The longer the speaker talks the harder Andrea finds it to concentrate, across from her Gina rolls her eyes and places her hands around her neck. Andrea doesn't want to kill herself to rid the misery of the speaker, her misery stems from wanting to feel Neil's touch or some reaction that tells her it's o.k. she said the things she did, he understands it's hard. A brush of his knee, leg or hand, shoulder to shoulder – anything, a little toe. Nothing. She can feel him next to her but as she tunes out the speaker's words she wonders if it's a sixth sense she has for him or a trick her mind plays that has led her back to him at each opportunity they have. Do men feel this way as well?
Instead she watches his pen form words across the page, his writing small and messy compared to her loopy and flowing style, when she was in school she used to dot her letters with hearts. He starts a new line with the word receive, she looks twice because there's something not right – it's spelt incorrectly.
The concentration on his face brings back the stress lines to his face, brow creased.
"Receive is e.i.v.e." She says and surprises herself as the words roll with ease out of her mouth, her tone is light and friendly but it doesn't stop Gina and Ramani looking across at Neil for his reaction, he doesn't notice them giving Andrea an off look. He says thanks before rewriting the word.
She tunes back into the presentation, wanting the day to be over.
Gina disappears during the generously laid out lunch, Andrea won't be saying anything about the fact it's Jonathon Fox. There are few PC's in attendance; Ramani gets talking to another officer running a VPU unit and Andrea ends up pushing her food around the plate. She ignores Neil as he sits in Gina's chair opposite her; she has a strange version of foot in mouth disease today that she doesn't want to have another outing.
"Today's hard for me." Andrea continues creating a melting pot of her meal; her eyes meet his asking for leniency. "We sat on the floor of your flat and agreed we couldn't keep behaving the way we were and I respected that and a week later I find myself in the situation we said we wouldn't put ourselves in."
Andrea's fork goes down quietly, biting her bottom lip she says 'sorry'. Neil seems to relax with her apology as if he thought an action of his was encouraging her. "But you think it's not hard for me as well?"
For Andrea the words formed a statement so she's surprised when he replies 'no'.
"Do you think it's possible to want something and when you get it you realise it's actually not what you wanted?" Andrea smiles sadly across the table then picks at her food with no intention of eating.
"Pulled in two different directions, when have I had that happen to me before?" Andrea nods and smiles properly this time. "You still know what you want for you and its right."
Despite the admission she's never heard him make before, her face tells him she's not convinced, and familiarity is creeping back in. He leaves his meal rounding the table to sit back in his seat. Andrea panics looking out into the sea of faces when his hand briefly closes over hers to stop the eventual mashing of her meal.
"Go and book us a room," he says softly. She feels his arm rest on the back of her chair and a knee bump into hers. She's not shocked or frozen, simply torn between wanting to and needing not to. His whole body is facing hers like she thought, the faintest whisper of their breaths mingle as Andrea holds his eyes with hers. "You've done it before; we'll make our excuses when this is over and we'll go upstairs and make love till dawn."
She brings her fingers to cover her mouth as if they'll stop what she wants to say coming out. Neil doesn't need words he can see the answer in her eyes.
"Alright I will." He pushes back his chair and steps away. Andrea stands out of her own calling his name; although his back is turned he hasn't moved away from the table.
When she has his attention she's honest with herself and him. "That won't get you out of my system."
"Running away are we?" Ramani asks from behind Andrea who breaks eye contact reluctantly with Neil.
"Going to the men's," Neil excuses, Andrea watches knowing she needs to go after him. She counts to six after he leaves the auditorium and excuses herself to the ladies. Calmly she walks to the reservations desk but the only one there is an employee of the Marriott who has her attention glued to the computer screen.
When Andrea gets back to the table Neil glances at her briefly from the conversation he's having with an officer Andrea doesn't know. He swaps seats with Ramani when the conference starts again, complaining of an aching neck from looking left to the front of the room.
"Do you need a life home?" Neil asks coming up behind Andrea as she waits for Gina to part from Jonathon Fox.
"The Inspector…" Andrea says and it's enough for Neil to know what she means.
"I'll see you." Andrea watches once he appears from behind her and pushes through the double doors to the street.
