Usual Disclaimer
I don't own the characters of Bodie and Doyle, or any others from the TV series. They belong to Mark One Productions and Brian Clemens.
I borrow them to write fiction for my own (and hopefully your) pleasure, with no financial gain to myself or anyone else.
TRUE COLOURS
"Ray!" Bodie's voice took on an ominous tone. "Over there!"
Doyle turned round, turning his back on the large group of friends at the table. He looked at Bodie, whose slight nod of his head spoke volumes.
Across the crowded bar Doyle saw a familiar face among a small group of people. He stared hard, and his chin jutted forward, in a gesture of defiance.
"Was bound to happen at some point," was his laconic reply. Bodie noticed his expression, quite at odds with his comment.
At the bar Ann Holly was laughing with a friend. They were loading a number of drinks onto a couple of trays.
"Who ordered the Wallbanger? Sue? And is the red wine for Emma or Clare?" Suddenly the friend looked over, and, catching sight of Doyle, went quiet.
"Grace, what on earth is the matter?"Ann's cut glass vowels sliced through the noisy cheerful atmosphere of the bar.
"Is that Ray Doyle over there? By the window seat?"
Ann stopped in her tracks and turned round. She looked long and hard at Doyle, and her mouth compressed into a thin line. She put the tray down and sat with her back to him.
Grace noted her friend's change of attitude. She sat there quietly, not really a part of the group. Every now and then she snuck a glance in Doyle's direction. After an hour or so, Grace could take no more.
"Ann . . . penny for them," she said.
Ann sighed hard. She smiled ruefully at Grace.
"I've not see him since we broke off the engagement. He never called, and I would have put the phone down if he had. I blamed him for everything. After Dad went to prison, I took a long hard look at my life and dad's. It was all there Grace, if I'd opened my eyes, I'd have seen it all. Then I got to thinking about Ray. We could have made it work you know." She looked sad.
"Of course he would have had to leave his job. I could have got him a placement at Groves . . ."
Grace broke in.
"I can't see Ray Doyle working in a solicitor's office Ann. He'd die of boredom in a week."
Ann tossed her head in retort.
"He would have got used to it. Better a lowly start as a clerk, than shot or stabbed trying to keep the peace." She stared into the distance, a dreamy expression on her face.
"He just needed someone to care for him. Get him out of those awful jeans and into a smart suit. Keith at Smile could have worked wonders on his hair."
Grace looked doubtfully at Ann.
"Don't you think he might not want to change Ann? After all, you fell in love with what he is, not what you want him to be."
Ann Holly narrowed her eyes and her face took on a haughty expression.
"Grace. He needed to change. Goodness knows he's got enough going for him. Apart from being a great cook and a pretty good artist he's far more intelligent than he lets on. He needs a bit of persuasion to do more with his life. I could have helped him. Once he'd seen the benefits of a regular job, not to mention the money, he'd have been happy. We could have had anything we wanted; a decent house, holidays, cars . . ."
"Children?" finished Grace.
Ann stopped in mid conversation.
"Oh I'm not sure about that. I've never really given it much thought. In fact, I can't say I particularly want children . . ."
"Well, Ray did," replied Grace forcefully. "He told me at your engagement party."
Across the bar Bodie kept an eye on his partner. He guessed that Doyle had kept his back to Ann Holly by sheer force of will. Doyle sat there quietly, downing a number of whiskies and taking little part in the Friday night banter which had become an established part of the CI5 operatives' routine.
At closing time, Bodie looked around and noted, with some satisfaction, that Ann was nowhere to be seen. The table she had occupied was empty except for the usual debris of dirty glasses and wine coolers, their bottles upended.
Doyle made his way, somewhat unsteadily, to the taxi rank with Roberts, Bodie and Jax. The wait was mercifully short, and soon all four men were seated in the cab, planning their weekends.
"Sharon wants to go to Oxford Street for some new shoes. I'm going to the match. Spurs against West Brom," said Roberts.
Jax smiled wickedly.
"Leanne has a whole weekend off . . . we aren't going anywhere!" he chuckled.
Bodie looked across at Doyle, who was staring out of the window.
"You've been quiet all night Ray," said Jax. "Planning something special . . . Sally maybe."
Doyle smiled briefly but without warmth.
"Nah. I need to sort some stuff out," he said, his words slurring slightly.
