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London– May 1981
"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you!"
"Let go of me arm, Gene!"
"No, not until you hear what I 'ave to say!"
"What the 'ell are you on about?"
"You can't start seeing 'im again, Meg, you just can't."
"Since when did you become me jailer? Like I've said, you're not me dad, I can do what I like!"
"Please, just listen to me…"
"You still 'aven't got over what 'appened in that interrogation 'ave you? You're still holding a grudge like some daft schoolboy!"
"No…"
"That's pathetic, Gene, really pathetic!"
"If you won't listen to me, you dozy tart, then I guess I'll just 'ave to show you…"
"Boss? Boss?" Gene looked up to see Chris hovering in the doorway to his office, holding a bunch of files in his arms.
"What is it?" he asked, surprised at how his voice came out, quiet and breathless. "What are you standing there for, you pillock!" He sounded more authoritative that time.
"The files 'ave come down from Manchester." Gene stared at the bundle. Which one was Meg's? "What do you want me to…?"
"Put 'em over there," he gestured to the far corner of his desk. Chris did as obliged and then quickly left the office. Gene got up and closed the door behind him, glancing around to make sure there was no sign of Alex. If she knew the files were here she would be in like a shot demanding to see them. He needed to see them himself first. Needed to be prepared. He stood over the pile and flicked through them, watching each name flash past his eyes until the one he was looking for appeared, right at the bottom. Ryan, Megan Frances. He lifted it and stared at the white label and printed name for a long moment, before walking back around his desk and sitting back down.
He laid the file down on the desk in front of him, still starting at it. The paper edges were slightly curled, the effect of having been handled by large numbers of people and then shoved into storage with the others. He wanted to open it, and yet couldn't seem to find the courage.
Instead, he opened his desk drawer again and took out the photograph he kept there. Meg looked happy in the picture. A young woman with everything in front of her. It had been taken at one of the police summer picnics, long before he had fallen in love with her, long before he had ever touched her. Somehow, it had found its way into his possession and he had kept it, even when he had the real thing in his arms. It was even more precious to him now than it ever had been then.
Gene thought back to the vision he had been having when Chris walked in. The first time he had ever kissed Meg. It had been an action borne out of anger and frustration. Sexual jealousy, which he had never understood until the moment when he had seen her with that twat again. It had been the first time he had shared with her how he felt. The first step that had started them both down a path neither of them had experienced before.
He opened the file. Clipped to the left hand side were photographs of Meg. The first was one which Ted had provided them with after she had gone missing. It had been at least two years out of date but, like the one he had himself, it showed her happy and carefree. He touched it, running his fingers over her face, remembering what it had been like to touch the real thing. Underneath it were the aftermath pictures. Photographs taken of her body. The first was of her face, waxy and pale, the bruising around her neck clear to see, the imprint of a hand visible over her mouth. That mouth that he had loved to kiss. Then there were pictures of her other injuries. Bruising and scratches over her body, and the last one, the finger marks on her inner thighs…
He put the first photograph back on top, hiding the others, and re-clipped them back into the file. Then he turned to the paperwork on the right hand side. It was the most detailed of all the files, purely because it had been the one he spent the most time on and forced others to do likewise. There were handwritten notes, Annie's handwriting and some of Sam's. There were statements, taken from Meg's friends, the people she had been with the night she disappeared, from Ted, from him. A copy of Meg's birth certificate was also in the file along with the other birth certificate…
"Guv, I don't suppose…" He hadn't even heard the door open but suddenly Alex was standing in front of him, looking down at the file. "Is that…?"
"Don't they teach you to bloody knock where you come from?" he demanded angrily, slamming the file shut. "What do you want?"
"Is that one of the files from Manchester?" Alex finished her sentence.
"No."
She walked over to the remaining pile and looked through it, "These are the names of the women murdered in Manchester." She looked back at him, "I suppose that's Meg's file."
"I told you not to say…"
"The sixth victim's file, then," Alex interrupted, "although I don't see what good not using her name does to anyone, least of all you." He didn't reply and she sat down in the chair opposite him. "Look, I didn't say anything after her dad turned up at Luigi's last month but…"
"Then don't say anything now." He didn't want to be reminded of that night. Ted's anger, his bitter recrimination, which wasn't exactly without foundation.
"Gene…"
"Alex."
She held his gaze for a long moment. "You asked me to do a profile. I can't do that if I don't have all the information on all the victims."
He nodded at the pile on the desk, "Then take them and get on with it. But I've already told you it's not the same killer."
"I need all the files." She nodded at Meg's, "All of them."
Gene looked at her again. He trusted her – he knew he did. But somehow, turning over Meg's file, was like turning her over, handing her to another, admitting that he couldn't do it himself. He looked back down at it, at the picture of her smiling up at him. Then he closed it over and passed it to her.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"Just promise me one thing, Bolly," he said, as she made to leave.
"What?"
"Whatever you read in there, you won't judge me." She frowned, clearly unsure as to what he was talking about. He nodded at her, telling her silently that if she didn't know now, then she soon will.
