I can't believe what she's done to me. She's taken everything. I loved her, I still love her. I don't know why she can't see it. All the things that I did for her. She never appreciated me. She never gave a thought to my feelings when she was making decisions, going her own sweet way. No regard for me. It's not fair. You can't just do that to a person. And then to turn round and expect me to be their, hanging on her coattails, just waiting for her. Like some toy that she can drop and pick up again when the mood suits her. You just can't treat people like that.
And then to suggest that it was my fault that things fell apart. She has to understand that people have needs, feelings. I have feelings. She doesn't see, that's always been the trouble.
I love her. I've always loved her, and I know she loves me too. In spite of the way she's pushed me away and messed me around over the last few years. She does still love me. I can feel it. Even if she doesn't really understand it herself. The connection we have, it's special. It's strong. It's lasted us years and you can't break that. We've got a spark. Always have had. Even when she's screamed at me, I could still see that she loves me. I just have to make her understand. We belong together.
We were a good team. And I know that she's missed me. I've seen it on her face, in her body language. I've seen her sigh and drag her feet. She doesn't have the same energy, going into work these days, not that she used to. And she hates going home. She feels like she's got nowhere to go. It's a shame, really. She should know she can come to me. I'd take her back in a heartbeat.
I know there have been others, we've both been with other people. But there has never been anyone like her, for me. And there's never been anyone like me, for her, I know. We fit. I don't know why she doesn't come back to me. I'm not cross. I'd forgive her. I wouldn't hold it against her, what she did. I love her too much. She should know that.
Maybe she's ashamed. Maybe she feels guilty, about how she treated me, or about being with another man. She is a very moral person. Normally. It's a good thing. It's one of her great qualities. Sometimes, she can get a bit mixed up though. She can be a bit rigid, when she gets an idea fixed in her mind. She gets the wrong end of the stick. She thinks she's doing the right thing - she likes to do the right thing – she gets it into her head that something is the right thing to do and nothing can sway her, even if she's wrong. She doesn't know how to admit that sometimes she is wrong.
If she would just admit that it was a mistake to throw me over like she did, that she treated me wrongly and she never should have forced me to leave. If she could see that, I'd be happy. I'd take her back. She knows it was a mistake. She's obviously not happy. She looks tired, the last few times I've seen her. Maybe work is getting too much. She keeps changing little things, as if that could solve some of her problems. She's changed her hair. She's got a new jacket, a few new clothes. She's started drinking those new coffees they're advertising outside the café. She had a new colour of nail varnish on last week. All these little things, but she's never going to be happy while she's still ignoring the big change that she needs to make.
We're only human. We all make mistakes. I've made mistakes. I admit it. It's good to admit your mistakes. Then we can move on and put it right.
Like today, I'm going to put things right.
…
Gill Murray woke at four-thirty that morning, with a clear impression of all the work she had to do that day. There was a lot on. Not a big rush case where they were racing to gather evidence and secure statements and finish interviews before the PACE clock ran out on them, but there were a number of cases at various stages that her team were handling at the moment. It meant a lot of co-ordination, details to chase up, things to check and sign-off, and the judicial application of pressure to anyone who might consider slacking. Gill had always planned to be in early this morning, though maybe not quite as early as this. However, now she was awake, she was keen to get going and an extra half an hour would probably help her day run more smoothly.
Things started going wrong shortly after. First, she couldn't find her phone. She patted her pocket automatically as she opened the front door. No phone. She didn't recall picking it up but she usually did so on auto-pilot. Sighing, Gill dumped her bag, nudged the door to, and went on the hunt. Not on the kitchen worktops, or the table, or the coffee table. Not on any of the downstairs windowsills or fallen out on the stairs. Not on the bedside table or anywhere in the bedroom. She got down on her knees and peered under the bed. In despair, she even checked the bathroom. She grabbed the house phone that sat on the bedside cabinet and dialled her own number but, although she ran round the whole house listening hard, she couldn't even hear a vibration.
'Bugger it!' she said out loud. Maybe she had left it at work. Gill scooped up her bag again, stomped out of the house, and slammed into the car.
The car wouldn't start.
Gill turned the key in the ignition again and again and got nothing. She swore loudly and at length. Time was passing. Already, her precious half hour had evaporated. If she had to hang around for the breakdown company to come out, she would be positively late. Sighing dramatically, Gill stalked back into the house, leaving the door wide open. She trotted upstairs, poked her head into Sammy's room, still black as the pit, and snatched his car keys from beside the bed.
'Sammy, I'm taking your car. Mine's broke. I'll sort it out when I get to work. I'll call you.'
The hump of duvet that signified her son merely groaned. Gill didn't have time for more. She shot out the house again and finally, having wrestled with the seat and the mirrors and the blare of the CD player, finally, made it on her way. Only coming up to five-thirty, she noticed with a glance at the clock. She should still make it in before six, plenty of time before the rush of the day.
.
Gill had expected to be the first person in so she was surprised to see the door to the MIT office open and a light on. She was even more surprised when she reached the office and saw who it was.
'Janet. What are you doing here?'
