Camille had tried not to speed on her way to La Kaz, she really had, but Richard had taken the opportunity presented to him to teach her a lesson. His lecture had been even more boring than usual and he was revelling in it, stopping regularly to make sure that he had her undivided attention, so that she didn't even have the opportunity to daydream. The car came to a halt with a jerk, Richard's body jolting forward. He scowled at her and she gave a small satisfied smile disguised as an apology at the payback for his lecture.

His scowl faded as he took in the entrance to the bar. It was decorated with light and dark blue paper streamers, hanging from the door frame, dancing gently in the slight breeze. A half smile appeared in its place. He was pretty sure he should say something to Camille, even to acknowledge what she had done, but he wasn't sure what.

He realised he'd been quiet for some time when she sighed and said, "shall we go in?"

"Right, um, yes," the moment had passed – perhaps there would be an opportunity later to thank her properly. His mind temporarily leapt to ways he could thank her that wouldn't be conducive to their working relationship, and he pushed them hastily aside.

"Richard!" Catherine cried as she brushed past him carrying a tray laden rather heavily with…blue cheeses? Well, it wasn't exactly usual, but he supposed it fit with the general theme. Catherine seemed to in a bit of a rush trying to put the final touches to things. "I'd get you some tea but I am a tad busy right now!"

He leant slightly to the side and glanced into the kitchen, where several lovely and familiar smells were originating. He also spotted his – well, not his but Catherine's, tea set on the counter and offered, "I could just make my own…"

"Yes, yes!" She said, shooing him away with a wave of a – blue, naturally – napkin.

Camille had made her way over to the TV set. "Um, do you want anything to drink?" He asked – deciding he might as well play bartender for everyone. Camille looked up from frowning slightly at the remote to give him a brief smile and request a complicated sounding cocktail. She then laughed at the look of alarm on his face and changed the order to mango juice, something he was capable of handling.

Once Richard was in the kitchen and out of ear shot, Camille called to her mother, "We did get the BBC tuned in last night, didn't we Maman?" She had to make an effort to keep the concern out of her tone.

"Of course!" Catherine's usual sing song voice sounded clearly through the bar and Camille winced at the thought that Richard might overhear them and think that they hadn't been able to achieve the final hurdle. She should probably turn it on to double check. Aiming the remote at the television the picture or some semblance of the picture flickered to life. It waved in and out of focus, fuzzy lines marring the screen and Camille felt her stomach clench in panic. Not now. Please not now.

"Do you want ice?" Richard's voice came from the kitchen.

"Yes!" Desperate to keep him in there longer she shouted, "Um, and some slices of lime-" she wasn't sure if lime went with mango but whatever. "And, um, one of those little umbrellas?"

"You don't ask for much, do you?" came the sarcastic response. "Tell me, what did your last slave die of? Any idea where I can find any of those things?"

"Um, no sorry!" She said as she turned the aerial 45 degrees and jabbed the re-tune button. "Just look in the cupboards!" He huffed, but the sound of rummaging from the kitchen confirmed he was doing what she asked. Camille held her breath as a list of stations detected appeared on the screen – she saw BBC1 was there, but what would the picture quality be like?

Richard appeared by her side just as the television finished the re-tune and flicked to the first channel on the list. "That is the wrong one," he stated obviously. Camille crossed her fingers and entered the digits for BBC1 – YES! It took all her effort not to do a little happy dance when the picture and sound came on.

"Oh that is a better picture than I expected," Richard said mildly.

"Well we aim to please."

He was giving her that look again. That look that made her feel for a split second that she was the only woman in the world. Then it was gone. Hidden by his inability to thank her properly for the effort she had gone to and embarrassment as his stomach gave a groan. Why did it always have to do that!

She laughed and asked, "Lunch?" He nodded his assent and they wound their way through the chairs and decorations to sit on the veranda. She was about to take a seat in the sunshine when she realised that he would probably prefer the shade and changed her mind at the last minute. A move that was completely missed by Richard who was still trying to think of a way to thank Camille without making him look too desperate.

Looking around he could see that the bar really had been decorated perfectly. The two blues hung side by side from the ceiling, in streamers and banners, twisting and turning, catching the light. They were also next to each other on the tables in the different coloured napkins that they had somehow found. His sudden pang of homesickness that he felt was immediately tempered by the fact that had he been at home he would probably be at the Thames on his own. Certainly not with a beautiful woman, he reminded himself, despite her infuriating nature. It suddenly mattered less that he had no chance with her. At least she wanted his company, which was a damn sight more than anyone back in London.

"So when are the rest of the crowd arriving?" He asked conversationally.

"Um, I'm not sure…Maman? Are the Pembroke lot coming for the lunch?"

