"Doesn't have to be male!"
"That is totally unacceptable! Julie Dodson! The stories I could tell about you!"
October 2014, Gill's Retirement
It's a good night, Julie decides, as she downs her fifth shot - Mary having challenged her, and she's never one to refuse a challenge; especially when it involves alcohol.
"What are these called again?" she asks.
"Red-headed sluts. Thought it was appropriate."
Julie gives a sharp glance at the other woman, but seeing how Mary struggled to get the last word out clearly, decides to let it slip. After five each, Julie can still speak coherently, so she reckons she's a good way to winning this one.
Rule one: Never challenge Julie Dodson to shots.
She's dead right in that assumption. Mary slides off the bar stool, muttering something about the ladies, and Julie eyes her empty glasses meditatively, then casts around the room. It is still crammed, but it doesn't take long for her to spot Gill, arms in the air, gyrating to the music along with Chris, Lee and a somewhat resigned looking Mitch. Julie moves through the crowd with ease and slides a hand around her friend's slender waist, bends her mouth to Gill's ear and positively purrs:
"So just what stories were you intending to tell, Slap?" A moment too late, she curses herself for not giving Gill more warning, but clearly she knows the feel of Julie's body, as she doesn't jump or jerk away from the unexpected touch; rather, not missing a beat,
"Any one of a thousand, you mad cow!" The smaller woman turns in to face her, sloppily laying a wrist on her shoulder. "How about that New Year's do when we'd just finished training? Or your thirtieth? Or my hen night? Not to mention the time you danced on that table over there, in this very pub! Then there was that time you..."
"Alright, alright!" Julie laughs and cuts her off midflow. "I'm sorry I asked."
"But not sorry you cast aspersions on my good character! In front of my team as well. Totally unacceptable, madam!"
"Your good character my arse! As I recall, you were right there with me on that table..."
"Only because you fed me glass after glass of whiskey and then hauled me up on it..." Gill is giggling like a schoolgirl at the memory.
"...and at least I have never danced topless singing 'I am 16...'"
"Keep your voice down!" Gill hisses. "That was a once off, and you two promised to not say anything!" She struggles to speak now, laughing so hard. "You're never going to let me forget it, are you?"
"Nope. And they're not your team anymore, for that matter! No more reputation to maintain, Gill." It is lightly said, but brings a pause to the laughter.
With a swift change, Gill's voice is quieter. "No, I suppose not." A flicker of...what, sadness? No, more pensive than that - but the expression is gone from her face before Julie can define it, and Gill is looking every bit the (retired) Chief Inspector again. "But I'm damned if you're going to tarnish their memory of me this quickly!" Gill adds, before returning to her giggles.
"No love, you can do that all by yourself, quite capably. On that note, s'my round, come on." and she pulls the still-chuckling Gill - with no resistance - towards the bar.
By three am, the room has cleared considerably. Rachel has just left with Will Pemberton; Mitch is making his excuses - Pete and Lee are long gone. Chris, instantly noticeable in his flowery shirt, and a couple of lads are propping up the bar, and the rest of the team are getting into a cab, steering a severely unsteady Mary in with them. Janet and Gill are collapsed in a corner, in companionable silence, when Julie arrives over with 'one for the road'.
"Thanks Ma...Julie." Janet eyes the scotch with uncertainty, but seems to decide that she has drunk enough already that one more cannot hurt.
"Ta, Slap." Stirring from her reverie, Gill attempts to sit up, and grins at her benefactor.
"How're you getting home, Janet?" Julie, ever practical.
"Chris and the others and I have a taxi booked for, crap, five minutes time." She turns to her friend. "What about you, Gill? Do you want to come with us?"
"Aww, look at this, I'm not even your boss anymore and you're still looking out for me. No, ta, I'll get a lift home with this mad bint." She nods lazily towards Julie.
"You will, will you?" Mock resignation and a twinkling eye. "How d'you know I don't have plans?"