Janet Scott looked up from her desk where she was fishing about in her handbag. She frowned.
'I got your text. It's a bit bloody early, isn't it? Is something wrong?'
'What text?' Gill stared.
'Your text, saying to come in for six o'clock. What's up?'
'I never sent you a text.' Gill rolled her eyes heavenward. 'I've lost my phone. Some bugger must have found it and thought it was clever to send stupid messages to people.' She sighed dramatically.
'That's a bit odd.' Janet's face creased as she tried to work it out. 'I mean, that's a bit of an odd message for some random person to send to me.'
'Ugh.' Gill shook her head and headed towards her own office. 'I don't know It was probably Kevin. Are you fixing a brew?'
'Yeah, well I might as well stay, seeing I'm here now.'
'Thanks cock,' Gill called over her shoulder. 'No sugar in mine.'
She smirked, knowing without looking that Janet would be pulling a face at her back.
Gill settled herself in her chair and dedicated herself to checking through her emails first. It was a good fifteen minutes later, finishing reading a particularly interesting message from the pathologist that she discovered that Janet had never appeared with her tea and that there were voices coming from the main office. Strained voices. And, now that she was paying attention, she realised that they had been going for some time. She had been too wrapped up in her report to remember that there was no-one about at this time of day, or to notice the tension in the sound. That tension was building rapidly, she thought; even as she strode towards the door she heard Janet's voice rise to a shout.
'What the hell on earth?' Gill began then she stopped dead. 'Andy! What d'you think you're doing?' Andy Roper, her erstwhile Detective Sergeant, had a grip on Janet's arm. His head snapped round to Gill and he positively snarled.
'What's she doing here? She's not supposed to be here.'
'He's leaving.'
'Oi mush. This is my office.'
'I'm not going anywhere Janet until you listen to me.'
Gill could see his knuckles were white, he was holding Janet so tight. She was visibly straining not to wince but her voice was getting shaky.
'I've told you, Andy. There's nothing more to say. It won't do either of us any good if you talk from now till Christmas.'
'Andy, I think you need to calm down.' Gill chipped in softly, sidling closer.
'Shut up!' He wheeled on her. 'Shut up you stuck up, sanctimonious bitch!'
Gill didn't blink. He turned back to Janet again.
'You need to learn that you can't go on, treating people like, like they're beneath the dirt on your shoes Janet.'
'I... I didn't...'
'I thought I could talk to you. I thought you'd understand.' He touched her face with his free hand and Janet flinched away.
'But I've been a fool.' His voice went hard and hoarse.
'There's things I should have done a long time ago.'
Gill's blood ran cold.
'Andy. No.' She made her voice as calm and authoritative as possible. He stopped, looked down, sighed.
Gill felt a tiny thrill as she saw him release Janet's arm. We've got him.
'You always have to run everything, don't you?' He said softly. 'And ruin it.'
He turned and in a moment was on her, grabbing her neck between his hands, pushing her back against the slippery glass of the office windows, straining her upwards. Muttering all the while, a stream of bile.
Gill fought. She kicked out and grabbed at his hands, dug her nails deep into the skin.
'Andy stop it!' Janet pulled at him, tried to break his grip as well, but even the two of them weren't having enough of an effect to stop Gill steadily turning purple.
Janet turned away and snatched up the nearest phone, madly dialling the uniforms downstairs.
'What the...?' A new voice broke onto the scene.
Before Janet had even taken it in, someone had dived past her, yanked at the nearest desk lamp and cracked it fiercely into the side of Andy's head. He staggered, automatically putting his hands up to the sharp cut that was already starting to stream blood down his face. In another moment, he found himself pushed face first against the same windows, his arms pinned behind him.
'Janet. Handcuffs.'
Janet responded on auto-pilot, digging her handcuffs out of her handbag. When the cuffs were safely on, she looked round, more than a little in shock.
Gill was hunched over on the floor, wheezing heavily, but at least still breathing. Rachel was holding Andy immobilised whilst trying to look at Gill. Distantly, she could the drum of copper's boots thundering up the stairs.
'Rach?' Janet couldn't stop staring.
'Is she ok?' Rachel still had her eyes on Gill. Janet hurriedly knelt down and helped Gill to lift her head.
'I'll live.' It was barely a croak. Red streaks stood out lividly around her neck. Janet had matching ones on her arm. Rachel nodded, she knew how it felt.
'Nice one kid,' Gill croaked again, with a vague gesture to the litter of two desk tops that Rachel had managed to strew across the floor in the rescue process. Rachel smiled and let her shoulders relax with relief. If Godzilla could moan about her messiness, she was going to be ok.
As uniform streamed in, looking generally stunned, Janet started the explanations. Rachel remembered she had to formally arrest Andy and did so with bitter delight. Gill slowly got to her feet.
'Check his pockets,' she gasped. 'I bet you'll find my phone.'
When the most of them had gone, Janet started trying to put the office to rights. Gill leaned against a desk, waiting for the duty medic to come and take a look at her.
'I never expected that,' Janet said quietly. 'I never expected that in a million years.'
She paused and looked up at Gill who nodded significantly.
'People don't.'