Max squeezed Millie's hand reassuringly and gave her a little smile, hoping to coax the same from her, but she couldn't reciprocate. Worry and fear were etched deeply into her brow and her bottom lip was quivering so much she had to bite down hard to stop it.

"It's going to be okay. Stay here. I'll get him," he whispered. Millie nodded and sniffed, she wanted to believe every word. She wanted him to believe she had complete faith in him so that he could focus and not make a mistake. Reluctantly she pulled her hand free, letting him go, watching her fingers separate from his. Max flexed his fingers around the hand gun in his other hand. Not the type of weapon he was used to using, it was almost like driving an automatic car after having always driven a manual, he mused abstractly. Shifting his mind back into gear, he took a quick look over his shoulder, then back to Millie for a fortifying kiss and tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear before stepping out from behind the filthy pallets that had been their source of safety.

Out of her sight, Millie listened intently to his quiet footsteps, straining to hear any other noises that would warn him of danger. Two shots rang out echoing off the bare walls of the derelict brewery basement. Between them, the sickening sound of a body falling to the ground with a lifeless dull thud.

A week earlier - August bank holiday weekend, Saturday morning.

Max couldn't stay in bed any longer. He'd already been awake for an hour listening to the rhythm of her breathing, rehearsing his words over and over. Millie lay on her side with her back to him, her hair flowing around her. He wanted to run his fingers over the curves of her body and nestle into her, but inevitably she would wake and then who knew when he would get another chance to do what he had planned. Carefully he eased out of bed and into the bathroom to splash water over his face and quickly brush his teeth. Grabbing some clothes he shrugged them on and made his way silently out into the hallway listening out for any sound or sign of life. Nothing. That was good. He crept down the stairs, avoiding the squeakiest step second from bottom, and sighed with relief as his bare feet hit the cool wooden boards of the hall floor. After what felt like weeks of incessant rain, the preceding days had suddenly grown hotter and hotter to the point where Max had been clawing at the walls of his office to get out to the country to Richard and Sondra's home where the air wasn't thick with noise, fumes and dirt, and where he wasn't surrounded by the equally filthy detritus of society. He needed a break away from the hideous reality of it all, even if only for a couple of days.

The silence was broken by the sound of scratching at the door to Richard's study, followed by a sharp "Charlie, stop that!" as Richard shouted at the family Spaniel. Max could fool the rest of the family with his stealth, but the dog's hearing was second to none. He took several deep breaths as he approached the wooden door, building his resolve yet feeling more nervous than he could ever remember. He didn't need to do this, it was an absurd outmoded convention but Sondra had made pretty clear, without actually saying anything directly of course, that it would be regarded favourably. Max fisted his hands and clenched his jaw, then knocked with what he hoped was would pass as conviction.

"Come!"

With only the briefest hesitation, he turned the doorknob and stepped inside the inner sanctum. It should have been with dignity, but Charlie, as always so excited to see her friend, rushed at him, nearly tripping him up not for the first time. Cursing under his breath for forgetting to look down before entering a room wherever the dog was likely to be, he disentangled his legs, gently guiding the animal away. When Max looked up he found Richard staring at him, clearly wondering at his ineptitude. It was not a good start to what he had hoped would be a forthright man-to-man conversation.

"Max, what can I do for you?" he asked from his chair, not offering any assistance.

Max wasn't sure, but he could have sworn there was a glint in the older man's eyes that hinted he knew exactly why Max wanted to see him.

"I, er, want to ask you something."

"I see, well, take a seat," Richard waved a hand at a chair on the opposite side of the imposing desk that dominated the room. Immediately, Max found himself doing as he was told. "So, what is it?"

"What?" momentarily caught off the ball as he negotiated his way round the dog to sit down.

"What did you want to ask me?"

"Oh," he swallowed hard, thinking how ridiculous this all was. "I … I want … no sorry, I would like your permission to er, ask your daughter to marry me, Millie that is." There, done. Now all he had to do was wait for the reaction. Not that it mattered, he told himself strongly, he was going to ask her regardless of what Richard said now, but even so he realised how badly he wanted Richard's approval and he knew how much it would mean to Millie.

Richard sighed. "I thought this might be on the cards. I can't say I'm thrilled. You're a copper and that's something I still find hard to deal with. And to have you for a son-in-law …" he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes as if that would make the prospect more palatable.

"But she's a copper too. I don't understand why it's different that I am."

