Detective Sergeant James Hathaway loathes office holiday parties, even when they're held at the Trout. He's expected to mingle and chat with the very same group of people he generally is happy to leave behind at the end of each workday. The other DSs and the DCs tend to avoid conversing casually with him the rest of the year, and none of them seem inclined to start talking to him now. If he chats up senior officers, he'll look as though he's trying to curry favor. As a result, he has nothing better to do than visit the bar and nurse a grudge.
He's required to attend this "optional" gathering, and required to stay at least until the Chief Constable gives his annual holiday address, intended to cheer the troops and raise spirits. But the last few years, it has had the opposite effect as he always ends on the same note: do more next year with less budget. So Hathaway stands sipping his wine and waiting for time to pass.
He gazes longingly at the door. The Chief Constable hasn't even arrived yet, let alone started his speech. And then the door opens and a familiar, petite woman enters, checking around the room. Doctor Laura Hobson. Her face breaks into a smile when she sees him standing alone.
"James! You're looking festive," she greets him with a buss on his cheek.
He glances down at his necktie, black with scattered red-and-white candy canes all over it. "It's the most I could manage. You look nice."
She smiles at his compliment. She's wearing a soft knit pullover in Christmas red, a sparkly snowflake pendant glinting against her skin below her neck. "Thank you, you just made it worth my time to come over here."
He flashes a smile. At least she'll talk to him without implicitly treating him like an overprivileged, overeducated, over-ambitious prat.
"Where's your other half?"
"If you mean Inspector Lewis, he's talking shop with the Chief Super." He nods toward a far corner of the room, where Lewis and Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent are engaged in what looks like an intense discussion.
"Oh, I see." She seems disappointed.
"How about a drink, Doctor?" He waves his arm toward the bar. "My treat."
"Why, James, that would be wonderful. What is that you're having?"
"A Spanish red. Quite nice, if you like your wine fairly dry. Try it?" He tips his glass in her direction. She takes it from him, and sips a little.
"Ooh, yes, that's lovely." She leads the way to the bar, and Hathaway orders two more glasses, draining the one he already has. She watches him with a bit of concern. "You're not going overboard, are you James?"
He snorts a little. "Just trying to make it through the speech so I can leave." He studies her more closely. "You're not required to be here, why torture yourself by coming?"
She frowns a little. "Well, I had hoped for a little casual conversation with Robbie, but it looks like that may not be in the cards."
Hathaway takes a deep breath. He is actually on his third glass of wine, and his judgment—and his sour mood—might be a teensy bit affected by that. And with his usual self-restraint and good manners so handicapped, he finds himself inclined to talk to Laura about something that has been bothering him for some time.
"You know, Laura, you've given him plenty of time to decide what he wants to do."
Her eyes widen at his use of her first name. "What exactly do you mean?"
"Lewis. It's clear you carry a torch for him. Even he has to be able to see that. You get this sort of . . . glow when you're talking to him, you walk arm-in-arm with him, stand close to him, all that."
"And?"
"And he doesn't respond. Doesn't reciprocate. Either he notices what you're doing and is ignoring it, or he doesn't notice at all, which means he's not looking for that from you. If he had the slightest interest, Laura, he'd have said something, done something, by now. He's had, what, five years since he's been back here?"
She jerks her head away, and he can tell she's fighting tears. "Aw, look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be harsh. It's only that I think you need a reality check." He takes her chin and turns her face to him. "You're wasted on him, Laura. You're too good a woman to be pining after a man who is only interested in your friendship."
He's feeling rather warm now, and it's not just the wine. He's been thinking about how Lewis seems to take it for granted that his long-time friend should stay that way, and that she must feel a little hurt every time the older man fails to respond to her touch. It's not right that she gets treated so casually, and the injustice of it fuels him.
She's looking at him curiously. "Has he talked to you about this?"
"No, he never mentions you unless it's in connection with a case, or if I prompt him."
"I see." Her face falls.
"Hey, c'mon." He takes her by the hand and nods his head toward the end of the room where the hired piano-player is seamlessly playing one Christmas song after another and a sort of dance floor has been cleared. A few couples are bobbing away in time to the music. "Can you dance to this?"
It takes her a moment to shift focus. Then a small smile tickles her lips. "Yes, I think I can manage. I didn't know you dance."
He grins. "I prefer that people don't know. But it's my fault you need cheering up, so I'm willing to give a little."