"Reckon you'll just have to cancel, if you do." Gill looks smug. "It's my night out, my party, and I get to call the shots for once."
"As if there's ever a time when you don't call the shots!" She turns to Janet. "It's fine. I'll see she gets home safe, with no new performances to add to her record."
"Oi!"
"Well, we do have to keep your reputation intact, don't we?" She's chuckling, and Janet is trying her hardest to look mature and responsible, and Gill gives in.
"Next time it'll be Bohemian Rhapsody!"
"Jesus Christ!" splutters Janet. "You don't do anything easy, do you, Gill? We don't want you being arrested for disturbing the peace!"
They're still laughing when Chris calls over that the taxi is there. Drunk Gill is overly affectionate, hugging everyone and swearing that she'll be checking up on them, thanking them for the party. Finally, Janet has to disentangle herself from her third hug, because the driver has appeared on the threshold, looking impatient.
"See you soon Gill, Ma'am."
They follow Janet and the lads out and wave the taxi off.
"Come on, Slap, let's get back inside. Our cab'll be another ten minutes." Julie turns to usher Gill out of the cold, and is stopped in her tracks by the expression she sees on the other woman's face.
"Kiss me."
Julie's eyes open as wide as they can go.
"You're drunk. Come on, back inside." She lays a hand on Gill's elbow, but meets resistance when she moves towards the door.
"Kiss me."
Gill's hand slides onto Julie's waist; her eyes are a little glazed but they focus on Julie's lips with a hunger that speaks volumes.
She could kiss her. It would be so easy; to sweep her off her feet, like the romantic resolution of some old movie from years ago - lips against lips, fierce heat meeting as tongues move together.
She could kiss her. It would be the simplest thing in the world to let go of the passion she has held so deeply she even forgets she has it, sometimes. She could sweep her thumbs over those beautiful cheekbones, smooth the flyaway hair back behind her ears, move her hands down over Gill's shoulders to her waist, holding her tight in a warm embrace.
She could kiss her. But then the dam would burst and whether she could stop... Now that was the real question.
"Kiss me."
Gill is insistent, eyes clearing. There is no drunken petulance, such as Julie has heard before at times like this. There have been many occasions when Gill's flirtation has provided evidence for Julie's earlier comment on the necessity of men.
She could kiss her. But it would be taking advantage. And Julie promised herself, years ago, that she would not take advantage of Gill's drunken advances anymore, no matter the fact that it was like coming cold turkey off heroin to live up to that promise.
She kisses Gill, chastely, on the forehead. Softly. Gently. Smells her conditioner, mingled with her scent. Feels the pressure of the other woman's hand come to bear on her shoulder, as she bows her head under Julie's chin and rests upon her collarbone. Somehow her own arms are loosely encircling the thin body in front of her, and for just a moment, she lays her cheek on Gill's head. She's not sure, but she thinks she hears a muttered 'love you' spoken into her constricted chest.
"Come on, you mad cow, you'll catch your death. And if you don't, I will. Inside." This time, Gill allows herself to be led, and seated at the table nearest the door, while Julie makes a show of getting their coats.
She gives Gill's address to the taxi, when it arrives. It's a black cab, and she pulls the window partition shut. For a while, they silently watch the city lights move past in a blur, before Gill speaks, clearly, quietly.
"I meant it, you know."
"Meant what?" Julie's mind has been drifting.
"What I said. I still mean it."
Julie meets her eyes, and sees again that pensive, longing expression, clearer now. "Gill..." She sighs. There is no way she can explain this, and certainly not while they're both pissed. "I can't. I just...can't." Her voice aches as she says it, and if she can hear that, Gill definitely can. She tries to lighten the tone. "Anyway, what about your reputation?"
"Bugger my reputation. Anyway, I'm out now. In more ways than one." She starts to giggle. "It's your own fault, you know."
