Читать книгу The Confessions Series - Ash Cameron - Страница 11

In the early days, they tested policewomen in a way they never would, or could, today. I resisted the arse-stamping initiation, something they did, or tried to do, to all new female officers and some civilian workers too. A swift tug of their skirts and down with the underwear, they’d try to brand their bottoms with the station stamp, a sort of ‘you belong to us now’. I was very shy, embarrassed and could think of nothing worse. I wasn’t going to let them get me, but they had me in other ways. Messages such as ‘please ring Mr C Lion at London Zoo re an enquiry’ or ‘Mr Don Key at the local council’. One poor policeman was sent to the chemists to ask for some fallopian tubes. Like in many jobs, you learn to develop a sharp skill and quick wit that wasn’t in the formal job description. I had a good right hook, should it be necessary. But they had me in other ways.

As the lone female probationer on a shift made up of men, I had to make the tea at the start of every shift and all the other breaks that policemen took. There was another woman on my relief but she was mainly on desk duty and she had much more service than me behind her, about four years more. Two guys started at the same time as me but they were men. It wasn’t their job to make tea unless I wasn’t there, then it was. However, I now make a mean cuppa, even if I can’t stand the stuff, so I have to say thank you boys.

As in many predominantly male occupations, there was a lot of sexist behaviour. It’s only now looking back that I realise the full extent. There was a lot of banter, some quite risqué, though I think there was general respect from most men and they didn’t go too far. Many had wives, or girlfriends, or daughters and said they wouldn’t want them to do the job, that it wasn’t work for women. Older guys, those who’d done their time and were ready to retire, thought women should deal with the domestics, give out the death messages, look after abandoned or abused children and deal with sexual assaults. They remembered a time when there was a Police Woman’s Department and female officers only dealt with those things.

When it came to the reporting of dead bodies, known as sudden deaths, the call was usually despatched to the probationers. It was down to them to deal with the families, the doctor, the undertaker, the paperwork and often attend the post-mortem (PM). It’s an ideal way to get used to being a police officer and to learn how to be professional in such circumstances. It’s the same today but back then, the priority went to WPCs. Make me or break me, malicious or mischievous, it was seen as toughening you up, and ultimately, you had to do it. Or get out. But times change and it’s no longer like that. Yes, the first jobs probationers are given are still sudden deaths, shoplifters and civil disputes, but there are as many women officers as there are men, and sometimes more. Any hint of testing the metal in a sexist or racist or any other ‘-ist’ way, and Professional Standards (previously known as Complaints) would come down and haunt you out of a job.

It might not have always been right, and some would argue there were quite a few wrongs in the way some people were treated back then, but we had a lot of fun and learned to laugh at ourselves as well as others. Earning respect and proving your worth is still good currency and I have no complaints about that.

But back then, I was given ten dead bodies to report on in my first five weeks and we used to have to attend the post-mortem for every sudden death we dealt with, unless it was a murder in which case it was a job for CID. By the time my probationary group had our official PM training session, I’d already been present at many.

Two of the men in my group fainted and one clung to a drainpipe as he threw up in the swill yard (where the hearses delivered/collected the bodies). I stayed long after we were dismissed to go home and discussed the procedure with the pathologist and the mortuary attendant, eager for information and willing to learn what I could.

I enjoyed my job – all of it, even if it did include a bit of death.