Oh What a Circus
Disclaimer: New tricks belongs to the bbc, but it's nice to share.
This story popped into my head while watching 'big topped'
Sandra sat staring at the television, she didn't have a clue what was on but she couldn't stand the sound of the driving rain against the window, her mind was running at a million miles an hour. The revelations of the last few days had shaken her to the core. She sat looking at the photograph of her father, she usually kept it behind her warrant card, it had been her inspiration since she was fourteen, she had strived to be just like him, now that image was shattered. She had faced down Jack at the hospital, told him that he was wrong, that her precious Daddy couldn't have possibly killed anyone, but in her heart she knew that Jack wouldn't be mistaken over anything as serious as this. But that wasn't the thing which had ripped her world to shreds. He had killed himself. That fact above all others was the one that hurt her most of all. She had been so angry when he died, she had turned her anger and aggression outward, turned it on her Mum, and on her classmates, the unfairness of the situation driving her to push everybody away. Now she knew he had chosen to leave her, had decided to abandon her and her Mother instead of facing an inquiry.
She refilled her glass, she liked a glass of wine after work, but she was now on her third. She knew getting drunk wouldn't help but at the moment she didn't have a better idea. She could do with talking to a friend, but after listing her non-ucos related friends on the finger of one finger, she dismissed that idea. She just wanted to stop feeling the hurt, everybody had lied to her, all her life. She understood why her Mum had lied and she also understood why Jack had kept the truth from her, but it didn't make it any easier, she could understand them wanting to protect her when she was fourteen, but they had had thirty years to tell her the truth.
She felt the tears start to trail down her face again, the picture in her hand bringing back memories she had once treasured, now she didn't know where the truth ended and the lie began.
A sudden knock at the door made her jump, she cursed and stood a little unsteadily. If it was Jack, she didn't think she could face him right now, and if it was Gerry or Brian, she really could do without their attempts at making peace or them trying to cheer her up. She just wanted to be alone.
She unlocked the door and opened it, ready to put a brave face on for her 'boys' but the figure standing in the rain made her stop in her tracks.
"Sir. What can I do for you?" She hadn't expected her boss to be standing on her doorstep. She quickly wiped her hand across her face, trying to erase any signs of her upset.
"I just needed to appologise. I let my personal life interfere with an investigation, and that's inexcusable. I'm... I'm sorry." She reguarded him, his face was pale and drawn, the collar of his beige rain coat was pulled up around his neck to try and keep the wind and rain at bay, but from the slight shuddering of his shoulders it wasn't doing a very good job, his hair was soaked and dishevelled, strands hanging down over his forehead. He cut a very forlorn figure, the term 'little boy lost' came to mind.
"That's alright sir, Thankyou." She stumbled. He smiled a shy smile.
"I'm sorry to disturb you. Good night." He turned to walk back out into the downpour.
"Do you want to come in for a bit, wait for this rain to ease." She offered, she really didn't know why, he really was the last person she wanted to see right now, but here she was inviting him in. He seemed to sense her conflict, he gave a little shake of his head.
"I think I've caused enough damage for one day." He almost whispered, he turned and started down the path, she called after him.
"Please! You'll be helping me out. I'm a quarter of the way through a bottle of white, if you don't come in and help me with it, I'll have to drink it all by myself, and then I'll have a terrible headache in the morning." He stopped and turned to face her.
"I would have thought I'd be the last person you'd want to share a bottle of wine with."
"I think right now, you're the only person I could share it with. Besides, it looks as though you need it as much as I do." She opened the door wider as an invitation. He looked as though he was thinking it over before walking back to her.
"Ok, but feel free to kick me out at any time." He smiled, only half joking. He stepped past her into the hall, she watched as he peeled the soaked coat off his shoulders, she realised why he had been shivering, he had no jacket underneath, just his dress shirt, the collar unbuttoned, she could see his tie poking out of his trouder pocket. His shirt was also soaked.
"You must be frozen." She muttered, hanging the sopping coat up to dry. He shrugged.
"I wasn't thinking when I left home, I just had to come and say sorry." He looked down at the floor. "I'll be fine, it'll soon dry."
"Come on, I think I have something." She showed him into the living room. "Sit down and make yourself comfortable, I wont be a minute." She disappeared from sight, then returned a few minutes later with an extra glass and a black t-shirt. She noticed that he really didn't look very comfortable, perched on the edge of the sofa looking as though he wanted to bolt for the door. " Here, a friend left this a few years ago, I sometimes wear it at night. It should fit." He raised his eyebrows, but unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and slipped it off over his head. She handed him the t-shirt and took his soaked shirt and arranged it on the radiator, when she turned back she couldn't help but start giggling, her 'friend' had been several inches shorter and slightly built, resulting in Deputy Assistant Commissioner Robert Strickland standing in her front room in a shirt which looked as though is had been sprayed on. He looked at her a slight grin on his face.
