A/N: This is the sequel to till Death Do us part. This is another joint effort between myself and Richard. if you do read this story, a review would always be appreciated. Part one this time is Richard's.
Part One
That broad time band exists on a sunny, cheerful August morning so that those starting their routines could rub the cobwebs of sleep out of their eyes and busy themselves ready for another working day. For John, his briskness and heartiness was a long-standing trial for the less lively George and Jo. Helen sprang cheerfully out of bed while Nikki clung to the disappearing remnants of comforting sleep and the corner of her duvet. Ric had been long accustomed to gambling on his ability that 'he would feel all right in the morning' and would somehow be ready on time while Connie was ruthlessly organized, everything being neatly in its place. In so many households spreading across the widths of the London suburbs and further afield towards different and distant counties, the early morning cup of tea or coffee provided that mixture of comfort or energy boost. These were places in England where the loathsomely disruptive twenty four hour work culture and working shift system hadn't distorted the working life so that in that segment of time, a nation awoke to the early morning newspaper and that period of silence where people clung onto that moment of peace before the mad rush starts. Inevitably, purposeful activity took over and the morning queue for the bus stop formed up while elsewhere, the rubber tyres made contact with the hard tarmac to take those gleaming cars to their appointed destinations.
Such was a normal morning for Connie as she eagerly drove her silver grey Jaguar to her reserved car parking space at St Mary's hospital, just like any other day. In her smart suit and high heels, she clicked her way across the car park, with that faint smile of self-assurance and wearing her high position in the hierarchy of power as snugly as the clothes that she wore. She passed through the foyer and graciously received the customary deference that was her due. She could feel that aura of accustomed feeling greet her and eyes turn in her direction. It might have been the discreet shortness of her skirt but then again, power and sexuality were not too dissimilarly related.
"I've been thinking, Connie. You were right to insist that I check my findings before going ahead with the operation."
"Why Mr. Curtis. I'm glad that you've learnt to apologise for your mistakes. I trust that you can see that infinite care and preparation is essential to the task in hand"
"I have learned my lessons well, Connie," He answered meekly.
As Connie swept by leaving a faint aroma of perfume in her wake, she reflected with satisfaction that Will Curtis was surprisingly gracious to her. She had only recently had yet another stand up argument with him when, as usual, his pride had made him defend the indefensible. Perhaps he was maturing and losing that brattish adolescence that he normally hid behind his aristocratic shield.
She smiled with satisfaction as she passed on to be greeted by Ric.
"A new week starts and so do new frontiers, Connie"
"You sound extremely positive for a Monday morning," came her silky response.
"Nothing to do with a big win coming up on the horses if that's what you're thinking of"
"You mean you didn't win anything on the bookies"
"I never even went there. That was the last thing on my mind"
By the way that Ric looked directly into her eyes, Connie knew that Ric was telling the truth. He just felt good about himself. Connie smiled warmly at Ric in response and the corner of her eye caught the disapproving expression on Nick Jordan's face. He was the new consultant who was dying to return to the cardio thoracic specialism, which he had learnt several years before under Anton Meyer. There was bad blood between the two men, Nick's overweening ambition and pushy high risk strategies offending Ric's easy going nature and his sense of propriety. Connie had ended up being the unwilling mediator between the two of them.
"So what have we got today that I can get my teeth into"
"I suppose this is a closed shop?" queried Nick with a frown on his face.
"Not at all, Nick. I am quite willing to spread my favours around to all that deserve it"
"So where do I stand"
"Just wait and see, Nick," teased Connie. She had had to develop her own tactics to deal with two competitive alpha males that was not in any conventional management handbook but it worked. It gave her an ego boost to be at the center of affairs at St. Mary's but sometimes, she found the tense relationships fairly wearing. It came of hospitals being such a locked in world where those in the caring profession worked long hours and would always be found doing so, from her long experience. However, that was the price of the power of her position.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Donna in full motor mouth mode gossiping with another nurse, the very polite and tolerant Mickie. She was sure that Donna was regaling her friend with lurid stories of the exploits of last night. Donna's head suddenly turned and she gave Connie a big smile.