"It was just a laugh!" Julie begins to protest, but Gill holds a hand up to stop her.
"Just a laugh that was based on years and years, good God woman, how many years have we known each other? Thirty-five?"
"Thirty-seven," corrects Julie, but Gill has moved on.
"The night of Sammy's engagement, I got utterly wankered."
"I remember."
"Bollocks! You weren't there."
"I only turned up after Janet and Rachel had come back downstairs. I did stick my head round the door, but you were zonked. Didn't stay long." She is lying, of course, but will never tell Gill that she moved her unconscious form into the recovery position in the bed, replaced the gin bottle with a pint of water, and then sat and kept vigil until well after the party ended; only leaving as the dawn broke. Instead, she says, by way of explanation, "Dave."
"Oh. Well. Anyway. Before I got to that stage, I thought of all the things I hadn't done. And I thought, 'Gill Murray, what are you waiting for?' So I decided about my retirement. And I decided that I was going to do all the things I've put off, because of work, and my bloody reputation. And you..."
"Yes?"
"Well, you feature pretty high on that list."
"That's a nice way of seducing someone. Where'd they teach you that, Canal Street?" She's laughing now, she can't help it. Gill does not look impressed.
"You know bloody well what I mean. And anyway, why d'you say 'can't'? Last I checked, you're completely out, completely single, and it's not like..."
"Like what?"
"It's not like we don't work well together." She looks triumphant, as if this has settled the matter.
"Yes, but Slap..." Julie leans forward, elbows on knees, head in hands, every muscle as tight as during a major investigation.
"I'm calling the shots tonight, remember?"
"That's just the problem. Tonight. You're hammered. I've had more than is good for me. And tomorrow, I've got to go back to work, and you've got...your garden, or your knitting or whatever..." Gill aims a sharp dig with a foot divested of its high heel. "And that's it. That's the problem. I can't. We did that before, remember? And I'm not going through that again." Gill starts to laugh, and Julie has the urge to hit her. "What's so bloody funny?"
"You think I'm talking about a one night only, or being fuck buddies again, don't you?"
"Well actually, I think you're drunk and hadn't even got that far, but yes, I suppose that was what I thought you had in mind. Though I'm beginning to wonder if you're in your right mind at all."
"Daft bitch. I gave up so much for this life, and, y'know, when it was nearly… Well, I made up my mind. What I mean is, you and me, we... We work well together. Not work, I mean work... You know, as a team, as a pair...as us. God, would you listen to me, twittering like a bloody teenager! I'm not talking about friends with benefits, Julie bloody Dodson. I'm saying I think we should...well, at least try."
It is only now that the penny drops for Julie.
"Oh...!" She relaxes back into her seat, muscles unclenching.
"So if you say you bloody well can't, one more damn time, I'm going to have to..."
"What?" She smirks over at Gill. "Arrest me? Can't do that anymore, Slap."
Gill laughs sardonically. "No more I can, but I'm sure I could think of something."
"Well don't worry, you don't need to. If you're certain, that is."
"Of course I'm bloody fucking well certain, you mad cow!"
Two minutes later, Julie has to ask the taxi driver to pull over, and Gill is violently sick at the side of the road. Julie rubs her back and hands her a tissue when she's done, reassuring the less-than-amused driver that Gill will now be fine for the last five minutes up to the house. She hopes to God she's right.
It is by no means the first time that Julie has assisted Gill out of a taxi, practically carried her up to the front door, let them in with the spare key that she keeps on her own keyring, and deposited Gill on the sofa. But it feels different this time. She knows her way round the sitting room and into the kitchen, even in the half light with only one lamp on, and within a minute has the kettle on and mugs ready. Somehow, she has sobered up quite considerably. Timing is a strange thing, she thinks.
Thirty-seven years ago, almost to the week, she first met Gill during their training at Bruche. And now, here they are, after Gill's retirement. Funny how things work out.