The Darkest Hour Read Online Free PDF

through the door. The man went down screaming under a storm of shields and bodies. Lauren let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. A police officer cut the tape binding her to Joe, then the tape around their wrists, asking, ‘Are you okay? Are you hurt?’, but Lauren couldn’t answer, could only let her head rest on the floor, her eyes on the most beautiful forest of boots and trouser legs.
    Two paramedics from Headquarters rushed in, kits swinging from their shoulders. Marcia Dunleavy’s face was pale, her eyes wide as she helped Lauren sit up. ‘Shit, mate, you okay?’
    Lauren pulled at the tape still hanging from her arms, suddenly needing to get it off. ‘Got any Hexol?’
    Marcia rummaged through the drug box. ‘Here.’
    Lauren squirted the alcohol solution along the tape where it stuck to her skin but it did nothing to the adhesive.
    ‘Let me do it.’ Marcia pushed Lauren’s hands away and started to peel the tape away. Lauren felt like a child being ministered to. She leaned back a little and found Joe’s back with her own. The other paramedic, John Hawthorn, was wiping at Joe’s neck with a dressing. Lauren felt Joe flinch.
    ‘Sorry,’ John said.
    Lauren felt for Joe’s hand and gripped it as the police hauled the handcuffed and still-screaming man to his feet. The knife lay on the floor by the wall. Officers marched the man past Lauren and she made sure to look him in the face, telling herself he wasn’t scary any more. Joe’s fingers curled around hers.
    A police officer brought their shirts over. The white cotton was stained with dirt from the filthy lino. Lauren couldn’t stand the thought of putting it on and dropped it back on the floor. Marcia Dunleavy put her hand on Lauren’s arm. ‘Sit tight and I’ll get a blanket.’
    Lauren sat with her arms folded across her chest. She was shivering now, cold even in the stuffy room. Police searched the flat. One dropped the knife in an evidence bag. Lauren could see blood on the blade. She drew in a long shaky breath.
    ‘Okay?’ Joe said. He was on his feet. A dressing was taped to his neck. He reached down a hand to her. She took it and stood, weak in the knees. He put an arm around her shoulders, and when Marcia came back with two white cotton blankets he helped her wrap one around Lauren, then draped the other over himself.
    Marcia said, ‘I’ve told the police we’re taking you to St Vincent’s for a check-up before you’ll do statements.’
    On the landing Lauren looked across to the neighbour’s door. It was open and an old lady was peering out, her dark hooded eyes sharp on them. Lauren nodded, and the woman nodded back.
    They walked downstairs as a group. Marcia and John carried their own gear plus the kits Joe and Lauren had taken up. It seemed so long ago to Lauren that they’d come up here, joking about the reason for the man’s crying. She could hear voices on the ground floor and pulled the blanket close around her neck and torso. She was aware of the beat of her heart and the movement of air in and out of her lungs. She wanted to go home.
    The day had turned cloudy in the time they’d been held, and the gloom of the apartment block’s foyer gave Lauren an eerie feeling. She could see onlookers trying to peer through the grimy glass doors, and a TV crew frantically setting up. She felt Marcia gather up a handful of the blanket at her back. ‘Ready?’ she said.
    Lauren nodded.
    Outside the air was humid and full of noise. Marcia and John’s ambulance, twenty-seven, was parked beside Lauren and Joe’s. The hazard lights flashed just out of synch. As the group neared the vehicles the clouds parted and sunshine lit the world. Joe opened the side door of twenty-seven for Lauren and held out his hand. ‘Your chariot.’
    She took his hand and pulled him to her. He smelled of nervous sweat. The blankets slipped partly off and Lauren was aware of the skin of her chest against his.
    ‘How did you know they