A Dramatic Moment, part two Remembering that day, what struck her was that she had burst into tears, sobs that would not stop. All she could think was YES, you are what I need. You have always been what I need, from that first case, when your casual kindness embedded itself in my heart, when for all these years, you have been the reason I drag myself out of bed in the morning, knowing that I would see you. I have needed the back and forth sharing ideas, thoughts. Not feelings, except for that one time, when you came to my flat, when you seemed to need me. What I did not need was watching you fall in love with Helen, seeing you being hurt by her, over and over. Do you know that sometimes you are transparent, that I always knew when you had had sex with her? It would be on your face. Like a teen-age boy. What I didn't need was knowing that I could never fit into your world, be the countess to your earl. Not me, Barbara Havers, of Acton, working-class to the core, no education, no style, no knowledge of the kind of world you inhabit. I could be your sergeant, SIR, but nothing more. But there you were, saying you loved me, needed me. ME. And that your mother approved. She'd never been anything but kind to me, seeming to like me, but I was always sure it was as your friend and colleague. Certainly not as your girlfriend, and definitely not as your wife. And you were asking me, now, to be that wife, be a countess. How could I say yes? How could I not think that, if we did marry, the day would come, inevitably, when you would look at me and think what had you done? Wonder how you could get out of the marriage and maintain your honour. Because of course you would remain an honourable man. But I would know that you had come to regret the whole thing, marriage to a woman not suited for the nobility. Not suited for you. I knew that everyone at the Met would be sure I'd married you for your money and the title. Well, maybe not Winston. I always thought he suspected how I felt. And everyone would wonder what on earth had possessed you to marry the likes of me. I knew my worth, I knew that I was smart, and a good copper and not bad-looking once I stopped hiding in my clothes. That was something else you'd given me, some self-respect about my looks. But not like Helen or those other women you dated after she died. Not elegant. Not sophisticated. Not educated. Not your type. What on earth were you thinking, saying you loved me, asking me to marry you? Were you mad? I knew all that, I was sure of it, but…..but… I said YES. #