The bottle of whiskey was about half full and Lynley hoped that would be enough. He poured a generous finger then discarded decorum and filled his glass. For background music he had chosen Shostakovich. The hauntingly depressing Symphony #14 fitted his mood perfectly. He walked to his bookcase, selected Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment and settled into his favourite chair. He sipped his whiskey, opened his book and began to wallow.
Unlike his depression after Helen died, tonight was a deliberate bout of self-pity. He wanted to feel miserable because Barbara was out on the town no doubt enjoying herself immensely. Tommy did not think he was envious of her pleasure; he wanted her to be happy. He was not angry with her for wanting to have fun, to connect with someone, even to love someone. He was angry that she had chosen to do it with someone other than him and he was even angrier with himself that he could not find the courage to tell her how he felt.
Three weeks ago things had been progressing smoothly and then along had come Sergeant Conroy on exchange from Manchester and Barbara had started to slip away from him. He had known since the Thompson case that he had fallen in love with her. He was not falling, he had fallen - past tense, and if he were truthful it had happened many years ago. He had loved Helen and it had been a good, sensible match. She had listened to him pour out his cares over the years but how could he ever have told her that their marriage had been a mistake? How could he tell her that he needed more than she was prepared to give? Maybe it was more than she could give. And how could he tell her that his socially inept, fiery-tempered sergeant who despised everything he stood for did give him what he needed. She pushed him, she challenged him and she supported him even when he was wrong. In the end he had not had to tell Helen, she had known and she had capitulated. They had both surrendered to the mundane duty expected of them knowing that it was their work, not their marriage, that sustained them. Tommy drank more of his whiskey and sank further into his book and his misery.
Less than three miles away Barbara was hoping her phone would ring with a terrible mass murder that required all hands on deck. Detective Sergeant Gavin Conroy was relatively attractive, very polite, considerate and even funny and he was endeavouring to engage in sparkling conversation. Barbara however found him boring. Despite their similar backgrounds he was not as suited to her as people may have thought, as she had thought. He was still locked into outdated views of class and privilege. The chip on his shoulder annoyed her. As she listened to him tell her about his upbringing and his officers in Manchester she saw how others had must have seen her. In fact many probably still did. She had an urge to ring and apologise to Tommy. He had put up with this for ten years. No wonder he argued with me.
She was about to find an excuse to leave when Gavin mimicked Tommy then mocked his accent, his mannerisms and the way he 'played' at being a policeman. Barbara snapped. She told Gavin in no uncertain terms what she thought of his attitude. His retort stung her, "so you've sold out then Barbara? Seeing you together I didn't think the rumours about you two were true but you're a fool woman, giving up your life for a broken man who will never love you."
Barbara had stormed from the pub and blindly wandered the streets. Is that what I've done? Given up my life for Tommy? There had been nothing to give up. Tommy had given her a reason to live. She had told him that once and he had understood. He had agreed. He had told her he felt the same way. It was the closest she had ever come to telling him she loved him and the way he had looked at her she had known he loved her. It might not be a romantic love but she could live without that. She had needed someone in her life to need her; someone to whom her existence mattered and she had needed someone she could love. Unlikely as it was, Tommy Lynley, the Detective Inspector by day and Eighth Earl of Asherton by night, was that person and she would not betray what they shared, not for sex and not even for love. She could never love anyone the way she loved Tommy.
When his bell rang Tommy barely heard it. He was engrossed in his book and had turned up the music to deafening levels. He paused his CD and the bell rang again. Cursing he stood and walked to the door. He glanced at his watch. It was only seven-thirty. He was dressed in an old grey tee-shirt and navy sleep pants. He glanced down but it was respectable enough to answer his door.
"Havers! What the hell are you doing here?"
She knew instantly it had been a mistake. She could see he was angry. She had hoped he would invite her in but what would she say? I was out on a date and realised I would never love anyone but you? "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you." She turned and started to walk away.
"No! Wait! Come in Barbara." She turned. "Please. I just wasn't expecting you but I am happy to see you."
This time his tone was soft and friendly and he was smiling at her in that way that would have her walk across broken glass for him. She walked past him and into his hall. Tommy took her coat and ushered her into his study. She noticed the whiskey bottle and the book on his chair and sighed. He was wallowing again. It puzzled her but perhaps it was some sort of anniversary date of an event with Helen that she knew nothing about.
"Drink?" he asked.
"No thanks."
Tommy indicated that she should sit. "I won't be a minute. I'll just slip some jeans on."
"No don't!" she said not wanting to disturb him. "I didn't mean to interrupt you."
"You said that. What's wrong Barbara?"
She shook her head. "Nothing really. I just wanted to apologise for being an ignorant, working class snob all these years. I must have been insufferable at times and yet you put up with me. I have no idea why but I wanted you to know that I appreciate it and I will never tease you about being a ponce again."
Tommy had to sit down. Her words were the last thing he had expected to hear. "Really? Don't make promises you can't keep Barbara."
