DAYDREAM
Damn, damn…Rush inside the office. Quick, quick, quick…Grab some folders to go through and a mug of tea. Damn, which room is it in? Give a quick glance at the memos on the wall and run along the corridor as fast as possible without spilling all the tea around. Detective Sergeant Nkata tried his best but still he arrived ten minutes late in the meeting room and the training had already begun.
Mandatory training on the latest IT updates of the HOLMES system. Or "how to waste more time and have to go through more menus to get the same job done" Nkata thought sneaking into the training room as stealthily as possible, which was not that easy considering his stature. He noticed the disapproving look of Isabelle Ardery, acting DSI, on him as he was signing the attendance sheet and picking the training manual. Never happy, Winston thought. Well at least he was now seated in the back row next to Detective Inspector Lynley (God, they even had the inspectors come though they never use it themselves, Nkata mused) while Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers was on the front row, seated right between DSI Ardery and DI Stewart. Poor Barb, time will not pass fast enough for her reflected Nkata. Winston opened his folders, tossed them over the training manual open at the page that was displayed on the screen by the instructor and took a sip of his tea while checking the surroundings. He recognized some of his colleagues from the CID and there were also some constables he didn't know. But, save for the usual boot-lickers and the unfortunate enough to be seated near Ardery most of the audience was not paying that much attention to the training going on. On the other side of Lynley two constables were discussing over what seemed like sports bet tickets. Even Lynley had not went further than the slide on which was indicated where to put one's ID and password, if the manual in front of him was any indication. He was busy sketching something on a sheet of paper and seemed totally absorbed in his task. Winston Nkata smiled for himself. He knew DI Lynley often sketched during meetings. Always portraits. Usually of someone in the room.
I can make do with a model, Winston, or from memory but only if the face is a very familiar one and in this case it will be an expression I have seen many times. I am not talented enough to draw out of my imagination, Lynley had confided to him one day.
This was the day Nkata, freshly promoted sergeant, had to make a presentation to the top brass of the CID on how he had managed to sort out the killer of a young girl using unconventional means. Lynley, being his immediate superior on the case, attended the meeting. That day also the inspector had kept his head low over a sketch during most of the presentation, only looking up to ask a question (a relevant question, always relevant, had to be relevant with him, Nkata had mused). At the end of the meeting, when all the others were retreating to their offices and Nkata was gathering his notes and turning the overhead projector off, Lynley had come to him with a sheet of paper in his hand. "Well done, Sergeant Nkata. A good reasoning and a clear presentation. Good job." Winston had thanked him and he must have taken a curious glance at the sheet because Lynley had smiled and had handed him the paper on which he had drawn a pretty realistic portrait of Winston. "Would you like to keep it? As a souvenir?" Then he had added, as if to excuse himself "The thing is drawing helps me concentrate sometimes". Winston had taken the portrait and brought it home. He had put it in a nice frame and had hung it up in his bedroom.
Winston smiled at this recollection. The two constables were still chatting and the discussion had become more animated. Lynley remained unruffled, bent over his drawing. Whom was he sketching? Winston wondered. He contorted himself on his chair, just enough to have a peep at the face that was slowly coming to life under the inspector's strokes of pencil. His heart missed a beats.
Only an expression I have seen many times. I am not talented enough to draw out of my imagination. From memory.
From memory. Lynley was drawing from memory! He had seen this expression! On this face! Winston had a quick look again just to be sure that his eyes hadn't betrayed him. Incredible…
As he was looking up Nkata saw Ardery coming in his direction. She looked pretty upset. The constables! Nkata thought. They've been too noisy, she has spotted them and she's coming to give them a good ticking-off. She's gonna see the drawing! Nkata took his mug and pretending clumsiness spilled the hot tea on Lynley who jumped out of his chair choking back a cry of pain. Nkata rushed to his side.
- Sorry, sorry, sir. What an idiot! I've ruined your trousers!
- Winston! Can you really drink a tea this hot? Lynley was trying to joke while keeping the fabric soaked through with boiling liquid away from his thighs. I will dry them in the Gents.
- I come with you, sir!"
Before Ardery could reach them, Winston picked up his belongings and Lynley's and flew out of the room following Lynley to the Gents.
Lynley took several hand towels and started wiping up his trousers. Nkata put the stack of papers next to a washbasin, and sheepishly said:
- I'm sorry sir. I think the stain will not go away.
- Never mind. At least this gives me a reason not to go back to the training session. I cannot decently wear stained trousers all day long, can I? Lynley asked, winking at Winston who played along.
- Of course not, sir. You have to live up to your reputation.
- And we both know that my reputation is my most precious asset."
Their eyes met and they burst out laughing.
- Speaking of reputation, sir…Winston paused wondering how to tackle the subject.
- Yes, Winston?
- Well, er… I don't know how to tell, but…you see…
The former member of the Brixton Warriors, the man whose taste for knives had brought him a long scar on the face, was waddling in front of Lynley, twisting his hands like a child who does not know how to admit he has done something silly.
Lynley was baffled.
- Winston?
- Er…I am so sorry, sir, but, look, I didn't know what to do…the guv' was coming, see, and you hadn't noticed…and…well…the truth is I spilled my tea intentionally.
- Sergeant! The word lashed the air. Lynley frowned, his eyes suddenly as cold as ice.
Dammit! He's angry now.
No matter how hard Lynley tried to act as the usual copper or the man-next-door, when he was upset or when he wanted to impose his authority, he was the eighth earl of Asherton again, the Lord who was used to have the others obey him without protest. The change was automatic, without him even noticing it, but it was clear from the tone of his voice turning more imperious, from his bearing as he seemed to grow even taller than his usual 1.88 meter, and from the expression on his face suddenly steely. This usually led to fierce arguments with DS Havers who wasn't impressed and couldn't stand him acting like some pompous toff.
Winston reached out for the portrait and handed it to Lynley.
- You were not here, sir. I mean, it was as if you were daydreaming, you hadn't seen the superintendent coming and I reckon she wouldn't have like what you were drawing.
Lynley was lost. He took the sheet of paper and looked down at his drawing.
God in heaven! Did I really draw this? Without even noticing?
Lynley looked at Nkata. He saw no malicious gleam in his eyes, no judgement. The sergeant was only waiting anxiously for his reaction, for some reassurance that he had done the right thing. Lynley relaxed. He trusted Winston Nkata. The sergeant would not go gossiping about him. He was just not that kind of man. What had happened would remain between them. Lynley casted a glance at the portrait and couldn't help but smiled.
- I owe you one, Winston. Thank you.
- I think the guv wouldn't have been happy about this.
- For sure. I reckon she'd have taken it badly. I should be much more careful now.
- I think so, sir.
Nkata felt relieved, Lynley was no more upset, almost amused. What if he dared?
- Sir?
- Mmmmmh?
- You told me once that you always drew from a model but I've never seen her like that.
Lynley fixed his eyes on Winston but he was still smiling when he said:
- Frankly, Winston, I'm pleased to hear that!
When Lynley went home to change his clothes he was holding a folder with only a sheet of paper in it. A single sheet on which was the portrait of DS Barbara Havers, eyes closed, a smile on her parted lips, head tilted back in an intense moment of pleasure.