They had always thought that the sun shone out of her arse and I began to get the nasty impression that I was going to finish up as the villain of this piece.Susan turned up home around lunchtime on Saturday. She must have thought that an attack was the best form of defence, as she came storming into the house and went straight into a verbal attack on me. As I expected my folks said very little and if anything took Sue's side.Sue demanded to know why I left her on the A303 when the police arrested Gary."Well, if you had driven home at lunchtime as you told your sister you were going to do, instead going to the MotorLodge to shag that prick Wilson all afternoon, you wouldn't have been standing on the A303 at that time of the morning, would you?" What are you talking about? I went to the MotorLodge by myself. I wanted a good night's rest before I drove home." Don't talk Bollocks, Sue. You were booked in there as Mr and Mrs Wilson in room 112. I saw the fucking booking-in form, and I. While we were climbing the stairs, he came around a bit and said he had to go to the washroom. I was waiting for him on the other side of the door. He must have been running his fingers through his hair with cold water. Drunk as he was, he had never looked better. His shirt was unbuttoned and my sweater that I had pulled over him earlier that night to protect him from the icy air was turned upside down, hanging on one shoulder. His hair was wild, all over his head. His half-closed intoxicated eyes were shining in the mild light of the corridor. “Now to bed, Sir,” I said. “Yes... yes,” he mumbled.I covered him with a bed sheet and a blanket, didn’t want to put a duvet on, for he would be too hot. “Sleep well,” I said turning off the lamp. The darkness that fell in that moment made the lamp post bulb shine through, right there in front of the window. Its light outlined the room and the Lieutenant’s face, half asleep but with eyes open.“Good night.” I was on my way out.He motioned to me.
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