"Yes!" She said as she emerged from the kitchen with a plate of sausages. Richard perked up – they were proper 'bangers' as he would call them, Catherine had purchased a British brand especially. She placed them next to a tray of buns. "Hence the masses of food! I worked it all out with them a couple of days ago. They should be here any minute."

No sooner had Catherine uttered these words when the voice of a large number of men could be heard approaching the bar. They were backlit, and Richard squinted into the light, curious about what year this lot had graduated. If some were history majors he might even know a few. But then, as they entered shade and he could finally see them clearly, something became clear…they were wearing the wrong shade of blue.

"Camille, you did say they were from Pembroke, Cambridge, right?"

Camille bit her lip as she took in the men, "Um, it was definitely Pembroke. I mean, there isn't another one is there?"

"Yes," Richard bit back. "In Oxford." He squeezed his eyes very tight and hoped that when he opened them that they would no longer be there. That it would just be him. Actually, if he was wishing for something then they wouldn't just not be there. He would be at home. Without any of this fuss. He wouldn't even be at the Thames, just sitting in his chair at home. In England. Life would be so much less complicated.

He opened one eye very slowly and saw that they were still there. Bugger.

Camille was still hiding behind her menu. As she lowered it slowly her unruly curls, forehead and finally her big brown eyes came into view. Big wide brown eyes. He misread her disappointment for guilt.

"Richard, I didn't know, I swear!"

He really wanted to throw a hissy fit. But the idea that she might still somehow cancel the party loomed large for him. So what that there was an Oxford reunion here? In days gone by there had always been a bit of friendly competition on the banks of the Thames hadn't there? And he'd never got in the way of a bit of friendly rivalry. He would be magnanimous – he was the reason the party existed after all, they had to give him some credit for that.

He managed to pull himself together.

The men spotted him and the noise level increased exponentially. "Catherine!" One of them cried – Richard assumed the one who had been arranging this. "You arranged for us to have somebody to gloat over when Oxford wins!" He grabbed her and kissed her firmly on both cheeks – Catherine took it in her stride and batted them away.

"It wouldn't be the same without seeing the distraught face of a Cambridge supporter or two," another agreed cheerfully, winking at Richard in a manner he considered quite forward.

"And now little Lottie has somebody to sulk with!"

"I think you'll find that's share the Champagne with," Richard heard a female voice say, though he couldn't see who it belonged to. And then she appeared, a petite thing elbowing her way through the men, her long red hair unfortunately clashing somewhat with her sundress in…Cambridge colours! "Thank goodness!" She said vehemently, wiping a few strands of damp hair off her face. The men were all crowded round the bar now, trying to get the drink orders in, and those that weren't were devouring the sausages. "I thought I would be the only one. Charlotte Salter – and since you are my new best friend it would be terribly good if I could know your name?" Her accent sounded Borders to Richard, and it was one that he had always found attractive, though he wasn't going to tell her that.

"Um, Richard."

She mimicked him. "Um Richard?" She dazzled him with a smile to let him know that she was joking. "Nice to meet you!" She flung herself down in the chair next to him and Camille had to hide her locked jaw behind her menu again briefly before she too was targeted by the whirlwind of charm that was Charlotte.

"Are you Cambridge too?" For the first time in her life Camille was actually embarrassed of her island education. She tried to bluff her way out with defiance.

"No, I grew up here." On any other woman her tone that screamed "you got a problem with that?" would have sent alarm bells ringing and resulted in them quickly vacating the recently employed chair. Not so on Charlotte.

"Oh my God you are so lucky! What an amazing place to grow up. The island is so beautiful, I've spent the entire time we've been here exploring. The rainforest is incredible too, I can't believe there's so much of it left." At this, Camille shot Richard a look, which he modestly ignored. "The animals, oh wow!" She came screeching to a halt. "I'm sorry I'm talking too much aren't I? I talk when I'm nervous. Sorry."

In light of such a devastating assault Camille had been completely disarmed. Anyone that loved the island as much as Charlotte clearly did was ok in her book. She leant across the table holding out her hand as an introduction. "Camille."

It was gratefully taken. "Charlotte."

"So how did you have the misfortune to end up with that lot?" Richard said, nodding towards the men who were keeping Catherine on her toes.

"Oh my brother is in there somewhere," she said flapping a hand. She turned to examine the group, squinting, and then spotted him. "Yes, he is the one with a sun burn that could win a competition. Idiot didn't put any cream on. He was supposed to bring his girlfriend but they broke up and the ticket was going spare. Not one to turn down a free holiday, me!"

"Oh," Camille said. "I'm sorry for your brother."

"Don't worry, given his flirtations with every other woman on the island I am pretty sure he is over her. And it was her loss, not his anyway," Clearly she was fond of her brother. "Oxford is the family tradition, but I decided to go to Cambridge."

