Chapter 4 – Call It Fate

Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fateCarl Jung


"Good weekend?" Chas asked and then noticing the two fingers of her right hand strapped together said, "Have you been bar room brawling again, Harry?"

Dempsey chuckled.

Chas' eyebrows rose when she replied, "Close. I was in a bar when it happened but I was being impeccably well behaved."

"I don't doubt it. So, what happened?"

"Chas?!" Spikings stuck his head round the door of his office. "Got a minute?"

"His master's voice," Chas muttered. "You can fill me in later."

Silence reigned for several minutes between the partners until Dempsey peeked at her from over the top of a manilla file.

"So?"

Harry looked up. "So what?"

"On a scale of one to ten, how badly did I screw up your weekend?"

She gave a small smile, not looking at him. "Has anyone ever told you, you have an exaggerated opinion of your own importance?"

"What, is that like a seven – or an eight, maybe?"

She rummaged for something – anything - in her desk drawer as a distraction and came up with a single paperclip. Rather awkwardly, given the state of her finger, she proceeded to fix a random selection of documents together. "Am I supposed to have some idea of what you're talking about?"

She knew full well what he was talking about.

"I'm thinking I probably ain't rating too high on Richard's love-o-meter right now. Am I right?"

"Oh, because you stepped in and escorted me to hospital on Friday night?" She thought it best to play it cool.

"Yeah, that." He held a pen at either end between fingers and thumbs. "Kinda stepped in wearin' my size ten jack-boots though, didn't I? Treadin' all over his machismo."

"Did you? Maybe Richard's more comfortable with his masculinity than you give him credit for."

She leaned forward and slid the sheaf of papers she still held into the middle one of her stack of letter trays. "Or maybe…" she looked him in the eye, pushing him down with a smirk, "it simply means you're uncomfortable with yours."

Dempsey made a show of pointing a finger at his own chest, checking over first one and then the other shoulder as though searching for this mystery man to whom Makepeace might be referring.

"Who me? I'm so comfortable with it I'm horizontal – thereby proving my case, if you get my meanin'," he grinned.

"No, Dempsey, I don't believe I do. Aren't those virile, testosterone-filled days of debauchery behind you now?" she goaded.

"Not at all," he said smoothly, "just that I get to focus my bad self all on one woman now."

Harry wrinkled her nose and said with distaste, "Yeeees, lucky April."

"An' before you ask, no, she didn't have a problem, me takin' you to the emergency room. She thought it was sweet," Dempsey defended. "Oh, and according to her, I'm a true gentleman."

Harry let out a short bark of a laugh. "Ha! The poor girl's obviously delusional."

He scowled. "Thanks a bunch. Next time some douche-bag socks you in the kisser and you wind up kerbside, I'll be sure an' leave you there. Seems the only person didn't appreciate my efforts was you!"

Now she'd gone over the line and upset him.

She sighed, letting him know they should call a truce.

"Of course I appreciated what you did for me but you did rather… well… wade in and take over."

"Like I said at the time, you're my partner an' I look out for you. It was just instinct kickin' in an' if I went treading on anyone's toes then I apologise, okay?"

She frowned a little. Instinct. He really knew how to make a girl feel special. "And like I said, nobody's toes were trodden on. You see, this is what happens when you mix business with pleasure but anyway, apology accepted."

But as it happened, she was lying shamefully. She and Richard had had, if not a blazing row then a very heated discussion over the way Dempsey had commandeered the situation on Friday night. He had been furious apparently but had held his tongue, aware that anger and alcohol didn't mix and knowing there would very likely be a scene if he voiced his true opinions.

Where the bloody hell did the cocky, presumptuous American get off thinking it was acceptable to take charge like that? Dempsey was a work colleague and he, Richard was her boyfriend so wasn't it glaringly obvious who should have taken responsibility for Harry's welfare given the situation?

Harry had found herself defending Dempsey's actions to the hilt. Richard couldn't possibly understand, they weren't simply colleagues, they were partners, each entrusting the other with their lives on a daily basis. They depended on each other in a way that would be totally alien and incomprehensible in a normal working relationship. They weren't teachers or librarians for heaven's sakes, they were police officers!

It was at this point Richard questioned whether or not he was seeing the full picture. Had they ever had a relationship outside of work, Richard wanted to know.

