomely tasty dishes containing beans, lentils and tofu. They weren’t really tasty or awesome. The veganism had been defeated by a particularily bad hangover we were both suffering through. I couldn’t deal with it anymore and made myself a bacon sandwich at her house after going down to the local shop to get the ingredients. I made her a vegan substitute. A minute later she grabbed the bacon sandwich from my hand and demolished it. And that was that! She was the most well adjusted person I knew which was why these quests to find ‘herself ‘puzzled me. I loved her so I accepted no loved her little quirks. She certainly accepted mine (and I had loads).

She was wearing a brightly coloured dress and her feet were bare. The smells of the pancakes were amazing. I grabbed one in my hand and slathered it with maple syrup and stuffed it in my mouth.

“DishBrillainnt,” I said with my mouth full. She turned and looked at me reprovingly. It was one of her pet hates when people talked with food in their mouth. I did it sometimes to wind her up.

“I called Mac,” she said brightly. I nearly choked on my pancake. In fact the next five minutes that passed included me coughing and choking so badly I couldn’t crap her out. I tried to glare at her but the effect was diminished by the tears running out of my eyes involuntarily. Finally I finished coughing and glared at her.

“Why did you do that?”I asked my tone more shaky than accusing. Stupid pancake! Her whole demeanour screamed her guilt but she stuck out her chin stubbornly.

“Look Luce, You know I love you, right?” I waited for the ‘But’ I knew was coming and she didn’t disappoint, “But you have major trust issues. I know you think your father abandoned you after your mom died ...and that makes you push people away.” I started to begin a bright rage filled tirade against her for using psychology against me but she put her hand up to stop me.

“Lucy, you need help with this case. You could have been killed twice already. You are out of your depth. I can’t lose you.” Her voice wobbled on the last line and her eyes filled with tears. Like that my anger was defused and I felt a huge lump in my throat contract. And then began what I can only describe as typical girly behaviour of professing our love and crying and hugging.

“Oh shit!” she exclaimed in a shaky voice, “I forgot to give Mac my address.” She hurriedly tried to call him but his phone went to voicemail. I sat down and tucked into the pancakes and a nice cup of filter coffee Sherry had handed me. I heard the doorbell ring and heard Sherry answer it .I screeched down the corridor at her, “If that is a hot single postman with a huge penis tell him I’m single.”

“Oh no, it’s just hot old me,” Mac said in a wicked tone. My traitorous body and dirty mind responded with glee.

“How did you find me?” I asked then regretted it. ‘He’s a detective, dummy’ I thought to myself. I just opened myself up for ridicule.

“There is an activated GPS tracker in your company mobile,” he told me and I tried not to choke on the pancake I was still eating.

“All my detectives have them, Lucy,” he said looking at my face obviously jumping to the right conclusions. I was getting rid of that damned thing as soon as possible. I didn’t want him to know if I was doing something outrageous like having a booty call. Not that I had anyone to have a booty call with at that moment but it was the principle of the matter. I didn’t say anything to that. I just continued eating before I did something stupid.

“We need to talk, Lucy,” he said seriously and my anger abated slightly. I knew he was trying to help. After weeks of fighting each other it was hard to not fall into the same habits with him. I told him everything from the beginning to the end. I didn’t leave anything else out. He never said a word just listened while recording me. Even Sherry was quietly sitting down and listening too. I wondered why she wasn’t at work and then carried on with my story. I felt like I had spoken for hours. I stopped and gulped down a sip of cold coffee.

‘Gross! Just gulp it down nonchalantly, Luce,’ I told myself. I could see Sherry trying to hide a laugh. My face must show my disgust. Mac’s mouth was turning up into a grin. I decided to spit it out in a ladylike manner and missed most of the cup but not my t-shirt. Brilliant...Just brilliant! The two asses began to laugh at me. My own sense of humour saved the day and I began to laugh too. It felt good for that moment to just not be thinking about death, gangsters and other fucked up shit. I was warm, fed and having a laugh in the safety of Sherry’s house.

Mac smiled warmly at me, “You’ve been going about this case blindly like some kind of ermmm...“ I could see him trying to think of something that wasn’t derogatory, “Some kind of accidental detective, Lucy.”

“More like accident- prone detective,” Sherry quipped wittily.

I gave her a beady eye and said in a faux sweet voice, “Don’t you have to work today, smart ass?”

“No,” she said. Her grin was getting bigger. “I told Mr Johnson I was having lady troubles...He’s so repressed that all I got out was ‘lady’ and he said to stay at home and slammed the phone down.”

“Sherry, remember that time when you got a certain haircut that might or might not rhyme with a Bohawk? “ She looked at me panic stricken. She had gone through an extremely rebellious punk stage in our teens and shaved her hair and gelled it up in a Mohawk. The problem is that behind her blonde curls she has the ears of a wing nut. I had a photo hidden for these kinds of occasions when she is annoying me. I keep on threatening to join Facebook for the express purpose of posting the picture up.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “I’m bloody going...I need some things for dinner... Anywaaaaaays. I’m doing a roast.” She smiled brightly and that is the one reason I love her so much. Nothing keeps her down for long.

“Do you want to stay for dinner, Mac?“ she asked and it wiped the smile off my face. Witch!

“Yes, sweetheart,” he said with a charming smile and she honest to goodness blushed. I rolled my eyes at her and motioned for her to leave. I didn’t want her involved in any of this anymore than she needed to be.

"How are you going to fix this?" I asked.