"Why?" Camille asked, from what little research she had done they had both seemed pretty similar. Though she knew saying that in front of Richard would have led to disownment.

"Because it's better," Richard and Charlotte said simultaneously. There was a beat before they both laughed.

"What college did you go to?" Charlotte asked Richard now.

"Peterhouse."

Richard had intended to ask her the same but before he could she squealed, "Me too!" Then, embarrassed by her giddiness, cleared her throat and asked more normally, "I graduated in 1996."

"Few years after me," he said, finding himself unwilling to give away his age with the exact date.

"How many years?" He'd almost forgotten that Camille was there. He narrowed his eyes at her by way of a response to her teasing tone.

"What did you study?" Charlotte had turned her chair towards him, her bright eyes fixated on him and Camille was interested to note that since the first time she had met him he didn't seem awkward with a woman.

"History."

"Me too! What did you specialise in?"

"The evolvement of Cathedral building in Medieval England."

She snorted and he couldn't for the life of him work out what was so funny. "Sorry, it's just so random!" He tried to interject, but she stopped him, "oh wow - Pillars of the Earth must have really annoyed you!" Camille was lost. She had no idea what Pillars of the Earth was, she was too busy trying not to look too surprised at his specialism. It was so typically him.

"It's really not that..."

She was laughing again, "Oh wow and the sex scenes. They were horrific."

Richard, to Camille's complete surprise, actually nodded in agreement. She would have expected him to loudly change the topic or suddenly declare he had to go…anywhere but here. "Yeah I had to stop reading it when I was on the tube."

"Fear somebody else would read it over your shoulder?" She said, with a knowing look.

"Yup."

"I'll assume you didn't watch the TV adaption then?"

"No," Richard said. "Though I imagine it was mildly pornographic…"

"Oh it was hardly Games of Thrones," This was clearly a comparison to something Richard was meant to have heard of – but he had no clue what she was talking about. Not wanting to reveal his ignorance he just nodded.

"So how about you? What did you study?"

"Oh I'm afraid it was a bit more mainstream than Cathedral building in Medieval England." She laughed at him again. And Camille felt a jab of annoyance shoot through her. Laughing at Richard was her domain. Charlotte exhaled sharply in order to get her giggles under control, then became serious. "The strategic warfare manoeuvres of the Mongols"

Richard gave one short burst of incredulous laughter. "A bit more mainstream?"

"Well it's certainly more interesting," she said, a little hurt.

The sound of rowdy carousing came from the bar again, accompanied by the occasional high pitched scream which apparently came from a man.

"My brother," Charlotte said by way of explanation. "They keep prodding his sun burn." Richard shot a glance at her brother's hair, then hers. Auburn hair, and in Charlotte's case beautiful auburn hair, like fire, he thought idly. He hadn't seen anything like it for a while. Not since...he checked himself. It didn't do to dwell on past victims of their cases. She caught him looking.

"Factor 50 in case you're wondering. Otherwise this," she indicated her skin. "Looks like that burger the proprietor is currently barbequing." She made this last comment to Camille. "Now," she said, turning back to Richard. "You look like a Footlights man to me…"

The two began to discuss various aspects of life at Cambridge, and Camille was feeling decidedly left out of the conversation. It wasn't usual that she felt out of her depth, but she suddenly got the impression that perhaps Richard didn't enjoy talking to her because she wasn't intelligent enough for him. After all, this girl Charlotte, she spat the name out in her thoughts, had come along and managed to get him to open up in the space of 5 minutes. And the only thing they seemed to have in common was the fact that they both went to the same university.

Richard's stomach rumbled again and Camille used it as an opportunity to get away.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Camille pushed her chair away angrily, "I'll get you a burger."

She was two steps from the table when Richard called after her, "Camille?" She turned, hoping that he was going to tell her not to go, but instead all he managed was "could you get Charlotte one too?" He looked to her by way of confirmation.

"Oh thank you, yes please," Charlotte called after her. Defeated, Camille gritted her teeth, grinned and disappeared into the kitchen.

Camille hadn't said anything because she thought she might not be capable of saying something nice. Having put in her order (she knew how Richard liked his burgers, not that he would probably notice) she stayed put for a moment and watched the pair of them. It was embarrassing really, the way he was awkwardly flirting with a girl he had only just met just because she went to Cambridge. Though Camille supposed she was rather pretty as well, if pale. Though of course, Richard was rather pale…they were probably bonding over sun cream brands at this very moment.

A burst of laughter rose from their table – one of the men from the Oxford lot elbowed her and said sotto voce, "Well it looks like somebody might get lucky even if Cambridge doesn't!"