Suddenly, a trolley was wheeled through at urgent speed with the message of 'severe abdominal pains, BP dropping fast' and Ric went off, stage right at a measured pace to deal with the matter and Donna had to stop her conversation mid sentence to rush after Ric. Mickie sighed tolerantly and went off to her ward where Owen ruled supreme.
"My god, you get more dictatorial every day." Tricia argued to her rather humourless and iron willed daughter Chrissie who was matron. "The power and uniform is going to your head"
"Isn't it just, Nurse Williams and I still want your duties on the roster done by four sharp." Came the implacable reply.
"Where have I done wrong in bringing her up?" sighed Tricia under her breath out of earshot. "She's getting more like Hitler every day."
Connie turned towards her office and spent an hour buried in the hospital accounts and examining the cost projections for the next three months, which were at the least tolerable. Eventually, she switched off her computer, that powerful instrument that held sway over the working lives of a busy hospital and partnered Ric in a tricky replacement heart valve operation that demanded her close attention.
"Excellent, I can leave you to the sewing up. A good morning's work"
She immediately changed out of her gown and scrubbed up to continue on her rounds of the patients. The immense feel of her usefulness and self worth was something that she never became blasé about and the anxious questions from the patients was something that she devoted her personal care to give them heartfelt reassurance .She had to periodically stamp on immature registrars who saw and related to patients merely as animated potential ailments and material for operations. If she had achieved nothing else in her professional career, she gained satisfaction on that vital lesson being passed down to future generations of doctors.
She clearly remembered that it was lunchtime when Chrissie placed the large brown manilla envelope containing the X ray results for her attention. At the same time, Ric recognized the woman accompanying and lagging slightly behind the smart suited man who strode purposefully in their direction. They were noticeable for the way that , unlike most visitors, they didn't look vaguely around at the array of signs for different wards. A warning bell rang in Ric's mind that this was trouble in the form of DI Archer.
"Which poor unsuspecting individual have you come to wrongly arrest now"
"This time, we aren't making any mistakes," came the man's hard-edged Scottish accent. Young cocky upstart, Connie pegged him, as she prepared to do battle over whomever he had come to hassle.
"We are looking for a Mrs. Beauchamp." DI Archer added by way of explanation.
"You've found her. Can someone explain to me why I was not informed that a couple of police officers were wandering around my hospital?" Connie snapped, her gaze flicking round from Ric, to Chrissie and traveling on to Will and Nick. "I suppose that I will have to find out directly just who you have come to see and that someone can take you off my hands. I've got important calls to make"
"They'll have to wait till later. It's you that we've come to see." DI Sullivan added in surly tones.
"Me? If this is a joke, it's in very bad taste."
"No joke, I assure you"
"This isn't the first time I've been here. I remember when we finally slipped the handcuffs on one of your nurses, Kelly Yorke I seem to remember," DI Archer chipped in.
"Yes, and you were after Kath Shaughnessy then and you got the wrong person then," muttered Ric just loud enough, glaring at the unwelcome intruders. It struck him that no one else was going to say anything so it was down to him to protest.
"Can you please tell me what on earth this is all about or must you go on talking in riddles"
"We're investigating the murder of a former patient, one Mrs. Angela Masters and you are in the frame for her murder. I am asking you to accompany us to the station to help us with our enquiries." DI Sullivan intoned in his best official tones.
"Not on your life. I have absolutely nothing to do with all this." Hissed Connie, her face turning white with shock. The first stages of the nightmare to come were starting to seep into her consciousness. Despite her best efforts, this was not going away. She put down the envelope that she had been clutching onto the reception desk. Somehow, she felt that she needed her hands free to deal with this emergency.
There was a faint twitch on DI Sullivan's lips. He had his share of prejudiced and articulate, strong willed women who had rubbed him up the wrong way, especially the kind that made him feel gauche and inferior. For once, this particular woman had blundered onto his patch where his rule of law held supreme.
"Then, it will have to be the hard way."
Very deliberately, he drew out a pair of handcuffs and snapped them over Connie's slim wrists. She suddenly felt pinioned and helpless. Her hands were the tools of her trade with which she skillfully handled all the delicate surgical tools with such knowledge and precision. She looked around at all those over whom she had held authority and the fact that they were looking on made her burn with utter humiliation. She was as equally afraid of pity and sympathy as she was of scorn and derision.
