Thanks for all the kind reviews to this my first LoM fic. I know I haven't regularly updated this and some of you have set alerts for this fic in particular and are cursing my name wondering what the devil I'm up to! However, be calm - I have not been idle! Oh no! My life may be empty of romance and excitement of the cute intelligent guy kind, but in my head I've sang with Hugh Jackman, I've paddled in the sea with McGee, I've wittily flirted with Sam Tyler, I've shared a hot beverage with Benton Fraser, I've danced round the TARDIS with the 9th Dr not to mention had a quick snog with the 10th Dr... Who needs real life? And, by the way, have you seen those little purple pills of mine recently?
To whit: Chapter 3 of LoM fic 'Life Gets In The Way' (subtitled 'And Ain't That The Truth...')!
Chapter 3
The rain poured down, hammering against the thin windows of North West CID HQ.
The building gently hummed with activity that befitted the afternoon, officers coming in the front door shaking the rain from their hats, WPC's wearily tapping away at typewriters, and above it all, just audible above the rain, came the sound of various radio stations.
Annie Cartwright looked in the mirror and sighed.
How was it, she thought, when you finally manage to get your hair to do the very thing you've always wanted it to do, it rains and you end up looking like a drowned rat?
'Yuck,' she told her reflection, 'You've got 'hat hair'...' and so doing, she started to root in her issue bag for a brush to try and resurrect her bangs.
The door creaked open and Phyllis snuck in the door.
'Hiya!' Annie greeted the older woman who clutched her heart dramatically.
'Annie luv!' Phyllis said, 'You gave me such a fright!'
'Oh, sorry. You alright?' Annie went over to her colleague.
'Yeah, I'm okay. Bloody awful weather out there, int it?' And so saying, Phyllis lit up another cigarette.
Annie took a step back from the smoke eminating from the non-filtered tip.
'Yeah, it's ruined my hair too.' she turned back to the mirror and did her utmost to make the best of a bad job. 'There. That'll have to do.'
'You look lovely, Annie, you always do.'
Annie turned in surprise to the Phyllis.
'Aw, thanks Phyllis! That's a really nice thing to say.'
Phyllis coughed as a stray piece of tobacco caught her throat.
'Hey, I'm not the only one to notice y'know?' and she winked very badly at Annie, who opened her eyes up wider and flushed a little redder.
'Ey, don't give me the wide eyed innocent look, young lady, you know full well who I mean.'
Annie stalled for time.
'No, no I've no idea who you mean. Chris Skelton is a nice bloke, but we're just mates.'
'Not that pup!'
'Besides he's spending far too much time with Ray Carling...'
'Ignorant sod!' Phyllis then used language unbecoming to, if not a lady, then definitely a member of Her Majesty's Constabulary.
'Phyllis!'
'Well, he is. Comes in here like some sorta king o' the jungle, throwing his weight about like he owns the bloody place! Just 'cause he was in with DCI Hunt...'
'What do you mean 'was in'?'
'Oooo luv, you didn't see the looks he was giving your young man the other day. Defective,'
'Don't you mean Detective?' Annie corrected her, trying to ignore her friend's illusion to DI Sam Tyler.
Or at least, she fervently hoped, thats who Phyllis meant by 'your young man'.
'I know what I mean,' muttered Phyllis darkly, 'Detective Sgt Raymond Carling's nose is firmly outta joint!'
'Why?'
'He's been replaced, luv. Not only has he been given the heave-ho by 'that woman' from the Co-op's Soft Furnishings department..'
'Was he seeing her?!' Annie was aghast.
'Seeing her? From what I hear he wasn't seeing any more than any other man in a ten mile radius has done before! She's no better than she ought to be!'
Phyllis fumed and gesticulated wildly with the stub of her cigarette.
Annie started to giggle at the other woman's outrage.
'Eh, you know what I mean!'
'I know! Phyllis?'
'Yes luv?'
'Do you think he got his divvy?' Annie held herself together long enough before she started to have to hang on to the sinks to remain upright.
Phyllis started a hacking laugh that ended up in a hacking cough.
The door banged open and Gene Hunt stood there in his shirtsleeves.
'Alright girls, playtime's over.' He announced around his own non-filter tipped Benson & Hedges. 'Phyllis - you'll snap your knicker elastic you keep laughing like that!'
'Cheek!'
'Sorry sir.' Annie wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes and stood up, straightening her skirt as she did.
'Yeah, alright. C'mon you two. Straighten your lipstick up and get back out here. Phyllis, Ray and Chris need your expertise with the ol' filing on front desk.'
'Comin', comin'' Phyllis stubbed out the remainder of her cigarette and tried to squeeze past Gene. As she eventually managed to do so, he leant forward and slapped the woman firmly and loudly on the backside.
Phyllis spun round and gave DCI Gene 'Genie' Hunt the fabled look that would have not only slayed but buried other men at least six foot deep where they had previously stood.
He just grinned and winked at her.
'C'mon Cartwright, you're wanted.'
'Sir?'
'DI Tyler has persuaded me he's after your brains, not your knickers, so you're now officially,' he paused, waving his cigarette in circles in the air as he sought for the word he wanted,' oh yeah, you're 'seconded' to help him out with one of his cases.'
Gene stood back, holding the door open for Annie to pass quickly past.
'He's in 'Lost and Found', luv' he shouted at her as Annie walked briskly down the corridor towards CID.
Annie turned the corridor, a huge smile on her face.
Sam! Sam had asked for her! She paused before the door of 'Lost and Found' and took a deep breath.
She knocked, and a familiar voice called out, 'Come on in!', so she did.
Sam was sitting at the only table in the room, surrounded by stolen bikes, and the other detritus gathered by the police station in its constant pursuit of justice.
Or in Gene's case, a decent bottle of whisky he wouldn't have to pay for.
Sam looked up and Annie couldn't ignore the smile that spread across his face when he saw who it was.
He jumped up and held the only other decent chair for her, so she was sat right next to him.
'How are you today?' he asked, looking directly at her.
Annie felt herself blush and cursed the rain for ruining her hair.
'Oh, you know, fine thanks. Got a bit wet doing an errand earlier.'
'Yeah, I saw you running back just after lunch...'
'Oh!' Annie stared at him. He saw her? What must he think? Her dad always said she ran like she was wearing concrete boots! And she must have looked a disaster! She looked up, embarrassed, to find Sam shuffling paper out of a file and trying not to look at her.
Was it the lighting in here, or was he a bit, well, red of face too?
'Anyway,' he was saying to her, ' I'd really like your help on this case.'
'My help?'
'Your opinion. Your degree in psychology could really help me out here,' and he proceeded to explain the basis of the case he was dealing with.
Annie sat and listened. At some point Phyllis came in with tea and some biscuits she'd scrounged from the canteen for them, but neither Sam nor Annie noticed her.
They were in the warm and dry on a cold, soggy, miserable Manchester afternoon.
And they were together. Working, but together.
If either of them felt the pressure of the other's knee against their own, or eye contact that lingered perhaps just a little too long, or the closeness at which they sat with each other, they were too engrossed, and too happy, to notice.
Okay, thought Annie, maybe it's not a date, but maybe?
Okay, thought Sam, so it's not a date, but perhaps?