She gave him what she thought was a happy smile, not realising the grimace that had appeared on her face. The thought made Camille feel a bit sick – but she supposed she should be happy for Richard. It was so rare to see him socialising and yet here he was – communicating with an actual stranger. She just wished it wasn't an attractive, intelligent female stranger.


"Ohhh, you're in trouble," Charlotte said at the table, when Camille was out of ear shot. "You know at school I was always being accused of trying steal boys off people – but I never was! I think I just talk to men as easily as I do women."

"Stealing…? What?" Richard was now completely lost. Why women couldn't stick to normal subjects of conversation was completely beyond him. He'd been rather enjoying their history chat.

"You know, women always get the wrong idea about that sort of thing. I should really go and apologise and tell her that I've got no interest in you."

"Excuse me?"

Charlotte misread his confusion over the fact that she thought he and Camille were together for hurt at an unintended insult. She tried to backtrack quickly. "Oh, I mean, not that you're not lovely. You are. Very lovely. It's just, there's this guy, and..." she caught the look on his face. "You're not interested. It's fine."

"Um. No. Sorry, it's just that you think we're together?"

She caught on immediately. "Oh I just assumed, the way you are together." She paused. "You mean you aren't together?"

Richard slowly shook his head, his heart pounding. "She's my Detective Sergeant," he hoped that his meaning was clear. "I'm her boss," he added for clarification.

She digested this. "So you don't fancy her..." Richard choked on the drink that he had just taken a sip of. "Oh, you do fancy her."

"I didn't say that!" He said, suddenly laughing a little hysterically. Charlotte joined in, but it was obvious she was starting to think he was a bit odd. Richard risked a quick glance in Camille's direction and noticed she was observing them – oh God he hoped she hadn't been lip reading, she'd been practising recently.

"I can't help but note you are choosing to neither confirm nor deny it," Charlotte said with a little wink. "But perhaps that is enough said. I can see it is making you uncomfortable – oh is it like forbidden then? That's exciting, no wait, that would be awful. I'll shut up now."

Little did Charlotte know that he had spent an awful lot of time considering if it was, as she put it, 'forbidden love'. Relationships between police officers were common in the UK, even between different ranks. Though ones in a direct chain of command weren't exactly encouraged, ways around it were found. When you worked a job with stupid hours and that tended to make you obsessive, often the only people you could truly bond with were your colleagues (or others from the emergency services)- so the police just made it work. But Saint Marie was a very different kettle of fish – and they weren't exactly overflowing with Detective Inspectors or other options for Camille to report too. In his weak moments, Richard liked to imagine there would be a work around here as well – but what he didn't do was spent time considering what that work around would be. Why, what would the point be? "She can do better than me," his last thought ended up being uttered aloud, and to his embarrassment he found himself the recipient of a sympathetic look from Charlotte.

"I think you'll find she gets to decide that," she said rather firmly.

He muttered, "I'm pretty sure she's already made up her mind." He locked his jaw. "Look, can we just leave it. I don't really want to talk about it."

"Because you'd prefer to pretend you don't have feelings for her?"

"I don't...!" He almost shouted the beginning, then seemed to realise he was about to abuse a near total stranger. He tried again several decibels lower. "I don't have feelings for her."

"Ok, so you can pretend that she doesn't have feelings for you...?" that caught his attention.

He tried a casual question, judging by the look on Charlotte's face he had failed stupendously. "What, um...what makes you think that she might have feelings for me?"

"Other than the look of pure evil she is currently shooting me?" Richard risked a look at her.

"That's the way she normally looks." He felt the need to explain. "She's always angry, usually with me. It's just a thing that she does."

"Probably frustration," Charlotte said, sounding certain. "That you don't pay any attention to her – or do for the wrong reasons. Believe you me, unrequited love is a horrible thing to have to endure." She seemed to realise the implications of what she had said and added, "I might not be right. Oh God, you've known me 10 minutes and I am going to be responsible for ruining your working relationship, aren't I?"

"Believe me, it is already pretty complicated." She was going to ask more, Richard could tell, but he flapped a hand at her as Camille was heading their way with the burgers.

"What is pretty complicated?" She asked, feigning cheerfulness as she sat down with them. She had come to the decision walking back to them to be polite and charming for the moment. If her mother saw her sulking she'd never hear the end of it for one thing – and there would be plenty of opportunity to punish Richard later for ignoring her in favour of some stranger after all she had done for him.

"The conclusions of the arson investigation into the fire at York Minster in 1984," Charlotte supplied quickly.

Camille noted Richard looked a little surprised by this – and was immediately suspicious, "Isn't that history a little recent for you?"

"Well we were discussing the replacement of original features with those designed to improve fire tolerance and if this ruins the character of buildings," Charlotte said smoothly. It was a lie, but it was a good one, and Camille knew she'd never find out what they had really been discussing. So be it.