"All right," she said. Then she left, taking the files with her, taking Meg with her.
Manchester – May 1973
"Guv? Meg…WDC Ryan and I have a theory."
Gene turned from where he had been yelling in Sam's face and looked at Annie who was leaning on the end of Meg's desk. Then he looked at Meg and she nodded in agreement. "Really? Go on then – astound us with your female intuition."
It was a month after Catherine's funeral. Meg had come back to her work as agreed and had thrown herself into their latest case, namely arson attacks on two Asian shopkeepers. Gene had watched her, waited for any sign of her cracking under the pressure, but it never came. She attacked it with gusto, coming in early and staying late, pouring over all the evidence. He had come in one morning at six, convinced he would be first, only to find her already at her desk going over statements. As much as the thought of her crumbling worried him, so to did this display of eagerness.
"Don't you think you should be going 'ome?" he had asked her one night as the hands on the clock slipped to eight o'clock. He had only stayed because she had. Sat in his office and pretended to do work just to be there for her.
"I'm not finished yet," she had replied, never lifting her head.
"It wasn't a question," he had said, sliding the piece of paper she was writing on away from her. Only then had she looked at him and he had seen the utter exhaustion behind her eyes. "You don't have to push yourself so hard, you know."
"I don't want to go 'ome," she had readily confessed. "When 'e's there, I worry and when 'e's not there, I worry."
"Ted?"
She had nodded, "I keep waiting for 'im to come 'ome and tell me 'e's got the sack. With the amount of drinking e's doing…" she had tailed off and shook her head, "Sometimes, I just can't bear it."
His heart had ached for her right then and there and he had wanted nothing more than to hold her, but instead, he had thrown her jacket at her. "Come on, I'll buy you a curry. No arguments." So they had found themselves at the Bombay Palace and he had kept her there as late as possible. Finally, when he had taken her home around midnight, they had both been relieved to see lights on in the house.
"'E's 'ome then," Meg had said, with a sigh, "At least I know e's there." Then she had turned to him and leaned over towards him so that she was unbearable close to him. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he had replied, glad for the darkness so that she couldn't see the effect her nearness had on him. "I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early."
"Bright and early," she had echoed, before kissing him on the cheek and then getting out of the car. Ever after, he watched for any other signs, always ready with the same offer if she needed it. But she hadn't. In fact, in the last few days, she had seemed remarkably upbeat…
"There's no need to be sarcastic," she quipped now, glaring at him.
"'Urry up before we die of boredom," he replied, ignoring her.
"We don't think it is the white supremacists," Annie said, "we think it might be someone closer to 'ome."
Gene looked at Ray, Chris and Sam and then looked back at the women, "Well that is bloody brilliant," he said, "I mean, now it's obvious!"
Ray snickered, "Give a plonk room to breathe and all you get is crap."
"Shut up!" Meg snapped, "You won't be saying that when we nail the bastards and you're left looking even more of a div than you already do!"
"Shut your mouth WDC Ryan," Ray shot back.
"All right, that's enough!" Sam said, holding up his hands, "Who do you reckon it is?"
"We were looking over the statements again," Annie said, "and what a lot of the locals were saying is that Azim Khan and Mahmood Chokar were involved in a price war and had been for the last year."
"A price war?" Gene looked at Meg.
"Yeah," she said, "They kept undercutting each other to the point of practically giving the stuff away. So, when Azim realised that he couldn't lower prices anymore, he decided to firebomb Mahmood's shop."
"When Mahmood worked out who it was," Annie continued, "he retaliated and firebombed Azim's shop."
"And what good was any of this supposed to do?" Gene demanded, "They put themselves out of business."
"Well, they probably didn't think about the long term consequences," Meg said, "they hate each other and wanted to inflict as much damage as possible."
"While leading us a merry dance," Sam said.
"Paki bastards," Ray added helpfully.
"Right," Gene said, fury beginning to build, "I want both of 'em in 'ere right now! I'm not 'aving some Paki twats make us look like bloody idiots!" At that moment, the door to CID opened and Phyllis appeared carrying a large basket of flowers. "Well Phyllis, I didn't know you cared."
"They're not for you," she replied, walking over to Meg's desk and setting them down in front of her. Gene immediately looked at Meg who was blushing. "Can you tell 'im that I'm not a flaming delivery service?" With that, she left.
"Who's sending you flowers, Meg?" Chris asked interested.
"Are they from 'im?" Annie asked as Meg lifted the card attached.
"Who's that then?" Gene demanded.
Meg read the card quickly, "They're from Robert."
"Robert?" Gene exclaimed, "Robert Hathaway? That twatty lawyer?"
Meg glared at him, "Yes."
"What's 'e sending you flowers for?"
"Why do you think, Guv?" Ray said, "'E wants back in 'er knickers."
"Shut up!" Gene snapped before turning his gaze back on Meg, "Well?"
"Well what?" she asked.
"What's 'e sending you flowers for?"
