Chapter 1.
It was raining soft and warm as the large 747 touched tarmac at Washington Dulles International Airport. The lights of the runway and terminals glowed yellow and orange out of the tiny plane window. John squeezed June's hand during the inevitable bump and lurch of the landing. For June, this was a homecoming, perhaps the happiest one she would ever have, since the tragedy. For John, this was an adventure, as he had never been to the states before. June owned a house in Arlington, Virginia, which had been her parents' home, before they died. She also owned a beach house in Delaware. The plan was to spend a few days in Washington DC, and then go up to the beach house and spend the rest of their honeymoon soaking up the salt and sea.
June and John breezed through immigration, and met up again at the baggage claim.
June smiled, "Did they give you any trouble?"
"Not at all, plus I got a fantastic stamp in my passport!" John grinned at his new wife.
June examined the stamp; it was red, almost not visible against the pinkish- red background of the UK passport. "Ooh. Creative. Nice green card as well."
John slid the passport into his breast pocket on his shirt. "Gee, thanks. I'm an alien - I'm an Englishman in DC."
June shot John a sideways glance, "If you continue singing that I'm going to make you carry my suitcase."
"So what else is new?" John laughed. As the suitcases were revealed on the conveyor belt, John pulled and tugged both of them off. "So where to now?"
"Over there," June said, motioning to the customs desk. She handed the customs officer their collective white form. The officer glanced at it, and eyed June and John menacingly, before waving them through.
As they walked out into the fenced greeting area, June whispered, "I never know how those guys will act. Sometimes they're nice, and other times they're right gits. I've had my suitcase searched, and the hems of my clothes felt down for no reason at all. US customs officers are power- hungry jerks."
John stifled a laugh, "Sort of like US coppers?"
"Oi you shut up!" June dug her elbow into his side. "You're not funny you know, you're on my territory now and it's my turn to make xenophobic jokes!"
"But you won't, will you? You know I'm right!" John shot her a sweet smile.
"Yeah, whatever, Mr. Boulton. Here's my bag." June left John standing with her suitcase as she bought two bus tickets to take them to the Metro station, which was a few miles away.
"Sure thing, Mrs. Boulton." John called out to her. 'Mrs. Boulton,' he thought, 'Mrs. Boulton? My God, that sounds so strange. She's my wife. I have a wife!' The thought made him giddy and dizzy. Just yesterday he was a bachelor with a fiancée. Today he's a married man. It almost seemed unreal.
June came back, "So are we ready? It's that one." They got on the bus, placing their luggage in the racks and sat down near the front. "We want to get off at West Falls Church Metro station. From there, it's a short trip to Ballston, where we get off."
"Where do we go from Ballston?" John asked.
"Well, at the top of the station, we get a bus up the road and get off near Marymount University. From there it's a short walk to the house. My car is there, in the garage."
Getting off at West Falls Church Metro, John looked all around him. The station was so unlike the tube. It was above ground, in a purpose-built building. It was all brown and orange décor, a bit dated but the cleanliness and lack of graffiti made up for that. When the train pulled up, he could hardly believe that the seats were made of orange leather.
"This sure beats the tube!" John said
"Yeah, but don't let it fool you, it's cleaner and newer, but there are still tons of delays."
"But it's got leather seats!"
"They're plastic, you divvy. It only looks like leather. It's so that the drunken derelicts can't stain the seats as they ride the trains all day long."
"Oh. Still, better than the black and white check of the Northern line."
June raised an eyebrow at John and shrugged, "I guess so. If brown and orange is your thing."
June rolled her eyes at her husband's enthusiasm. Fresh off a seven and a half-hour flight, and he was brimming with energy. Where did it all come from, and where could she get some? All she wanted to do is crawl into bed and sleep off the gruelling flight. June hated flying as she found the seats uncomfortable, the food lousy and the movies boring. She used to take two sleeping pills and they would carry her across the ocean but since the deep vein thrombosis scare she forced herself to stay awake to take exercise.
John, on the other hand, loved flying. He ate his meals and hers as well. He watched the movies with great interest and played the video games in the back of the seat. In many ways he reminded June of a big kid. During work hours he was hard nosed, no-nonsense 'Robocop', as Kerry Holmes put it, but away from work he became her John - gentle, kind, almost child-like. He had been hurt and disappointed so many times in the past, so at first it was hard for her to break through his outer shell. For many months she felt as if there was a little piece of his heart that he was holding back from her. As the months got closer to their wedding day, though, he let his guard down, little by little until there were no secrets left, nothing left unspoken or unsaid, no more uncomfortable silences. They were each other's best friend, as close as two people can possibly be. June was excited about sharing her old life with John.