"Are you coming willingly or must we use force, Mrs. Beauchamp?" said DI Sullivan in his hardest tone of voice.
"If it takes my presence to sort out this matter at the police station, then I will have to go. Ric, will you take over my duties and appoint who you see fit as backup support."
Connie's voice cracked with all her old authority. It crossed her mind that it might be the last time for a bit that she would get to exercise that authority. She strode away between the two police officers, her head held high and looking straight in front of her.
For once in a busy hospital wing, there was utter silence.
"Those police officers must be off their heads. Connie is nothing if not professional " exclaimed Nick loudly.
Ric smiled warmly at the man. He had never had any time for the man but, for once in his life, he had no personal agenda on the matter.
"When Connie gets to the bottom of this one, they'll regret having set foot in St. Mary's." Ric replied with more confidence than he felt. This event had knocked the usual hospital routine clean off its axis and he was instantly aware of the gaping hole left by the absence of Connie's commanding presence.
"Connie's no more a murderer than I am a Jehovah's Witness." Chipped in Donna brightly. Though she was as much shaken up as anyone, she tried to put on a bright face. Brief wan smiles accompanied her attempt at a joke.
"It looks like you're in charge, Ric- at least until Connie gets back. In my opinion, the police really have been rather silly," put in Will, his eyes cast meekly down at his feet and his voice very muted and reticent. Ric stared sightlessly back at the man.
"Who's going down to the police station to see how Connie is and see what help she needs. Someone has to"
It took the very down to earth Tricia Williams to voice the obvious and stop the conversation going round and round in circles. The police officers sounded as mad as hatters but they had the power and Connie didn't. There was a murmur of consent.
"We'll cover for you, Ric if you want." Diane offered anxiously. There was an instinct that, however hard Connie had driven them at times, she was one of theirs
Ric nodded in assent. Up till then, his mind had felt half frozen over and it was this collective decision that started the mental circulation going. Mercifully, it was only then that the balloon went up and the usual run of emergencies and operations grabbed everyone's attention for awhile until he could grab some spare time and think about getting over to see how Connie was coping.
Connie had sat in the back seat of the police car. Her thoughts seesawed between violent rage and helpless fear but, at all costs, she couldn't show an inkling of her feelings to these police officers any more than she had ever shown in her life. Her defences were up and so were her hackles. She ignored any token efforts made at conversation and dare not look out of the window. She was mysteriously swept off her usual path into an unknown arena. It seemed like a dream of reality gone askew that she would never get to examine that X ray as she had done a thousand times before. When she was taken into the police station, she propped herself against the desk, visibly bored and angry while the interminable red tape was completed. Eventually, she was taken into a small bare interview room where a black box was perched on the side of the desk. At one moment, she had to fight down feelings of causeless panic and on the other hand, the sensation that this wasn't real and that she was still Connie Beauchamp, clinical lead at St. Mary's and she would be pointed back to the welcome security blanket of the many demands on her time and her skills.
She faced the two solemn faced police officers, one of whom clicked on the tape machine and DI Sullivan intoned the formula she had heard on police TV drama until her brain sharpened as she sensed him come to the point.
"I suppose you know why you're here, Mrs. Beauchamp"
"I haven't the faintest idea."
"I have here the death certificate of Mrs. Angela Masters. Can you tell me if you recognize it? For the benefit of the tape, I am handing Mrs. Beauchamp the death certificate of the deceased person. Can you tell me if this is your signature"
"It is definitely my signature."
That was the opening exchange of an interview that Connie would remember for the rest of her life. It disturbed her that on her home ground, she could have wiped the floor with this man but this situation had robbed her of her accustomed confidence, verbal fluency and debating fire. It humiliated her that she was only working at half capacity and sounded much more vulnerable than she was accustomed to feeling. She recalled the patient from the number that had been through her hands and there was nothing untoward about the matter. She had signed off the death certificate just as she had done in the past with her usual care and detail. She couldn't understand how these rotweillers in human form were coming out with points that she hadn't got the foggiest idea about. She knew that she was innocent but it was quite another matter to refute the points that were being made. She felt wearier than she had felt at the end of a long shift and that black box was taking down every last syllable of this interrogation. All she could do was to deny and deny over again whatever she didn't know about and insist on what she could recall. She felt crippled by the fact that she hadn't got the case file to hand and that she was entirely dependent upon her memory. The whole nightmare went on and her throat became dry with talking. Eventually, DC Sullivan ground to a halt and folded his arms in front of him.