"What's it got to do with you who sends me flowers?" she retorted. "Are we going to arrest Azim and Mahmood or what?"
Gene bit back an angry response. He couldn't believe that Robert thought he could just worm his way back into Meg's affections after breaking up with her at Christmas. He hated that smug bastard. The worst thing was, Meg seemed almost pleased. They way she had blushed, the brightness of her eyes when she had glared at him…she couldn't possibly be thinking about taking him back, could she?
Unfortunately, those thoughts had to be put on the back burner while Azim and Mahmood were swiftly arrested and thrown about Lost and Found for a good hour until they both confessed to what they had done. Taking out his anger on someone else was therapeutic for Gene and by the end of it, he felt slightly calmer. That was until he heard that Meg was meeting Robert that night after work. He couldn't let her fall back in love with him, not without her knowing how he felt about her. But how was he supposed to tell her? Blurt it out in the corridor? Try and persuade her to come for dinner with him that evening and thereby circumvent any meeting with Robert? He tossed ideas back and forth with himself all afternoon until he saw Meg get up just after five o'clock and put her coat on.
"Need a lift 'ome?" he asked, catching up with her as she manoeuvred her way out of the room with the flowers.
"No you're all right."
"You'll never get them flowers on the bus."
"I've already got a lift, so it's ok."
He tried to look at her as they walked, but she was obscured by the large blooms, "Look Meg…"
"Can you 'old these while I get me bag from me locker?" She thrust the basket at him and he waited, feeling somewhat of an idiot, in the corridor as she got her belongings from the locker. "Thanks," she took them back from him.
"Your dad coming to pick you up?" he asked, although he knew full well that wouldn't be the case.
"No, 'e'll be down the pub as usual," she replied, "no, I'm…I'm meeting a friend."
"Oh yeah? Who's that then?" They were outside by now and Meg had managed to tuck the basket awkwardly under her arm, so he could at least see her face.
"Just…just a friend."
"Come on," Gene said, sick of playing games, "I know who it is, so you might as well tell me. It's Robert, isn't it?"
Meg stopped and looked at him, "I knew what you'd say if I told you. You didn't exactly take it well when I told you 'e'd sent me the flowers."
"'E's a twat."
"So you've said on more than one occasion."
"'Ow can you even be thinking about going back out with 'im?" Gene demanded, "After what 'e did?"
"'E didn't do anything."
"'E dumped you when your Mum got sick."
"It wasn't like that. Besides, he's apologised for that."
"Oh well then, if 'e's apologised…"
Meg stopped and turned to look at him, "Why are you being like this? Don't you want me to be happy?"
"Course."
"Then let me be happy."
"You won't be happy with 'im."
"You don't know that."
"Yes I do."
"Look," she started to get impatient, "I don't need you playing at being me dad, all right? Mine might be pretty useless right now but I don't need a substitute."
"Playing at being your dad?" Gene echoed. Christ, if only she knew the thoughts he had that were certainly not fatherly. "That's not what I doing."
"That's what it sounds like." She made to move away but he grabbed hold of her arm.
"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you!"
She looked at him incredulously, "Let go of me arm, Gene!"
"No, not until you 'ear what I 'ave to say!" It was now or never, he thought. He was going to have to tell her or risk losing her to that idiot forever.
"What the 'ell are you talking about?" Meg tried to wriggle out of his grip.
"You can't start seeing 'im again, Meg, you just can't."
"Since when did you become me jailer?" She demanded, "Like I've said, you're not me dad! I can do what I like!"
"Please, just listen to me…"
"You still 'aven't got over what 'appened in that interrogation 'ave you? You're still holding a grudge like some daft schoolboy!" Meg's fury was palpable.
"No…"
"That's pathetic, Gene, really pathetic!"
Fuelled by anger and jealousy and he didn't know what else, he grabbed both of her arms, causing the basket of flowers to drop onto the ground. "If you won't listen to me, you dozy tart, then I guess I'll just 'ave to show you…" He pulled her roughly to him and kissed her. Weeks of frustration exploded inside of him. Hours of desire overflowed from him. The wanting, the waiting, the aching to touch her, now all came to this one moment. The feel of her against him, of his mouth on hers, was better than he had ever anticipated.
Meg fought him for the first ten seconds, her hands on his shoulders trying to push him away from her as he pulled her closer. Then her body softened, her arms slipped around his neck and she responded to him. The feel of her, her tongue gently flicking against his, her breasts crushed against his chest...He groaned softly against her mouth and thought, for a brief moment of madness, that the car was only a few feet away. If he could just get her over to the bonnet…
The moment was abruptly lost as Meg pulled away from him and staggered backwards. She was breathing heavily, they both were, and looking at him as if she couldn't quite believe what had happened. She couldn't meet Robert now. There was no way she would go now.
"Oh my God," she said, "Oh God, what have you done?"
"What?" he asked, confused.
She lifted the flowers from the ground, "What have you done, Gene?"
"Meg…" But she didn't let him finish. She turned and ran towards the street, leaving him standing.