This draws a real smile, and soon they are stepping lightly to Let It Snow. At one point, Laura catches Lewis's eye and he breaks off his conversation with Innocent long enough to wave a greeting. Then he returns to listening to the Chief Super.
Setting her mouth in a line, Laura tugs Hathaway closer as the music slows to What Child Is This? "Maybe you're right, James. But if I give up on him, where does that leave me? I've got no one else, have I?"
"Laura, I don't mean to be harsh again, but right now you don't have him, either. And you've been totally focused on him, haven't you? Look around. There are plenty of handsome, intelligent, available policemen walking through your lab door every day."
She sighs. "But he's the one I've known for so long, I'm so comfortable with him. I can tell him anything."
"Can you, though?" Hathaway takes a deep breath. "Have you ever told him how you feel?"
She casts her eyes downward.
"See, Laura, I think you've constructed an artificial relationship between the two of you that simply does not exist. I mean, listen to yourself right now. These things you're telling me, these feelings . . . have you ever had a conversation like this with Robbie?"
She blows out her cheeks. "No, nothing like this." She looks up at him directly, without speaking. Piercingly. "No, James, not with him." She doesn't say the rest of her thought aloud. Why is it I can say this to you?
She tips her eyes back down and appears to focus on the dance steps. Her head is swirling, and not because of the wine.
Hathaway reflects on this. On how Lewis and Hobson juggle the bits of their conversations, tossing one-liners and would-be flirts at each other, along with friendly banter and unfinished sentences, winks and nods and raised eyebrows. They rarely have a serious discussion unless it concerns a case. In contrast, he and Laura are having this heart-to-heart at the very moment. He is the one she can talk to.
He squeezes her closer. Her body is warm and her hair smells faintly of cinnamon. Lewis is a bloody fool to pass this up.
Hathaway has always shunned the late-night, casual sex scene. Shunned the clingy, husband-seeking female students at Cambridge. Shunned the openly available, physically-fit, female trainees when he started with Thames Valley Police. Always hoped to find someone to whom he could bare his soul, not just his body.
And with a shudder, he realizes what he has. "Laura, I . . ." He whispers this into her ear.
She looks up sharply. "James, don't say anything. Not yet. I need to think." She's breathing hard, he notices with a shiver when he looks down at her.
"Take your time, okay?" He buries his lips in her hair and almost imperceptibly kisses her. "Take all the time you need."
When the song comes to an end and the pianist starts something more upbeat, Laura pulls him off the dance floor. "I'd like another glass of wine, alright?" She avoids his eyes.
"Sure, I'll be right back." Being third in line, he has to wait a while at the bar, and he's jolted when he hears a familiar voice at his side.
"You looked like you were getting mighty cozy with Doctor Hobson, there, Sergeant. Is there something I should know about?"
Hathaway swallows. "Erm, not unless you're planning on fighting me for the honor of her attentions, Sir."
The inspector grins. "Nah, you can have her." When Hathaway doesn't answer, Lewis thinks more closely about what he's said.
"So . . . you'd fight for her attention? I never thought you cared much for her, personally, like." Lewis is looking across the room at Laura, studying her. Then he turns his gaze to his sergeant, who is concentrating very hard on giving the landlord the correct change. Lewis is a very good detective. He watches, without saying anything, the actions of his colleague. The way Hathaway is avoiding eye contact with Lewis. The fact that he is carrying two glasses of wine. The flush of his cheeks.
"Oh, God, James. You're serious." His voice is very quiet.
Hathaway won't look at him. "She's waiting for me." And he hurries away, leaving Lewis standing at the bar, open-mouthed.
Laura is staring at the lights on the pine garland strung around the room without focusing on them. She always assumed that eventually she and Robbie would be together. But James is right. If Robbie had the slightest interest, she wouldn't still be waiting for a sign of it. And now James. What was this feeling she had for him? She'd never noticed that before.
Or had she? Those times when she teased Robbie about him, had there in fact been something behind that?
She watches him approach with the wine. He's younger than she, but the difference in their ages is about the same as that between her and Lewis. And he acts much older than his age. Maybe that's why it's so easy for her to talk to him. Or maybe it's because she knows how he feels; for once she's with someone who doesn't leave her completely in the dark about whether he'd like to be more than friends with her.
Hathaway hands her the glass with a wry smile, and raises his eyebrows along with his glass. "To us?" He's tentative.
