Saved By The Cops.

Chapter Four. PC Jason Tanner.

Chapter Four. PC Jason Tanner.

As my five am alarm rings in my ear, I let out a frustrated groan.

When will I ever learn?

Having more than my fair share of pints at Twinkle’s retirement do last night, when I was on early shift this morning, was idiocy at its finest. My mouth is furry, my head is pounding, and my stomach is churning as I force myself out of bed. I make a beeline for the toilet to relieve myself of the previous night’s alcohol before grabbing a quick shower and brushing my teeth. Twice, once to clean them, the other to get rid of that furry feeling on my tongue, then drag on my black trousers and white shirt.

I glance in the mirror, my blue eyes red from my hangover. My light brown hair is standing up at odd ends, despite my shower. Still, it doesn’t really matter what my hair looks like when I put my helmet on. I grab my outdoor coat, deciding to grab breakfast in the canteen before I go for the morning briefing.

I head out the door from my house. It was once a council house, which the previous tenants had purchased, and I bought it from them a couple of years ago because it is handy to be across the road from the station. It does me. Most of the houses on this street are bought anyway, and although, like with most council estates, there are issues, it is genuinely quiet on my street. Whether that is because of its proximity to the police station or the fact my neighbours all know I live here, I don’t know, but I never have any bother really. The odd shout of ‘Pig’ from the local teenagers when I pass by, but that is to be expected. It comes with the job. I could get all authoritarian with them, but then what is the point? It just makes me a knob. I would rather kill them with kindness and say ‘Good Morning’ than make it a bigger deal than it is. Unlike some of my colleagues, who take offence, I just let it roll off me. The only thing that pisses me the f**k off is parents refusing to parent their children and saying stupid stuff like. “If you don’t behave, the policeman will get you.” What if that kid needs help? Gets lost, or worse still, someone attempts to take them. They will be to f*****g scared to call out for a copper to help them. Trust me. It has happened, and one time with horrific consequences. Yeah, parents need to find a better solution to discipline their offspring than telling them I am going to come get them. Idiots.

I walk down my street, then take a right down to the main road, and head for the pedestrian crossing. There are no cars at five thirty in the morning, so I don’t bother to press the button and cross. After all, jaywalking is not a criminal offence in the UK. Hell, if it was, I would be busier than I already am. Trust me. I am busy enough! I walk past McDonald's and the fire station, stopping to wave as some of the lads from Blue Watch before heading into the station, also known as The Nick.

“Morning, Jason,” Karen, one of the PSCOs who mans the reception desk, greets me before buzzing me in. I smile politely, but honestly, I don’t stop for a chat. The middle-aged woman is lovely. Don’t get me wrong. But honestly, she will talk the hind legs off the back of a donkey if given a chance. Her dyed coal black hair hangs in a loose bun, her bright red lipstick, not really work appropriate, but she has been here since the beginning of time, so nobody dares pull her on it, smudged slightly at the corners of her thin lips.

I make my way directly to my locker, taking off my civvy coat, and pull out my stab vest, and tie the good old Windsor knot into my black tie. I prefer to wear the black polo shirts we are now issued with, but truth be told, I have a pile of them in my laundry basket, and I am too embarrassed to head to stores to ask for another one, and admit, once again that I haven’t bothered to tackle the washing this week, so white shirt and tie it is. I place my police tapes with my number 607 on my lapels, grab my Asp and handcuffs and secure them to my utility belt, then head directly towards the canteen. As I enter, Sergeant Smith, or Smithy as he is to all of us, must have the same thought as I had. He is looking paler than usual, sitting and eating a full English rather than his usual healthy granola and fruit to soak up the previous night’s alcohol and set him up for the day.

The smell of greasy bacon wafts into my nostrils, making my stomach churn. However, I know that the food will make it better, especially the greasy variety. However, as I glance at the large clock on the wall, I realise I don’t have time to eat a plate full of bacon, sausage, eggs, beans, black pudding, tomatoes and toast. I pick up a wooden tray, sliding it along the metal rails.

“What can I get you Hinny?” Nancy, the woman behind the counter, asks in her thick Sunderland accent.

“Egg butty, and a cup of tea, Nancy.” I smile at the woman, who, much like Karen downstairs, has been here since Adam was a boy and Eve a rib.

“Here you go hinny,” she grins back at me, placing the mug of tea onto my tray, along with my sandwich.

I pick up my tray and head over to where Smithy is sitting.

“All right, sarge?” I ask as I plonk my ass in the chair in front of him.

Smithy is an imposing presence. He even towers over me, and I am six feet tall and in good shape. Smithy likes the gym, and although he is nowhere near as big as Big Ben, the station officer from Marley Potts fire station, who used to work next door, is not that far behind him, with his bulging muscles popping out everywhere.

“Yeah. You are looking a little green around the gills, Tanner. You going to be good for today’s shift?” he asks. He is one to talk!

“Of course. Once I manage to eat this greasy egg butty, I will be all good to go. You are not looking that healthy yourself,” I comment as my Sergeant lets out a low groan and bobs his head.

“Damn Joanne and her, ‘Let’s see who can drink shots the fastest, the cops or fire fighters’ game,” he mumbles, grabbing his white mug of tea and slurping it down.

“You didn’t play that, did you? Rookie error, Smithy,” I gin at him. I maybe in a bad way, but at least I avoided Big Ben’s Mother’s crazy drinking games.

“Hum, it felt like a good idea at the time.” Smithy lets out another groan, dipping the last remaining sausage into his egg and eating it before placing his knife and fork onto his plate with a clatter, pushing it away as if the food was offensive to him.

Truth be told, it probably is to the fitness freak.

I much down my fried egg sandwich and gulp down my tea, the greasy food working its magic, already feeling a little better than I was previously. Glancing at the clock, I scrape my chair back and grab my tray, depositing it into the large tray holder at the side of the room, then make my way out of the canteen and into the briefing room.

I pull up a chair and wait to hear what has been happening around the city in the hours I was partying or passed out, and what I will be doing for the day. Smithy walks into the briefing room and stands behind the lectern, already beginning his briefing for the day.

“I know we are shorthanded. But, as most of you are aware. We have a new PC joining us on flexible hours in a couple of weeks. However, some of the guys from upstairs will be helping us out whilst we wait for PC Mable Adams to join us,” Smithy informs us. As much as one new member of staff is good, especially with budget cuts, it is a drop in a very big ocean. We are understaffed, underappreciated, and definitely underpaid.

“PC Tanner, you are doing house-to-house enquiries. There has been a spate of break-ins overnight. I want you to head to all the homes we mentioned. Get a statement, and then go door to door to any house that has a Ring camera to see what we can find. Your first call is to a woman who reported that they smashed her window and has the suspect on her camera. You have the pleasure of Jessie Symons to partner with. CID want in on this action, so you have back up,” Smithy tells me.

I nod. Jessie Symons is a cool dude, not up himself like some of the Coppers In Disguise can be when they get promoted to the Criminal Investigation Department. His half-brother is a CEO of the Threshing Floor corporation, and from the gossip around the Nick, his brother offered him half of his money, meaning the guy wouldn’t have to work a day in his life again. But Jessie loves his job and declined the money, and so now he is here, helping keep law and order in this city of ours.

I nod my head as the briefing continues. At least I will be out and about in the fresh air today; nothing like walking door to door to clear the remnants of a hangover.

The sound of scraping chairs fills the room as each of us heads out of the briefing room to get to the allotted jobs, proud to serve the people of Sunderland. Even if they do hate our guts.