Hi, this is bowling along way faster at the moment than I was expecting it too, so here is the next part! Enjoy!
Jessie xx
IV
"Ah, here we are," the AC bore announced cheerfully. Did he know? Mentally, I shook my head; no he was just a twit. She turned around as she heard his voice, her eyes met mine and shot away just as quickly, darting first to the window, to the door, then focussing on the idiot next to me. "Deputy Assistant Commissioner Robert Strickland, this is Detective –"
"Detective Superintendent Sandra Pullman," I finished for him without meaning to. It's like I wanted to make it quite clear that I knew where the gates of Hell were and I certainly didn't need directions from him. Ok, gates of Hell being a little too strong; I don't think she ever wanted to torture me endlessly in a burning pit of fire. Even if that's how it felt for a short while. And I mean a short while; most of the time, well all of it really until the last few months, that we'd shared had been… good seemed so insignificant, wonderful.
"Yes, indeed, well, clearly you've done your homework, I'll leave you to it."
Finally he was gone. Leaving me standing alone in a room full of people staring like an ignoramus at the woman in front of me. I should probably speak first.
"Done your homework? Your mother would be proud," she said in a way that managed to be both sarcastic and flirtatious. And meant that she'd spoken first. Damn.
"I always did my homework," I protested. Great, now I even sounded like the stupid teenager I had been when we'd first met. "Sandra…"
"Robert?" what the hell did he want now? "Sorry to interrupt, I'd just like to introduce Yvonne to the Detective Superintendent. Sandra, this is…"
I listened to the sound of her voice and drank in every article I could categorise about her while the introductions were carried out and the hapless loon I was going to have to report to for the rest of my days thankfully vanished again. Knowing that she could probably feel my eyes boring into her like a laser (great, now I have a superhero complex…), I forced my gaze away to see if there was an appropriate window I could jump out of; wall to bash my head against; cold shower to run into (though why they'd have thought to put one of those in the mess hall I really don't know); or person of little or preferably no interest that I could be distracted by. There was not.
"And, er, this initiative has been very successful apparently…"
Luckily I tuned back into their conversation at the right moment. This woman was likely to let the cat out of the bag any minute that I wanted UCOS to reinvestigate her husband's death.
"Well we've been very fortunate – " Sandra began in a diplomatic tone. She was always too modest. I'd read all about UCOS (and the dog), so the dimwit-bore wasn't entirely wrong when he said I'd done my homework; UCOS was probably the most successful unit that was running at the moment. Consistently successful too. So I interrupted her.
"Superintendent Pullman is being unnecessarily modest. UCOS' clear up rate has been tremendous," I'm not so sure that interrupting her was such a good thing to do. She'd never liked that. Damn. I was making more of a mess of this than I'd imagined possible. Though how I had imagined the reuniting going, I have no idea because every time I thought about it, my legs turned to jelly, my voice rose three octaves and I was standing in the school assembly hall one break time squawking that I really liked the colour of her hair. Smooth, I was always smooth.
"Mr Strickland thought that the rest of your team might have been here."
This woman had a very pointy voice. At this moment in time she definitely represented our old drama teacher, Mrs. Thinly; who during that first like-the-colour-of-your-hair conversation had seen fit to walk past and inform me that my form tutor thought I might have liked to remember that I had a lunchtime detention with him. Which made me look even less smooth than I had been successfully avoiding until her intrusion. Interestingly, it was Sandra who seemed to stumble in response to the remark this time.
"Yes," she said in a way that could only have been described as desperately-trying-to-think-of-a-good-way-to-say-i t. "I suspect they've had trouble getting away from a prior engagement."
She'd have gotten away for it too, if it hadn't been for the sudden shout that I think the West Midland division probably heard.
"ROSSY!"
"Excuse me, I'll be right back," Sandra said hastily and made an escape in the direction of the sound.
I found myself smiling awkwardly at Yvonne, who was reminding me more and more of Mrs. Thinly by the minute. She was clearly wondering if I'd be spinning her a line about UCOS. She'd have been right to think it too; after all, I hadn't worked with them yet, how did I know that they were any good? Because I knew Sandra. Only, pointy-voice lady for one didn't need to know that. Sandra made her way back to us with three men whose faces I recognised from their records in tow. One of whom gave me a very knowing look, as if he knew me too. Or something about me. Well, they'd probably read up too. Sandra introduced the rest of her team to us, and I shook their hands in turn.
"Thanks you for coming," I said. "I just want to say how pleased I am to be taking over at UCOS. I've been very impressed with your achievements up to now; and I'm looking forward to working with you. I think its going to be a very exciting time."
This went down like the lead balloon it sounded like. At that moment though I managed to spot an escape; it wasn't a cold shower (I didn't need one by now, that look…), or a brick wall or a window. It was one of the officers from the front desk signalling that I had a phone call to take. I couldn't have planned it better.
"Excuse me," I smiled, though half of me wanted to grin like a loon and hop skip and jump out of the room, and the other half of me still would have preferred the brick wall or the window, and slipped away through the crowd.
She hadn't changed. I was sure of it. She was professional, smart and on-guard. But her voice still sounded the same, her eyes still looked the same, and the way she made me feel… maybe I could that under control for the next time we spoke so that I didn't sound like a petulant teenager. Which would be hard, because one thing had changed, she wasn't with me any more. There was a pride and protectiveness in someone else's eyes now when they looked at her. I know, because he looked daggers at me.