She smiles shyly. "Why not? I think I can get used to that idea. And if Robbie can't, well . . ." She flinches inwardly at the thought of hurting Lewis's feelings, but then reminds herself sternly that in all probability, he doesn't have any for her, at least not of that sort. She clinks James's glass and takes a sip. Her eyes are drawn to the ceiling beam above Hathaway's head. Her smile twists impishly, and he follows her gaze to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs over him.
He grins and sets his glass down on a nearby table. "You want to see if this stuff really works?"
She looks rueful. "It's never worked for me so far, and believe me, I've tried it on Robbie any number of times."
He pulls her into his arms. "Oh, Laura, you deserve better than that. Can you forget about him, d'you think?"
Her eyes lock onto his for a long moment, all frivolity gone. "Forget about who?" And with her free hand behind his head, pulling him down to her, she leans up and kisses him.
Her lips are warm and he lengthens the kiss, deepening it as he surrenders to his passion. He no longer cares who sees them. He can feel her heart pounding against his chest, like something that has been trapped for a long time and is now set free.
Lewis at last picks up his glass from the bar and turns to see where Hathaway went. He scowls when he doesn't see his tall sergeant's head above the rest. Then his eyes land on the couple snogging under the mistletoe near the dance floor and he feels his stomach make a sickening lurch.
"Well, now." Lewis starts. He hadn't heard Jean Innocent approach. She is watching him closely. "That's not the pairing I expected to see tonight." She glances toward the couple under the mistletoe and returns to studying Lewis.
"Nor I, Ma'am. Though maybe I should have done." He seems stunned. Then he looks at her directly.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am, I can't stay and wait for the Chief Constable. I don't care if that means you're going to discipline me. I need to be going now." His face is an emotionless mask. Before she can respond, he wheels and strides out of the pub. She looks after him sadly.
Laura at last breaks their kiss. With her back to the door, she is unaware that they have been seen. James, looking over her shoulder, sees Lewis's swift exit, and flinches when the older man slams the door behind him. Was that a tear glistening on his cheek? His eyes linger on the door a moment before he glances down at Laura and smiles.
"I could get used to that."
She purses her lips. "James, I . . ."
He has expected her hesitation. "Look, it's a huge change for you. If you want to think about this more, that's fine. You need to be certain this is what you want."
A slight frown crosses her brow. "It's not that, exactly. I love you, James. I never imagined this. But I also love Robbie, and I've decided I'm going to talk to him and make him explain himself. Tonight. I can't help thinking that he's so comfortable with our friendship he may not think he needs to say anything to me." She sighs. "And you're right, I've never told him how I feel. It's simply not fair to him. You know, it's like making him guess and then abandoning him when he gets it wrong."
She gives James a hopeful expression. "Is that alright?"
"What can I say, Laura? I love you, too, and the most important thing to me is that you're happy." He snorts at the irony. "Now I know why they call this a 'Hobson's choice,' eh?"
That makes her smile as she groans. "That's terrible, James." She casts a glance around the pub. "Now where did Robbie get to . . . ? There's Jean, so he's not still talking to her . . ."
Hathaway takes a deep breath. More than anything, he wants their relationship, whatever it becomes, to be based in honesty. "He, erm . . . left."
She looks at him quizzically. "Left? Don't you boys have to stay until after the CC's speech?"
He puts a hand on her shoulder and looks at the floor. "He saw us, Laura." Then he meets her eyes. "I could tell he was really upset. I hate to be telling you this, because I now think maybe he has feelings for you, after all."
She bites her lip, wrapping her arms around him. "Oh, James." Swallowing, she steadies herself and squares her jaw. "This isn't going to be straightforward or easy, is it?"
"Life can be messy. I think this is a classic example of that." He squeezes her tightly. "Do what you need to do, okay? I don't want to see him hurt, either. Only, I was convinced he had no romantic tendencies toward you at all. If I'm wrong, well . . . We have something now we didn't have before. I'll treasure that." He leans down and kisses her, briefly.
"Go talk to him. Explain why we did what we did. If he rises to the occasion, go for it. If he doesn't, well, you can decide what you want to do. You have an alternative now, right?" He smiles wryly.
Her eyes gleam. "You're wonderful, you know? Why didn't I see that before, hmm?" She kisses him twice, three times. "I promise I'll call you when I know what's happening." She kisses him one more time, and then turns, with one quick backward look, and walks steadily toward the door.
James turns so he doesn't have to see her go out.