Yawning as she floods her flat with light, Andrea can't fathom what she's done today to warrant being so exhausted. She looks into the kitchen deciding she couldn't be bothered with even a frozen meal. She kicks her shoes into the living area, yawning once again. Although it's early she decides to turn in, confidant she'll drop right off to sleep. Instead she tosses and turns, listening to the sounds of life outside as she wishes sleep upon herself. It comes out of the blue and has her drawing her knees to her chest; he might never want her back. It's the only thought that plays over in her head till she finally drops off to sleep.
"Andrea." Julian Tavell catches her on the stairs heading down from CID. "I think you must have forgotten about this." He holds out the well-known envelope that Andrea takes reluctantly from him. She stares at it, hearing the new SRO head back down the stairs.
"Do you still have a box for the DI at the front counter?" Andrea asks running her hand over the envelope feeling the outline of the cold metal key. She'd long since forgotten about it, she estimates it's been sitting on the shelf for months, a glint of hope in a world full of doom.
"He picked it up a little while ago." Andrea's heart sinks as she thanks Julian. She peers inside the envelope as if she needs visual proof; looking back up the stairs towards CID she wants to go to him but knows she can't. The envelope flutters into the nearest bin, keeping the key pressed tightly against her palm. She can feel tears pushing, the need for privacy becomes urgent, she pushes past fellow officers', shoulder barging and nearly tangling her feet in theirs. She bursts through the door to the ladies pushing at each stall door – they're empty. Through tear blurred sight she fumbles to secure the slide lock. She cries silently with her head resting on the side wall her only words are whispered – 'I've lost him'.
"Andrea are you in here?" Steve Hunter's voice makes her jump; she quickly wipes her eyes and rubs her nose.
"This is the ladies." As if he doesn't already realise.
"I know but my eyes are closed." Andrea almost laughs.
"I'll be out in a moment." Andrea says trying to maker her voice sound as normal as possible.
At the basin she grabs a wad of hand towel, dousing it under the tap she presses them against her eyes that have become slightly blotchy and red with her tears, it makes precious little difference. No amount of soggy paper towel or adjusting her uniform will erase the sadness from her features.
"Don't say anything." Andrea uses her warning tone when she finds Steve waiting outside the loos. She meets his eyes briefly and then hurries off keeping her eyes down.
"It's about that guy you were seeing isn't it?" He hurries off after her. Andrea stops and glares, annoyed at the volume of his words, even his soft and kind tone irritates her.
"With Amber and me…" Steve begins as they walk towards custody.
"She played you like a cheap guitar; she was only ever interested in one thing." Andrea snaps and she knows she's crossed the line but can't bring herself to back down and apologise. Steve opens his mouth to protest but words don't arrive as his face contorts expressing the wounding he has just taken at her hands.
"I'm sorry." Andrea says but the words are without meaning and feeling, she walks on before Steve has a reaction.
The boxed lasagne bubbles over in the oven and burns onto the shelf below, she's not watching though – nor has she noticed she's bitten three nails down to the quick. Pain from the counter finally registers on her back prompting her undirected steps to the sofa. The TV is keeping her company and loudly, her neighbour has already banged on the wall once but Andrea can't hear the obnoxious advertisements. She doesn't feel the cool breeze that floats her curtains like an invisible hand lifting them or the siren the approaches, passes and fades.
She remains curled on the sofa the same nail now splintered and weak from her absent-minded gnawing. Her mind analyses, it flits through thoughts almost too fast for her to keep up.
"I should never have let him go, I should have been patient." She whispers to herself.
Her head confesses the horrible truth that she's made herself into too much like hard work, fallen into the trap of demanding too much too early and he'd been pushed away.
"A man who already had an inclination to run to his wife," she continues the conversation with her consciousness.
He still loves you her heart argues but she knows without her gentle encouragement to come back he's likely to see it as too hard. Now he's seen it's possible to be without her.
Over and over she argues with herself but always coming back to the same spot she started from. The phone's in her line of sight but before she can tell herself what a bad idea calling him at home would be the smoke alarm interrupts her thoughts further piercing the silence her neighbours so enjoy. The oven is full of smoke a thin veil clings in the open spaces of her kitchen, more billows out as she opens the oven door…her lasagne is charcoal.
The piercing alarm is finally silent as the cool night breeze pushes in through the window she opens and finally her head has space for thought. But she doesn't want to dwell anymore, happy to put on her pyjamas, brush her teeth, secure the flat again and hug the spare pillow till she falls asleep.