LITMIR.BIZ

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       Night-duty eyes

       On the job

       Dead ringer

       Perks

       Lucky ladders

       Downfall

       Ailsa MacPhee

       A quick buck

       B for bingo

       Game on

       The beano

       Busted

       Hats off

       Ménage à trois

       The cost of an arrest

       The day I met Jennifer

       Exciting boredom

       Saving lives

       It came off in my hand, sarge

       Christmas confession

       The call you’re waiting for

       Animal lovers

       Stanley the Stallion

       Dirty Don

       Importuning and all that

       Daisy chaining

       A pounding

       Cassie’s girls

       Courting

       The verdict

       Contempt

       Through the square window

       Let right be done

       In stitches

       The day Diana died

       Women’s work

       Mommy dearest

       What do you call it?

       Double jeopardy

       Not their fault

       Mum’s gone to Iceland

       Mother love

       Fly away home

       Wearing his ring

       Who’s lying?

       The man in the corner

       Head case

       When the Twin Towers fell

       Bin-bag kids

       Pets at home

       For Stan, Santa

       Chasing motorcycles

       Bad apples

       Fair cop, guv’nor

       The waiting room

       In my head

       The end – again

       OTS and other strange things

       Acknowledgments

       About the Author

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       The end

      I was nineteen when I went to London to join the Metropolitan Police. I left the police force twenty years later, combining my leaving do with reaching forty.

      They say life begins at forty. Mine didn’t begin but it did change. I look back and wonder: that person, that police officer, was she me?

      It’s easy to see why cops feel battered when the people they deal with are often the bad people, the sick of mind people, and the victims and witnesses who are often distressed. And there are those who for whatever reason blame the police for everything.

      Police officers can become embittered working in areas of high crime, populated by people with an abhorrent dislike of the law and those who try to enforce it. It’s easy to understand the cynicism and jaded outlook when the days are filled with endless abuse and violence and grief.

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