* * *
Since the murder of her parents, June moved to England and didn't come home very often. After Pedro Escoverda, the man behind the killings, was apprehended, she came home for two months, to see if she could, finally, cope with being back in the states, living in her family home. She finally felt almost at peace when she was there, almost, because John was on her mind the whole time. She tried putting him out of her mind, and dating others, but she couldn't do it. June found the men she dated to be shallow and unintelligent, when compared with John. She, probably, would have been able to join back up in the US FBI if it wasn't for John. Her heart was his, as much as she tried to fight it. One day, early December, she decided that she had enough, and had to see him again, to see if he still had the same feelings for her. She phoned up her UK boss, Sir Steven Croft, and found out about the Met Christmas Ball, which was three weeks away. She organised a ticket and flew back over to England, staying in a hotel since she put her flat up to be let. She contemplated going to John's apartment, and knocking on the door, but decided that would not be the best way, nor would a phone call. June figured the Christmas ball would probably be the best time to see John again. It would be in a public place, and she would have friends there in case he gave her the cold shoulder. That is, of course, if he decided to go in the first place. She couldn't shake away the niggling doubt that he would rather be seen dead than go to a posh ball. She decided to risk it, after much soul searching and self-torture. She had to know, one way or another, if there could be a future for her and John, or if it was destined to be a could-have-been.
She had dry heaves the whole morning before the ball. Her nerves were almost as bad as the days following her family's murder. She paced around the hotel suite, trying on various dresses she had picked up the day before. She experimented with different hairstyles, and wanted to look absolutely perfect. She cursed her stomach, thighs and arse, and the fact that she had cheesecake the night before. 'Room Service should be outlawed,' she thought to herself, 'as should Haägen Dazs, Ben and Jerry's and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.' Finally she chose the black long dress, and decided to go for the whole 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' profile. If anything would make his heart beat faster, it would be this outfit. She got herself ready, called the concierge for a black cab and waited.
Upon entering the main ballroom at the Savoy, she saw the heads of people she didn't recognise. Sir Steven was nowhere to be found, and she didn't see John anywhere. She stood at the top of the steps, peering into the crowd, feeling more nervous by the second. June saw him and for a second their eyes locked. Reg Hollis smiled and started to wave. All of a sudden a figure turned around and noticed her, and mostly everyone else did as well. It was John. He was here. She started to smile and took a deep breath. He wasn't smiling. His eyes were as big as supper plates. She walked down the steps towards him, her heart thudding in her chest so loudly, she could swear everyone heard it.
"I wasn't sure if you would be here, as I didn't reckon these sort of do's were exactly your scene, DS Boulton."
As she smiled shyly up at him, fingering his lapel, the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.
And, here they were, six months later, husband and wife, in America together. After so many years of pain, torture and grief, June felt complete, whole again. John healed the massive wound that was left after the tragedy. Although she would always miss her parents and Thomas, she felt that they had sent her John to help her move on with her life. She took his arm and hugged it to her, leaning against him, closing her eyes. The train carriage rocked gently along the tracks and June enjoyed her new- found peace.
"Ballston for Marymount University, orange line train to New Carrolton." "Doors opening."
They gathered up their luggage just in time and got off just as the train announced "Doors Closing".
June was home.
* * *
He studied the card intently. One card, they were obviously married. The man was British, but she was American. 'Typical,' he thought to himself, 'American women hear the accent and that's it, they're smitten. So many couples like these two, nowadays. It never used to be that way. It used to be that American women knew their place in the world, and knew better than to run off to some foreign country to shack up with foreign men. It's pathetic. What's the world coming to? Someone should make an example out of couples like these two, and teach these women to marry men from the USA, and stay where they belong.'
"C'mon mate, are you going to take all day?" The British man leaned over the counter to examine the gadgets on the desk. The woman took him by the arm and said, "Be patient, honey. The officer is just doing his job." She smiled at the customs officer who was glaring with pure hatred at the British man.
He picked up his rubber stamp and slammed it down on the form. Looking at the woman, he said, through clenched teeth, "Welcome Home."
The woman smiled, gathered her baggage and cracked a joke to the man about him carrying her suitcase. 'Whore,' the officer thought to himself as she walked away. 'The Leader is right, someone ought to teach you a lesson in respect for the United States of America. Someone like me.' The officer looked at the card, "Boulton" it read. "1741 North Glebe Avenue." As he filed the card away he memorised the address. 'Someone's gonna teach you a lesson, little girl.'
