by James Simpson
Julie, or WPC Julie Storey to give her full title, was furious. She had just been hauled through a gruelling disciplinary process lasting weeks, and eventually been officially warned for inappropriate behaviour.
She was seething, and seriously considering throwing the job in. All she had done was to pointedly look the other way and make no comment when a furious mother had pulled her unruly brat of a son's trousers down and walloped him twice in the supermarket. She was on her way to arrest a shoplifter who was a known troublemaker and a potentially violent junkie and considered the woman's behaviour, although rather crass, to be perfectly understandable, and that it was her duty to deal with a proper criminal rather than a harassed mother.
Unfortunately, the whole scene had been witnessed by one Alexandra Smart, a prominent civil-rights lawyer who adored being the 'rentagob' media mouthpiece for all kinds of groups who were supposedly discriminated against. These ranged from immigrants, asylum-seekers, detained terrorists, to single mothers and children.
She had videoed the whole scene on her mobile phone, taken Julie's number and reported the incident first thing Monday morning to the Chief Constable. Using her contacts in the liberal press she had turned it into a cause célèbre and made the police-force take disciplinary action against Julie who point blank refused to apologise.
Her inspector, a wise woman who had seen it all before, had eventually persuaded Julie to take a holiday in the sun and try to forget it, reminding her that the vast majority of the force and population regarded her as a martyred heroine rather than a wrong-doer.
Julie eventually returned to work, and on reporting back on Monday morning was summoned to a meeting with her inspector and the same Assistant Chief Constable who a couple of weeks previously had very reluctantly issued her warning.
She walked along the corridor, by now in a foul mood; the benefits of a fortnight of sun, sea and sin had worn off in a flash. I'm fucking well going to resign, take the bastards to a tribunal and sell my story to The Daily Post, if they fuck with me again, she thought as she entered.
To her surprise she found her seniors relaxing in armchairs, drinking coffee, and was summoned to sit down and offered coffee herself. The atmosphere was positively warm and friendly.
Julie wondered what kind of stunt the bastards were going to try to pull this time.
The Assistant Chief Constable opened with small talk, complimenting her on her tan and asking about her holiday. He then cut to the crux of the matter.
"Now constable, you will doubtless have seen all the press interest in your return to work. I had to run the gauntlet of a pack of idiot reporters asking me fucking stupid questions, as I'm sure you did. I also understand there is no significant other in your life at this time... we therefore consider it would be in the best interests of you and the force if you agreed to be seconded away for a few months."
Julie started to speak but was halted by an imperious gesture.
"It so happens that we offer administrative and technical assistance when required to the authorities responsible for law and order in a small independent British protectorate called Elysium. For donkey's years the officer there was a legendary sergeant called Jack Dixon and when he retired he was succeeded by a woman: Inspector Rosie Lee. One of the perks of this job is ten weeks paid leave with travel and accommodation expenses every year. Up till this year Jack Dixon has been fit enough to deputise as a special during her holidays, but unfortunately he is no longer fit enough. We wondered if you would like to fly out, have a few months to get used to the place with Rosie and then become her official deputy. It will have the rank and pay of a sergeant."
Julie was flabbergasted and temporarily lost for words. Eventually she said, "It sounds quite interesting sir, how long do I have to decide?"
"We need a decision today I'm afraid. There is an RAF transport leaving from Lyneham to our very important military base on Elysium on Wednesday, we want you to be on that."
"I'll think about it, sir," said Julie.
"Good, I'll see you after lunch at two-thirty. I can assure you that it will do your career no harm at all."
Julie walked back with her Inspector who encouraged her to grab the offer with both hands.
She then went home and phoned her Mum and Dad. Fortunately, they were both at home. They advised her to go and her mum went into a long diatribe about the state of the country and how the idiot politicians couldn't control the borders, had to let dangerous terrorists out of jail on benefits and, even worse, let grossly overpaid town-clerks abuse anti-terrorist legislation to spy on dog walkers. Finally, she told Julie that they were going to look at buying a place in Spain for their retirement in order to 'get away from this mad-house'.
Julie decided there and then to go. She saw the Assistant Chief Constable, got her travel warrant and a lift to Lyneham arranged, returned home to her flat, tidied up, sorted her arrangements out and packed.
The flight was hardly luxurious but she enjoyed the undivided attention of a group of servicemen who were going out for their tour of duty on the island's extremely strategic air and naval base, and top secret listening station.
They told her that Island folk kept themselves to themselves and it was rumoured that for locals the birch was still in use. Although they could use the beaches near the camp and also the local shops and walk on the island they were strictly forbidden from drinking in the pubs, except a couple on the beach next to the camp which was policed by the RAF. Julie was invited to join them there whenever she wanted.
After about six hours they landed and Julie was met by a corporal from the military police who drove her to the police station in a Land Rover. The scenery was stunning and the weather beautiful but the road was dreadful, rutted by tank tracks and obviously designed to discourage private cars from using it. He told her that winters could be very rough on the island, not particularly cold and nearly frost free, but very wild, wet and windy.
She met Sergeant Rosemary Lee, who was in her early forties, a strong and well built woman who was well proportioned, with a weather-beaten face and sun bleached short hair. She had obviously been very pretty in her youth, but was definitely not a dedicated follower of fashion. They bonded almost immediately, and Julie was instructed to call her Rosie or 'Tea' in informal situations like everybody else.
Julie looked puzzled and Rosemary laughed and said, "Rosie Lee - Tea, cockney rhyming slang - silly!"
She took Julie to her house and helped her with her luggage, saying, "I've left you some basic groceries in the fridge, have a wander around, get used to the place and I'll show you around the day after tomorrow. You should rest and get over the jet lag tomorrow, but I'll call round for you about five in the afternoon and we can have something to eat together."
The next afternoon she walked around the town. The houses were neat and mainly single storey, built out of the local granite and slate, (which were still important exports) and all had well maintained large gardens with large vegetable patches. It appeared that self-sufficiency and tidiness was a way of life. She saw very few cars, except for tractors, and a few Land Rovers and large Toyotas. Nearly everyone she saw, except for the elderly, either walked or cycled.
Without exception, everyone she passed greeted her politely, and as soon as she entered the local shop they knew her name and that she was the new assistant policewoman. She walked down to the sea and was amazed at the beauty of the granite cliffs, the pure white sandy beach and how unspoilt and wild it was. She didn't sunbathe but she saw notices directing one to naturist only, and mixed beaches. She was surprised - it obviously wasn't as prudish as she had thought it would be.
At five, Rosie called for her and took her to her house. It was beautifully decorated and the living room was dominated by a huge plasma TV and full of the latest technology. The meal was delicious and comprised locally caught sea bass accompanied with locally grown vegetables, and fruit. Afterwards, they watched a movie on the satellite channel.
Next morning she reported at the station in her summer uniform of blouse and skirt. When Julie asked about stab vests, radios, pepper sprays and the other essential accoutrements of modern British policing, Tea burst into laughter. She told Julie that they usually carried an extending truncheon but only as a symbol as it was very rarely used. It was obvious to Julie that there wasn't much crime on the island.
Next, Rosemary showed her the operations room and the cars and bikes and then finally they went down to the cells. She pointed out the holding cells first, then the longer term detention cells which also doubled as the local prison. It was notable that there were no occupants, or signs of any expected in the near future.
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