"Mrs. Constance Beauchamp, I am charging you with the murder of one Mrs. Angela Masters. I think that we have got quite enough to hold you on remand for tonight"
Connie went white with shock. She suddenly felt very dishevelled and she sank back in her chair.
"I must phone my colleague, Ric Griffin. He has to know what's going on"
"Does he?" he sneered.
"Even as your prisoner, I have my rights. I'm perfectly capable of finding out what they are from my lawyer when I get one"
DI Sullivan shrugged his shoulders. These types were pushy and he questioned just how far he could face her out on this one when he was on dodgy grounds.
"I need my mobile back at least for the time being or else I'll have to borrow your phone"
Even in that moment of tension, Connie spotted the look of irritation and fatal hesitation that crossed the man's face. With a tiny sliver of satisfaction, Connie pushed the button giving her that tiny bit of control over her life and sighed with sheer relief when she heard Ric's voice in her ear.
"Ric, it's Connie. I'm being charged with the murder of Angela Masters. I've just been cross-examined and they're holding me overnight. I need you to come down and sort things out at home and work until….until I can get back to work"
Connie struggle to sound dispassionate and businesslike was like an arrow through Ric's heart. He felt so deeply for her in words that he could not measure and put together in order.
"I'm just on my way over to see you. Give me half an hour and I'll be right there"
"How are you going to get there, Ric"
There was a faint pause before Ric answered. His will to be there has outstripped working out the means to do so.
"I suppose I could take a taxi."
"Listen. You go into my office and pick up the spare keys to my Jag but mind you don't scratch it"
There had been a faint tremor in Connie's voice that deeply upset Ric. She wasn't the cool, superbly controlled strong woman that he was so used to. The faint tone of authority in her voice came close to doing her in.
"You hang on in there, Connie"
"I've got no choice," came that faint echo of her self-sufficiency.
Ric made his way to the police station late in the afternoon and worked his way through the foreign lines of authority till he came to the bare room and that same young upstart riding shotgun throughout their meeting. One look at Connie's face made him instinctively reach out for her and they hugged and kissed each other without reservation. "Oh, very touching," that hated Scottish accent sneered.
Both of them pointedly ignored the man. Ric had cooled down long enough to treat the situation with care and Ric had learned from when the police caught him at a party carrying dope in his pocket to never argue with the police from a position of disadvantage.
"Ric, can you take my lovely Jag to your house and look after it until…I am back"
The break in Connie's voice said all that Ric needed to know about how vulnerable she was feeling. He had learnt that Connie was normally the last person wanting much less than thanking anyone to fight her battles for him but it came natural to give her a bit of backup.
There was so much that Ric wanted to say to Connie but they both felt constrained by the situation and the presence of DI Sullivan. All Ric could come up with were lighthearted trivialities designed to bolster her spirits. It would have relieved him to receive a dose of Connie's anger because that would have at least signified some measure of optimism.
"Everyone is giving you their best wishes back on the ward." Ric finally uttered in what he thought was a totally lame inexpressive fashion.
"I'm surprised considering how hard I've driven them over the years"
There was an almost soulful expression on Connie's face. She had got the meaning behind his words and that was enough.
There had to come the time for Ric to go. He gave Connie a last hug of reassurance and she held onto him fiercely before they let go. He was still half looking at Connie as he went out of the door. The room felt very bare and empty to Connie after Ric left.
"I'll escort you to your cell now, Mrs. Beauchamp." It wasn't a suggestion but an order that she hadn't the power to countermand. It was that moment that it dawned on her that she ceased to possess control over her destiny. It was this lack of control that frightened her the most.
"When I'm ready." Connie murmured evenly. The fact that she collected her things almost immediately showed her that even token gestures had their place.
She was led along narrow corridors until she faced the steel faced door, which was opened for her. The cell looked so much darker, barer and more inhuman than the bright luxury of her bedroom but she shut down that thought straightaway. She dared not think of anything more than what lay immediately before her.