Bodie waited for his friend to elaborate, but Doyle had already turned back to the window. Bodie noted how tense Doyle was, knuckles whitening, and his jaw working quietly.
The cab arrived at the Camden flat and Doyle fell out the cab. He was surprised when Bodie also got out.
"You staying for a nightcap Bodie?" asked Jax.
"Yeah. Doyle's got a full bottle of Glenfiddich in his kitchen." he said merrily. The cab sped off leaving Bodie and Doyle on the pavement.
Doyle gave along hard look at his partner, knowing full well what Bodie had planned. After a minute, Doyle sighed heavily and unlocked the gate to his flat.
"Let's get it over with then," he said, motioning for Bodie to enter first.
Once inside, Bodie busied himself making tea, while Doyle, slumped on the sofa. Turning the TV set on, he cast a jaundiced eye over the listings in the paper before throwing it on the floor and sighing heavily. Not even a decent late night film on! He switched off the set when Bodie came back into the room.
Bodie took a chair and placed the mugs on the coffee table.
"Is that the first time you've seen her since her dad's arrest?" he began without preamble.
Doyle shuffled himself in to a sitting position and looked up.
"Of course it is," he replied crossly. "She made it plain she didn't want anything to do with me. Threw the ring back!"
Bodie looked embarrassed. Ann Holly had been off limits in conversation and comment for several months. Still, Bodie reasoned, if he voiced his opinions and Doyle didn't like them, he was the bigger of the two if it got to fisticuffs.
"Doyle, it was a lot more than that, and you know it mate," he began. "A marriage to her wouldn't have lasted five minutes – you just didn't fit in to her circle. She didn't like you doing the job and made it clear the rest of us weren't up to her standards. She'd have had you wearing a suit and tie to dinner, and mixing Manhattans for her posh friends! You would have suffocated under her thumb."
Doyle half rose from the sofa, his face flushed and his mouth a scowl.
"You reckon do you Bodie? At least I'm not governed by an over active prick!"
Bodie stared at his friend, recognising that his own anger was threatening to spill over.
"Sorry," he said shortly, not sorry at all. "You need to face up to things Ray. We all saw it! When she finished with you, you breathed a sigh of relief and got on with being Ray Doyle again. And it wasn't a moment too soon."
Doyle shot up from the sofa and launched himself at his partner. Bodie sidestepped a wildly thrown punch and almost lazily landed a haymaker on Doyle's jaw. His partner crumpled soundlessly to the floor and lay there.
Sighing, Bodie swung the light form across his shoulders and carried Doyle along the hall to his bedroom. He laid Doyle down and threw a blanket over his friend. Closing the door, he made his way back to the lounge, where he cleared away the mugs, tidied up and then, looking at the time, went to the hall cupboard and found a couple more blankets. Turning off the light and securing the locks he made himself as comfortable as possible on Doyle's sofa and went to sleep.
The next morning, Doyle, unshaven, shirtless and nursing a hangover the likes of which impressed even him, staggered to the kitchen and filled the kettle. He caught sight of Bodie on the sofa and cursed his friend for being able to sleep well, almost anywhere.
He carried two mugs of tea into the lounge and banged them down on the table, slopping the liquid on to the surface. Bodie opened an eye and held his friend with a steady gaze.
"Morning Ray. Feeling better?"
Doyle rubbed his jaw and winced slightly. He then gave a huge sigh and ran his hands through his unruly hair.
"I'm sorry mate. Too much Chianti and too many whiskies . . . and her!" He sat up and reached across for the tea.
"You were right though. I just couldn't see it. I was so eaten up with feeling sorry for myself; I didn't see it was actually for the best. Mind you, at first I thought we'd make a go of it. We were great by ourselves, but I always felt her friends were judging me . . . and I was found wanting! Then she started making the odd comment about my accent and my fashion sense. I could see she thought she was batting beneath her! I knew she wanted me to leave the service, and she wouldn't discuss it with me. Kept on about getting an office job. She didn't like you much either!"
Bodie gave a wolfish smile.
"That's because she had to settle for you rather than the well dressed, elegant and articulate person she wanted. Me! Couldn't stand her . . . toffee nosed little cow . . . she knew I didn't like her."
Doyle smiled.
"Chalk it up to experience. Anyway, when I do settle down, it'll be with someone like Sal who can put up with me, baggage an' all."