"Yes," Harry had acknowledged with bitter sarcasm, "yes, it's been going on for quite some time and it's called a friendship."

But he wasn't settling for that. "I'll accept that you're 'just good friends' but that doesn't mean you haven't slept together."

"We haven't," she'd thrown back angrily.

"Not even once?"

"Oh, Dear God, you make it sound like I might have forgotten!"

Comatose, lobotomised, anaesthetised and deep frozen

She knew she wouldn't have done that. Never in a million years.

"I was just thinking that once might've been viewed as a silly mistake and best swept under the carpet… lest that beautiful friendship be ruined."

She was incensed.

"So, sex would explain what you see as him being over-protective but friendship doesn't?"

"It's call biology."

Harry had checked her wristwatch exaggeratedly. "I think it's possibly time you shuffled off back to your cave, isn't it? Give me a call when you've evolved sufficiently enough to re-join the 1980's."

"Ha! That's rich, Harry, seeing as he was the one beating his chest and dragging you off like some... some... Yankee-Doodle Jimber-Jaw!" he had remonstrated fiercely.

They hadn't spoken since and Harry was absolutely positive she wasn't going to make the first step towards any kind of reconciliation.

Over the days that followed Dempsey didn't mention April's name at all but then neither did Harry mention Richard's.

He'd 'phoned her on Monday night, if not exactly apologetic, at least willing to accept her point of view. She hadn't expected to feel ecstatic that he wanted to make it up with her – and she didn't. She just still had this notion that if Dempsey could sustain a relationship this long then she should be able to as well. And what would it look like in his eyes if they ended it? That he'd succeeded where she'd failed? Would he crow over his own romance? She didn't think she's be able to stomach that. If she could trip along quite merrily in what was fast becoming a long-term relationship without being in love then maybe she could make herself believe that that was what he was doing too.


"Need some advice, Makepeace," he said at the end of the working week.

They were in a sandwich bar in Clapham. It was lunchtime and they had just joined the end of a queue at the counter. She gave him an incredulous look. "You're asking me for advice?"

"I know it's hard to believe so make the most of it 'cause it's most probably a one-time thing."

She suddenly had an inkling that this could be April-related and her stomach sank. She didn't respond, waiting for him to continue.

"I'm 'err…" His head tucked slightly into his collar and he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm meeting April's parents this weekend an' I was wondering if you've got any tips, ya know, words of wisdom?"

"Is this a wind-up?"

He appeared hurt. "No, I'm serious. I wanna make a good impression."

Harry half laughed, conveying her sentiments on the absurdity of his request.

"You're a grown man! You must have met girlfriend's parents before."

"Pipe down, would ya," he growled out of the corner of his mouth, "we're havin' a private conversation here."

He moved in to stand closer to her. "Yeah, course I have but not since I've lived over here. I've never met British parents before."

Well he wouldn't have, would he. He'd been too busy sowing his wild oats to get close enough to anybody for that.

"Parents are parents the world over aren't they?" she asked, not really wanting to be having this conversation.

"I don't know, that's why I'm askin'," Dempsey bleated. "Maybe they'll be uptight over their daughter dating an American."

"Maybe they will, who knows?! Shouldn't you be talking to April about this rather than me? They're her parents, she knows them best."

"Because I'm forty, not fourteen and I need her to think I'm totally cool with it."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Harry exclaimed.

"So gimme some pointers. How would your old man react if it was you – or is he not a great example, what with him bein' a Lord an bein' a part of the British aristocracy and everythin'? Like he'd get his breeches in a twist that the bloodline would get polluted, right?"

"I really don't think that would be a concern for Freddie and I'm almost certain he'd be happy with whoever I chose to bring home to meet him because he'd respect my judgement which I'm sure April's parents will too."

"Her folks are originally from Yorkshire," he continued. "What should that say to me? Where does that sit in the class system you got goin' on in this country? Is Yorkshire the same kinda place as Herefordshire or Hampshire? I'm thinkin' you live someplace with a 'shire' at the end of the name

, you got it made. 'cause the 'shires' we got in The States, they're like, woah, big bucks, high class, rich people territory."

Harry could scarcely believe he was getting so rattled over this. Very little fazed him and certainly not 'people'.