Richard's eyes snapped open. "Because Millie is different. She doesn't poke around looking for trouble. I wasn't happy when she joined, didn't think it would last to be honest but she seems to enjoy it and that's what matters most. For her sake, I have to live with it."

"So it is me you have a problem with."

"Not exactly, although there are elements of the past that I'd rather you didn't know too much about."

"Really?"

"See? That's what I mean. I hint at something and immediately you want to know more. Let's just say not every one of my transactions has been whiter than white, but I wouldn't be alone in that. Even you must have got close to the line on occasion," Richard eyed Max beadily but Max held his nerve and gave nothing away, "or perhaps had colleagues that did cross the line while you said nothing?" he paused, watching. "It's all old history now and in an era I'd rather forget. I don't think anything I've done was illegal, but some of my old friends, good friends … well, I don't want to drop them in it with the law. And I'm not sure that I can trust you."

"What if I promise not to ask questions?"

"Do you think you could keep a promise like that?" Richard asked with a laugh before continuing, "of course, it doesn't help that you remind me of myself, when I was younger and that worries me."

"Why's that?"

"Because Millie isn't like Sondra, who you may have noticed, runs this place, me and the business as well if truth be known. She's so much tougher than Millie and I need that. I suspect you do too. I'm concerned that Millie won't be strong enough to rein you in, that you'll run roughshod over her and make her unhappy." Max swallowed in disbelief that her own father knew so little about his favoured daughter, but he let him continue as his tone turning mournful. "Besides, that isn't really it. You've taken my place in her life. Millie was always mine, while Tara has always been Sondra's. First I lost some of her to her job, now I'm losing more of her to you. There will only be a tiny piece left for me."

"I'll look after her you know, she means everything to me," Max realised that they had finally reached the crux of Richard's reservations and hoped that he could convince him of his devotion.

Silence hung between the two men, saying more than words could until finally Richard spoke. "Yes. I'm sure you will."

"Does that mean I have your permission?"

"Do you need it?"

"I, um, thought you might like to give it."

"Sondra?"

"Yeah," Max hung his head sheepishly.

"I see. Did she explain?" Max shook his head. "I see," he repeated in a mutter, looking out of the window. "I refused to ask her father for his permission and to this day she's convinced that if I had done so, he and I would have got along better. Man to man, you know? Broken down a few barriers. She's a wise woman, but there's still some youthful naivety in there. The only barrier between me and her father was class and no amount of chat would have made any difference. Only money has thawed the ice there."

"So Sondra has manipulated us both into this? She insinuated that if I asked you for permission out of respect, we would get along better."

"Looks like it." He laughed wryly. "She's probably right this time though. It must have taken a fair bit of courage to come to me like this." He met Max's gaze levelly, contemplating his next move and watching the tiny beads of sweat breaking out on Max's forehead. "No questions? There's nothing to find except a few incidences that mean nothing now and will only hurt people I care about if they become common knowledge."

It went against the grain, but Max felt he understood Richard's fears. "No questions," he agreed. "Do I have your blessing?"

"I probably wouldn't go that far," Richard joked, "but ask her. I doubt she'll refuse you."

Max closed his eyes in relief at receiving at least some measure of approval from the man he hoped would be his father-in-law. As he opened them, he found Richard still regarding him intently, tapping a finger on his desk. "There's money of course." Max was completely confused, wondering in mounting horror if Richard was now trying to buy him off.

"What?"

"Her money."

"Oh, good … no, I didn't mean it like that," reacting to Richard's darkening expression.

"Hmm, well. She has money, everything I've worked for was for Sondra and the girls. The flat is in her name, it's paid for and there's a fund-"

"I'm not interested in her money, we can manage-"

"I don't want her to manage," Richard rebuked him sharply. "I want her, and any children that she may, have to live well. I haven't put in all those hours over the years to have her 'manage'." Max's eyes widened, he hadn't really thought about children as anything other than hypothetical and realised with a jolt that he had better start thinking about that possibility with some seriousness. "But she always refuses to take anything, Tara on the other hand, is not quite so proud," he grimaced, thinking of the last humanitarian pilgrimage he'd been required to fund. "The rent that you've both been paying on the flat has been going straight back into the fund, not that she knows. Later, when … if she agrees to marry you, you and I will sit together and go through it."

"But it's Millie's. I don't-," Max was beginning to wonder if he'd slipped back a century or two.

"I don't care. This is the way I look after my family. You have a lot to learn Max." Max was just about to reiterate that he didn't want to be involved with whatever money Millie might have when Richard held up a hand to silence him. "Don't you have something else to do rather than argue with me?"