"Was your 'friend' a bit smaller than me by any chance?" He asked.
"Just a bit." She was openly laughing now.
"Well, if it's cheered you up a bit, it's worth looking a fool." He smiled. She poured him a glass of wine, still chuckling to herself.
"Fool wouldn't be the word I would have chosen." She quipped, sitting down on the sofa, curling her legs under her. He sat down opposite her. He took a sip of the wine, suddenly quiet. He looked down at his feet. "What's wrong?" She asked.
"I really am sorry for today. I had no idea that you didn't know about your Father, what I said was cruel and petty, and I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to hit me right now. I deserve it. I'm so sorry, please forgive me." He looked up at her, his eyes pleaded with her. She felt her eyes fill with tears again, sending wet trails down her cheeks. He looked as though he had been slapped, he started forward and knelt on the floor in front of her, taking her hands in his. "Please, don't cry. I'm sorry."
She squeezed his hands. "It's not you, and I'm glad I've found out about my Dad, it seems that I'm the only person who didn't know the truth, I just wish I had known earlier, I feel like a fraud, I've spent my life trying to be just like him only to find out that everything I thought I knew is a lie."
"It's not. The things you remember about your Dad still happened, they are still valid memories, the person you remember existed. Maybe he made a few mistakes, made some bad choices. God knows we're all guilty of that, but that doesn't mean his whole life was a lie. And anyway, you are the person you are, not because of him, but because it's who you are." The earnest look in his eyes made her heart swell.
"Thank you, it means a lot to hear that."
"I was still out or order, throwing personal insults at you like that. For the record, you were right. Christy has given me the boot, she got what she wanted." He sat on the sofa next to her, and refilled their glasses, emptying the bottle, Sandra reached down by the side of the chair and produced a second bottle, setting it on the table next to the first.
"I'm sorry, but she was a bitch. You deserve better." She told him. He snorted.
"According to her, I'm a boring, uptight, lost cause, with all the charisma of a potato. Sleeping with me was a necessary evil. Her very words." He drained his glass and refilled it. She took his hand.
"Like I said, she's a bitch. The way I see it, you had a lucky escape. You're much better than that." He laughed sarcastically.
"It's not like I have them queing at the door, I think it's going to be microwave meals for one from now on."
"Don't! You're only forty six, a year older than me. Don't let a bitch like that drive you down." He smiled.
"I thought I was supposed to be making you feel better."
"You have. I don't do wallowing." She raised her glass, "Here's to putting this in the past, and for better things to come."
"Better things." He agreed, raising his glass. They drained the glasses again, and emptied the second bottle.
"Did you drive?" She asked.
"I did, but I'm obviously not driving home. I'll have to get a taxi."
"Why don't you just stay here, the couch is actually pretty comfy, and I'm scared that if you go out in that shirt, people will think your turning tricks." He spluttered on his wine, Sandra started to laugh. He looked down at his attire, then started to laugh with her.
"It is a bit 'diet coke' I suppose."
"Da da da da dum." She sang, making Robert laugh even harder.
"I think I've had enough." He stated, putting the glass down, "Any more and I'll probably make a fool of myself."
Sandra disappeared, then reappeared with a blanket and pillow, she made up the couch as he rinsed out the glasses.
"There you go." She said, "Will you be ok, If you need anything, my room is the first on the left. The bathroom is at the end of the corridor. There is a new toothbrush in the cabinet. You go first." He nodded and took himself off to the bathroom, Sandra went to her bedroom and sat on her bed for a few moments, she was feeling a bit light headed and giddy. She heard the flush of the toilet, and the footsteps of her guest as he passed her door.
"Good night." He called.
"Night." She answered, before getting ready for bed and heading to the bathroom herself. When she had finished, she wandered down to her sitting room, she saw that Robert had already fallen asleep, his trousers and 'the' shirt folded neatly over the back of the chair, his shoes and socks underneath. Sandra stood and pondered the fates which had delivered him to her door this night, she had needed a friend to talk to, admittedly he wouldn't have been the first person she thought of, but he had turned out to be just what she had needed.
And here he was, asleep on her couch in his underwear. She dearly hoped none of her boys dropped in on her first thing, this could be difficult to explain. But as she dimmed the lights and made her way to bed, she wondered what tomorrow would bring.
Apart from a hangover.