It was raining soft and warm as the large 747 touched tarmac at Washington Dulles International Airport. The lights of the runway and terminals glowed yellow and orange out of the tiny plane window. John squeezed June's hand during the inevitable bump and lurch of the landing. For June, this was a homecoming, perhaps the happiest one she would ever have, since the tragedy. For John, this was an adventure, as he had never been to the states before. June owned a house in Arlington, Virginia, which had been her parents' home, before they died. She also owned a beach house in Delaware. The plan was to spend a few days in Washington DC, and then go up to the beach house and spend the rest of their honeymoon soaking up the salt and sea.
June and John breezed through immigration, and met up again at the baggage claim.
June smiled, "Did they give you any trouble?"
"Not at all, plus I got a fantastic stamp in my passport!" John grinned at his new wife.
June examined the stamp; it was red, almost not visible against the pinkish- red background of the UK passport. "Ooh. Creative. Nice green card as well."
John slid the passport into his breast pocket on his shirt. "Gee, thanks. I'm an alien - I'm an Englishman in DC."
June shot John a sideways glance, "If you continue singing that I'm going to make you carry my suitcase."
"So what else is new?" John laughed. As the suitcases were revealed on the conveyor belt, John pulled and tugged both of them off. "So where to now?"
"Over there," June said, motioning to the customs desk. She handed the customs officer their collective white form. The officer glanced at it, and eyed June and John menacingly, before waving them through.
As they walked out into the fenced greeting area, June whispered, "I never know how those guys will act. Sometimes they're nice, and other times they're right gits. I've had my suitcase searched, and the hems of my clothes felt down for no reason at all. US customs officers are power- hungry jerks."
John stifled a laugh, "Sort of like US coppers?"
"Oi you shut up!" June dug her elbow into his side. "You're not funny you know, you're on my territory now and it's my turn to make xenophobic jokes!"
"But you won't, will you? You know I'm right!" John shot her a sweet smile.
"Yeah, whatever, Mr. Boulton. Here's my bag." June left John standing with her suitcase as she bought two bus tickets to take them to the Metro station, which was a few miles away.
"Sure thing, Mrs. Boulton." John called out to her. 'Mrs. Boulton,' he thought, 'Mrs. Boulton? My God, that sounds so strange. She's my wife. I have a wife!' The thought made him giddy and dizzy. Just yesterday he was a bachelor with a fiancée. Today he's a married man. It almost seemed unreal.
June came back, "So are we ready? It's that one." They got on the bus, placing their luggage in the racks and sat down near the front. "We want to get off at West Falls Church Metro station. From there, it's a short trip to Ballston, where we get off."
"Where do we go from Ballston?" John asked.
"Well, at the top of the station, we get a bus up the road and get off near Marymount University. From there it's a short walk to the house. My car is there, in the garage."
Getting off at West Falls Church Metro, John looked all around him. The station was so unlike the tube. It was above ground, in a purpose-built building. It was all brown and orange décor, a bit dated but the cleanliness and lack of graffiti made up for that. When the train pulled up, he could hardly believe that the seats were made of orange leather.
"This sure beats the tube!" John said
"Yeah, but don't let it fool you, it's cleaner and newer, but there are still tons of delays."
"But it's got leather seats!"
"They're plastic, you divvy. It only looks like leather. It's so that the drunken derelicts can't stain the seats as they ride the trains all day long."
"Oh. Still, better than the black and white check of the Northern line."
June raised an eyebrow at John and shrugged, "I guess so. If brown and orange is your thing."
June rolled her eyes at her husband's enthusiasm. Fresh off a seven and a half-hour flight, and he was brimming with energy. Where did it all come from, and where could she get some? All she wanted to do is crawl into bed and sleep off the gruelling flight. June hated flying as she found the seats uncomfortable, the food lousy and the movies boring. She used to take two sleeping pills and they would carry her across the ocean but since the deep vein thrombosis scare she forced herself to stay awake to take exercise.
John, on the other hand, loved flying. He ate his meals and hers as well. He watched the movies with great interest and played the video games in the back of the seat. In many ways he reminded June of a big kid. During work hours he was hard nosed, no-nonsense 'Robocop', as Kerry Holmes put it, but away from work he became her John - gentle, kind, almost child-like. He had been hurt and disappointed so many times in the past, so at first it was hard for her to break through his outer shell. For many months she felt as if there was a little piece of his heart that he was holding back from her. As the months got closer to their wedding day, though, he let his guard down, little by little until there were no secrets left, nothing left unspoken or unsaid, no more uncomfortable silences. They were each other's best friend, as close as two people can possibly be. June was excited about sharing her old life with John.