"Sal's got more sense than to get lumbered with you mate. She'll be our boss if she keeps on with her game plan."
Doyle sat there musing.
"Wonder if there are rules against sleeping with your boss."
Bodie got up.
"Can I use your shower?"
Doyle nodded in assent.
"Towel's in the bathroom cupboard. Fancy something to eat? I need a good breakfast to soak up the alcohol. I've got eggs and sausage in the fridge and bread in the cupboard."
Bodie gave him the thumbs up and wandered off to the bathroom.
He was enjoying a hot shower when he heard the entry phone bleep. Thinking nothing of it, he continued letting the hot water run down his back, and grimaced at Doyle's choice of soap – sandalwood! Old hippie!
He padded through to Doyle's bedroom and rummaged through a holdall. They both left an overnight bag at each others' flats. Their job demanded such vagaries. He found his electric shaver and plugged it in. He hated the things, never feeling properly groomed. He ran the instrument around his face, and then began to dress. Buckling the belt on a pair of blue cords, he stopped short.
From the lounge he could hear the cut glass voice on Ann Holly. Unlike her usual self assured tone, she sounded whiny and breathy – like a small child. He walked to the door and stopped.
" . . . I had to see you Ray. I guessed you hadn't moved away. I'll be honest with you. I've made a dreadful mistake! We both did. I want to try again with you. I should have realised how hard it was for you when dad was arrested. I know you wanted to shield me from the situation . . . I just didn't appreciate it. Now go and get washed and dressed and we can go out for lunch and talk about us."
Doyle's reply was muffled.
"Ray, you can do so much more. Just think of how our life could be with some money behind us. I've got some contacts. Do you remember Justin . . .?"
Bodie quickly pulled on a shirt and walked out in to the living room. He stared at Ann with barely concealed scorn.
She looked him up and down before speaking.
"You just can't keep out of things can you Bodie? I should have guessed you'd be here. Still giving advice are you?" She looked contemptuously at him. "I know you kept telling Ray I wasn't right for him. What would you know? Some shabby little soldier of fortune, working for whoever pays the most. Ray can do better than friends like you."
Bodie balled his fists and made to reply.
Doyle stepped in.
"Let's all sit down and talk this out shall we," he said calmly.
Ann and Bodie sat down and Doyle perched himself of the arm of the chair.
He smiled at Bodie.
"Just keep quiet mate. There's nothing for you to say."
Bodie started, but the look on Doyle's face stilled him.
"Ann. I made a mistake too," he began.
Ann threw a triumphant look at Bodie.
Doyle continued.
"I should never have got involved with you at all. You didn't want me; you wanted what you could mould me into. The Ray Doyle you want simply won't ever exist. You have no idea who I am or what I want."
Ann Holly's face crumpled. She clenched the sides of the chair.
"Oh Ray. Do you want to settle for this," she swept her arm around the flat, "a tiny little place here. Hardly room enough for one. I'm offering you the chance to better yourself. Get away from the danger and unpredictability of CI5. A regular nine to five job, that brings in money. We could get a decent place in Hampstead, new cars, holidays with our friends . . ."
Doyle interrupted her.
"Ann! Do you love me? Do you want my kids?"
She looked at him nonplussed.
"Er, well we can talk about that later. It's important that we make a start Ray, on your new life. I can help."
Doyle smiled at her sadly.
"Ann you just don't get it, do you? I have a job. Lord knows it's not regular hours but it isn't routine either. It doesn't pay well, but I earn enough. And friends . . . Ann, I have some of the best friends a bloke could want." He looked at her kindly.
"You can't actually give me anything Ann, can you? You can't even say the word 'love'. It'll never work between us. Another thing . . . I never considered giving up CI5 for you. I'll only do that when I meet someone I can't live without. When I meet the right woman I want to become Mrs Doyle! So you see Ann, it was never going to be you. You simply don't mean that much to me anymore."
He stood up and walked over the stunned woman. Gently he helped her to her feet.
"You need to leave now Ann. Go away and find another project to work on. Find someone who wants your help and will bend to your rules."
All the while Doyle was walking Ann to the door. He opened it and carried on, gently holding her arm. He walked out of the garden and to her car where he saw Grace sitting in the passenger seat.
"Take her home Grace. She needs a friend," he said simply. Without looking back he entered the courtyard and closed the gate.