"Well, you'll be needing your flat cap and whippet," she said for her own amusement, knowing the joke would be lost on him.

"My what?"

They had reached the front of the queue and Dempsey ordered a turkey club sandwich with extra mayo hold the onion.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," she admonished quietly.

"Whad I do?"

"Can't you just accept that the turkey club sandwich is made with a set amount of mayonnaise and comes with onions?"

"But I like mayo an' I don't want onion breath so what's the big deal?"

"Then pick the onions out! And would you ask for extra turkey?"

No, I wouldn't. That ain't how it works; you swap the small stuff, leave out what you don't want."

He called to the man who was busy making his order up. "Hey, fella! Am I right or am I right?"

The man, looking a bit harassed, said pointedly, "To be honest mate, most people take what's already there." He indicated the rows of white paper bags lying neatly stacked inside the glass fronted cabinet which formed part of the counter, "'specially when it's busy."

Dempsey looked quite grumpy. "Well, if I like my sandwich, I'll be sure and tell ALL my friends, okay?" he said peevishly.

"Just a chicken salad sandwich, please," Harry asked politely. Somehow it didn't seem appropriate to request brown bread without butter.

They took the short walk over Clapham Common to Eagle Pond where they sat on one of the benches beneath the coppice trees. It was chilly but the blue sky and weak white sunshine made it sufficiently pleasant to spend their lunch break outdoors. For a while they simply watched the ducks and swans drifting serenely upon the steely blue waters as they ate their food.

Harry enjoyed these times when minutes of companionable silence ticked by to be broken occasionally by quirky observations of their surroundings; sometimes humorous 'the meaning of life' questions would be posed other times deep and meaningful conversations took place apropos of nothing.

A magpie alighted upon the path a few yards away, its black and white plumage so sleek and stark that it seemed to almost shimmer in the sunshine.

"Good morning, Mister Magpie, how's your lovely wife?" Harry whispered under her breath.

"How's that?" asked Dempsey. "Is that from a poem or something?"

"No. I don't know really. You're supposed to say it to ward off bad luck if you happen to see a magpie on its own. They mate for life, don't they? It's unlucky not to see them as a pair."

"Cute," was all he said.

The bird hopped on a few feet and stopped again, looking around before calling.

"You think there's such a thing as soul mates, Harry?"

Instantly, the pretty tableau froze before her eyes and she felt the tranquillity of the moment ebbing away.

The piece of sandwich she was chewing refused to be swallowed as her throat seemed to seize.

"I'd very much doubt it," she replied carelessly after she'd pulled herself together. "It's only about being on the same wavelength and having common ground isn't it and there must be thousands of people in the world with whom it would be possible to make that connection," she pointed out airily.

He was completely smitten with April, wasn't he? Whatever might have been, whatever they had even, it would never be the same again. He had found a woman who meant more to him than any other ever had and his world was changing.

"You don't think fate draws people together, maybe?"

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. He was still watching the magpie too, a faint smile curving his mouth.

"But by that token, fate draws every person we ever meet, it's we as individuals who decide whether or not one particular person is of exceptional significance and surely that's down to pure, animal magnetism once common ground has been established."

He nodded and sat back, thrusting his left hand into the pocket of his jacket whilst he continued to eat his sandwich with his right.

"That's true but it has to be fate that makes that initial introduction; that allows us to meet in the first place. Like, I wound up in a foreign country to find my destiny. That has to be fate, right?"

She smiled, wryly. "I rather think it was your Captain O'Grady."

Dempsey laughed at that. "Yeah, maybe I should send him a basket of fruit and a thank you note."

He sounded so keyed up and buoyant, like he was on the verge of something exciting. She should be happy for him but she only saw him slipping away. He'd been there all along but now it was too late.

"Now that would be tempting fate, Dempsey." The attempt to inject warmth and humour into the words failed miserably and she ended up sounding depressingly negative.

But strangely that seemed to only magnify Dempsey's exuberance. He wriggled himself up so that he was sitting on the edge of his seat and grabbing at the polystyrene foam cup he'd got his tea in, raised it to Harry.

"I'm a big believer in tempting fate, Makepeace," he said with a grin. "You want something to happen bad enough, you gotta make sure you got all the cards in your hand and do whatever it takes to get the gods smilin' on you."