“What with?”
There was a long pause, then:
“Knife.”
“Sorry?”
“A knife. I keep one on me—”
“For God’s sake, Robert. That’s how you get killed.”
“Saved my life tonight, though, didn’t it?” he spat back, unrepentant.
“Maybe.”
He lapsed into silence.
“So let me get this straight. They attacked you first.”
“For sure.”
“And you fought back?”
He nodded again.
“Did you injure them?”
“Got Davey a bit on the arm. Nothing bad.”
“Okay. Well, we can probably make that one play, but you’re going to have to cough to carrying the knife. Nothing to be done about that. I can probably get you out of here and back home, if I promise to stand for you.”
Robert looked up, surprised.
“But I’m going to need you to promise me that you won’t carry again. You get caught with a knife a second time and I won’t be able to help you.”
“’Course.”
“Do we have a deal?”
He nodded.
“Right, let me talk to them. We’ll leave Davey to stew for a bit, shall we?” Helen replied, a smile creeping through. To her surprise, Robert smiled back, the first time she’d ever seen him do so.
She was nearly at the door when he spoke.
“Why are you doing this?”
Helen paused. She considered her answer.
“Because I want to help you.”
“Why?”
“Because you deserve better than this.”
“Why? You’re a copper. I’m a thief. You should bang me up.”
Helen hesitated. Her hand was on the door handle. Would it be safer to turn it and go? Say nothing?