A shy grin began to creep from the corners of her mouth. "Conroy is so bitter and twisted about class and life and I saw myself from ten years ago. I had to come and apologise."
Tommy was touched and he had an urge to pull her to him and never let her go. "I deserved a lot of it. I can be arrogant and insufferable at times but we're good together Barbara. We make a good team so don't ever stop being who you are. Promise?"
She bit her lip and held his gaze. "Promise."
"So what about your date?"
"It was a disaster! He's nice enough I guess but we don't share the same values. I'm just annoyed I wasted forty-five pounds on him."
Tommy laughed gently so as not to offend her. "So you paid for dinner?"
"We never made it to dinner but I bought the movie tickets. At the Lounge at the Odeon no less!" He had no idea what she was talking about and it obviously showed on his face. "Comfortable reclining seats and they bring food and alcohol to you but Gavin thought it sounded pretentious." She thought Tommy would find it tacky.
Tommy had not been to the cinema for years. "What time's the movie start?"
"Eight forty-five why?"
"I'll get changed. We can still make it if you want to go." She nodded and he thought he saw her furiously blinking a single tear away. "Call a cab. I'll only be a couple of minutes."
As he pulled on his jeans and a jumper he smiled to himself. She had come to him and now they were going on a date. She had chosen him after all, even if she did not realise it, and even if she only thought of him as her best friend. It did not matter if he was only her friend tonight. He would be advised to keep it that way and not get carried away but he had hope now that one day he could tell her how he felt.
He wondered why she was nervous as they took their seats. He had not even asked her what movie they were going to see but he really did not care. Contrary to her fear he found the concept of reclining chairs and table service a very civilised way to watch a movie. "If I'd known cinemas were like this I'd come more often," he said as he leant over to where she was adjusting her seat.
"It's not too pretentious then?"
"No of course not. Now seeing you paid for the seats I'll buy the food." Tommy ordered and as the opening trailers for upcoming films finished their beers and meals were served. He had made sure to order a bowl of hot chips to share.
The film was the latest Bond adventure and they both were caught up in the action. They adjusted their armchairs to lie back and enjoy. Barbara had her arm stretched along the armrest and Tommy lay his next to it, not quite touching. When the movie started he reached over and gave her hand a quick, reassuring squeeze. Although he wanted to he did not dare to hold her hand. Instead he imagined sitting here with their fingers entwined.
Barbara relaxed as soon as Tommy ordered. He had seemed perfectly happy and he had instinctively understood that he should not offer to pay for the seats. She glanced across a few times and he was genuinely enjoying the movie. Maybe we could do this more often?
After dinner Tommy suggested a drink. They walked back towards Marble Arch and found a quiet pub. Three pints later after they had critiqued the film and the merits or otherwise of the actors they left the pub. Tommy insisted on escorting her home and unusually Barbara did not object.
He did not ask the cab to wait and Barbara asked him in for a drink thinking that it should have felt strange. It seemed normal; a natural extension of an evening she did not want to end. Tommy's friendship was all she needed in life and tonight they had not argued or been so tired from a case that they just wanted to sleep and it had been good.
Tommy noticed immediately that her flat was tidy. He was briefly jealous knowing that she had probably tidied it hoping to bring Conroy back after the movie. He tried not to let the resentment rise and in doing so remembered he was standing here and it had been him Barbara had chosen. When she passed him his whiskey, the brand she knew he preferred, the brand she had bought especially for times like this when he was visiting, he gave her a disproportionately huge smile.
They sat and chatted more about the movie until Tommy thought it was time to go. They had sat close on her sofa and if he stayed longer he would simply have to kiss her. "Thank you for a wonderful evening Barbara," he said at her door before she opened it.
She felt her face redden with embarrassment, not from his words but from her thoughts. She would never do anything to undermine their friendship, especially after tonight and the gallant way he had suggested they watch the movie. He had understood her and if anything she loved him more for it. "I think it is the other way around Sir. Thank you for saving me."
Tommy understood that her last words were referring to far more than tonight. "No, you rescued me. I enjoyed tonight Barbara, I really did. We should do it again." He bent down and kissed her lightly on her cheek. Their eyes briefly met and in that unguarded moment he saw his own feelings reflected in hers; the same love, desire and fear. "I should go." But I don't want to!
"Probably," she said in a low voice. But I don't want you too!
His face was still close to hers. It was an unnatural position but he was unable to pull away yet unwilling to risk everything by kissing her. He moved back and looked into her eyes again. That look was still there. "Barbara?"
"Yes Tommy." His heart leapt at the sound of his name. She had been the one to break down the last barrier. When her hand touched his he jumped but quickly clasped it. He kissed her tenderly She closed the door and they kissed again allowing a decade of unspoken feelings to flow.
Tommy paused to breathe and to check Barbara was comfortable. Her green eyes were shining and he knew he would never need to play Shostakovich again."Maybe we should both thank Gavin."