* * *
Since the murder of her parents, June moved to England and didn't come home very often. After Pedro Escoverda, the man behind the killings, was apprehended, she came home for two months, to see if she could, finally, cope with being back in the states, living in her family home. She finally felt almost at peace when she was there, almost, because John was on her mind the whole time. She tried putting him out of her mind, and dating others, but she couldn't do it. June found the men she dated to be shallow and unintelligent, when compared with John. She, probably, would have been able to join back up in the US FBI if it wasn't for John. Her heart was his, as much as she tried to fight it. One day, early December, she decided that she had enough, and had to see him again, to see if he still had the same feelings for her. She phoned up her UK boss, Sir Steven Croft, and found out about the Met Christmas Ball, which was three weeks away. She organised a ticket and flew back over to England, staying in a hotel since she put her flat up to be let. She contemplated going to John's apartment, and knocking on the door, but decided that would not be the best way, nor would a phone call. June figured the Christmas ball would probably be the best time to see John again. It would be in a public place, and she would have friends there in case he gave her the cold shoulder. That is, of course, if he decided to go in the first place. She couldn't shake away the niggling doubt that he would rather be seen dead than go to a posh ball. She decided to risk it, after much soul searching and self-torture. She had to know, one way or another, if there could be a future for her and John, or if it was destined to be a could-have-been.
She had dry heaves the whole morning before the ball. Her nerves were almost as bad as the days following her family's murder. She paced around the hotel suite, trying on various dresses she had picked up the day before. She experimented with different hairstyles, and wanted to look absolutely perfect. She cursed her stomach, thighs and arse, and the fact that she had cheesecake the night before. 'Room Service should be outlawed,' she thought to herself, 'as should Haägen Dazs, Ben and Jerry's and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.' Finally she chose the black long dress, and decided to go for the whole 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' profile. If anything would make his heart beat faster, it would be this outfit. She got herself ready, called the concierge for a black cab and waited.
Upon entering the main ballroom at the Savoy, she saw the heads of people she didn't recognise. Sir Steven was nowhere to be found, and she didn't see John anywhere. She stood at the top of the steps, peering into the crowd, feeling more nervous by the second. June saw him and for a second their eyes locked. Reg Hollis smiled and started to wave. All of a sudden a figure turned around and noticed her, and mostly everyone else did as well. It was John. He was here. She started to smile and took a deep breath. He wasn't smiling. His eyes were as big as supper plates. She walked down the steps towards him, her heart thudding in her chest so loudly, she could swear everyone heard it.
"I wasn't sure if you would be here, as I didn't reckon these sort of do's were exactly your scene, DS Boulton."
As she smiled shyly up at him, fingering his lapel, the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.
And, here they were, six months later, husband and wife, in America together. After so many years of pain, torture and grief, June felt complete, whole again. John healed the massive wound that was left after the tragedy. Although she would always miss her parents and Thomas, she felt that they had sent her John to help her move on with her life. She took his arm and hugged it to her, leaning against him, closing her eyes. The train carriage rocked gently along the tracks and June enjoyed her new- found peace.
"Ballston for Marymount University, orange line train to New Carrolton." "Doors opening."
They gathered up their luggage just in time and got off just as the train announced "Doors Closing".
June was home.
* * *
He studied the card intently. One card, they were obviously married. The man was British, but she was American. 'Typical,' he thought to himself, 'American women hear the accent and that's it, they're smitten. So many couples like these two, nowadays. It never used to be that way. It used to be that American women knew their place in the world, and knew better than to run off to some foreign country to shack up with foreign men. It's pathetic. What's the world coming to? Someone should make an example out of couples like these two, and teach these women to marry men from the USA, and stay where they belong.'
"C'mon mate, are you going to take all day?" The British man leaned over the counter to examine the gadgets on the desk. The woman took him by the arm and said, "Be patient, honey. The officer is just doing his job." She smiled at the customs officer who was glaring with pure hatred at the British man.
He picked up his rubber stamp and slammed it down on the form. Looking at the woman, he said, through clenched teeth, "Welcome Home."
The woman smiled, gathered her baggage and cracked a joke to the man about him carrying her suitcase. 'Whore,' the officer thought to himself as she walked away. 'The Leader is right, someone ought to teach you a lesson in respect for the United States of America. Someone like me.' The officer looked at the card, "Boulton" it read. "1741 North Glebe Avenue." As he filed the card away he memorised the address. 'Someone's gonna teach you a lesson, little girl.'
