Hello all!
So Camille's character decided to take me down a path I didn't expect in this chapter. I read back and think her comments on the subject in earlier chapters are obtuse enough that I have got away with it but please tell me if you disagree, and I will have words with her. ;-)
I haven't managed to reply individually to my lovely reviewers in ch9 so will do so now:
MuggleCreator – isn't that the point – that it's slow? The beauty and pain of the first two series was all about the slowness IMHO. I want them to hurry up too, but they do seem to like going off on a tangent.
Willowsticks – thanks for your constant support. To be fair, Camille is usually up for any challenge so Dwayne could be excused this time.
Guest – Maybe there will be quite a few who would like to be taught. That would teach her!
Virginie31 – I haven't forgotten, don't worry. You might feel it's a bit lame but more explanations will come.
MM – Your support is always so appreciated. :D
Surprises 10: Admissions
Richard wasn't sure how long it took for his brain to start producing coherent words and thoughts again. When the cogs started whirring, images of dancing on the ice with Camille filled the inner lining of his eyelids. Pulling her to him, twirling her around him in graceful flowing movements.
Pretending, he corrected himself firmly. He was pretending to teach her and that was assuming she agreed in the first place. Was she a good skater? He mused.
"It's a good idea." Catherine spoke.
"Not sure your girl agrees." Dwayne nodded at the still swinging door, the corners of his mouth quirking knowingly despite his words.
"Oh give her time. She'll calm down." She smiled, and then grimaced as realisation struck. "Camille has the car!"
"Damn!" The bus ride had been particularly long, hot and unpleasant today and the thought had occurred to Richard that the silver lining to his team following him had been the possibility of a faster ride home.
His rarely expressed expletive had his companions briefly staring at him then the three of them rose, following the direction Camille had taken moments before.
Fully expecting to be faced with an empty car park, Richard was surprised to see the Defender sat in a parking space, Camille's dark head, just evident, resting atop her hands on the steering wheel.
He glanced across at Dwayne who raised both hands, understanding what his boss was wanting. "Hey man. I've done my bit."
Richard turned back to look at Catherine who merely shook her head with a kindly expression and gestured him forwards with her hands so he took a deep breath, and then stepped towards the Defender, stirring strong memories of the last time they had got into this vehicle together in this car park.
Leaning forward, he gently rapped on the glass of the passenger side window to gather her attention, before opening the door a foot.
"I suppose you want a lift back to Honore?"
He frowned, couldn't work out the tone in her voice. "Erm. Well, yes please."
"Well get in then." She raised her voice. "Maman! Are you coming?"
Dwayne, stood with Catherine a few steps away from the Land Rover looked at his friend. "You could always ride back in style with me?"
Catherine hesitated, weighing up her options then shook her head." No thank you Dwayne. I will rely on my daughter and Richard here to see me home safely."
The drive back across the island was quiet if not peaceful. Catherine attempted to exchange a few pleasantries, without much success whilst Richard sat focused on his hands in the back. Having caught Camille's eyes twice in the rearview mirror sending an embarrassed heat rushing through his body, he felt it was better to wait until she decided or wanted to speak.
That decision came much later in the evening. Richard had been delivered home, had showered and changed into his pajamas and was tidying up Harry's mashed mango and bug supper, sighing occasionally and slanting looks at his mobile as if it held all the answers. No new e-mails, texts or missed phone calls.
The knock on the window frame caught him by surprise, more so when it was accompanied by a pensive looking Camille.
He directed her in with a tilt of his head but she stayed hovering on the threshold.
"It really is the most obvious solution isn't it."
"Yes."
"Well I'm not sure I'll be much help."
"That's ridiculous. You're an excellent Police Officer." Richard caught her faint smile at his unthinking compliment.
"Thing is….."
"Yes?" he questioned, wondering at her unusual hesitations.
"I hate the ice."
"What?" Her words did not immediately compute.
"I….."
He cut off her attempted reiteration. "But you described skating in Paris?"
"I described the sights and sounds around me. Concentrated on the beauty, not my own feelings taking part." She breathed heavily, turning to sit on the top step, her gaze unfocused on the black ocean ahead of her.
Richard looked down at himself, then grabbed the days discarded work shirt to sit on and joined her on his verandah.
Camille spoke without looking at him. "I'm not very good at skating. The thought of falling on that cold hard surface and then someone slicing my fingers off terrifies me."
"I don't understand."
"Well it's not difficult…" she snapped back.
"No, I mean….." He looked across at her, her skin soft in the night's shadows, hands clasped together and thick dark hair cascading down her back. She was letting him in; needed his help. Not with just the usual chitchat and worries for the day but about things that were personal to her. His heart missed a beat but he swallowed hard and continued. "What I mean to say is you seem to be so talented. I didn't think that there was anything you couldn't do."
She turned to look at him, her eyes shiny. "Thank you Richard," she whispered.
His sentence seemed to be enough for now. He smiled shyly back, holding her gaze until a skittering behind; Harry or some nocturnal bird, he wasn't sure, returned him to the present. Clearing his throat he braced his hands on his knees and pushed up into standing.
"I can help if you'll let me."
She nodded, standing up herself, stealing a look behind him at the half open door then backing down a step towards the beach. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight Camille."
Richard moved inside, closing the doors slowly as he watched the graceful silhouette pick her way along the shoreline until she faded into the dark.
Fingers fumbling, Camille cursed as she failed for the second time to tie a bow in the skating boots Tiny had silently handed her. Awkward and restrictive with the large shiny blade glinting beneath, she loathed them. Almost as much as she loathed everyone who thought this was a good idea.
"They look good on you."
She pulled her head up to glare through her hair at her DI who was stood in front of her, then tempered her gaze. It wasn't his fault and he was trying so hard to make her feel comfortable.
"They don't feel it," she grumbled.
"Look at it this way, the height and rigidity of them will protect your ankles and at least they won't smell as bad as normal hire boots."
"But the place has only just opened. Surely all the boots are as good as new?"
"Don't you believe it, it only takes one customer with less than decent hygiene!"
Camille wrinkled her nose. It didn't bear thinking about. Finishing the bow, she put her hands on her knees and inhaled.
"Ready?"
She nodded.
Richard reached a hand out to clasp hers, pulling her to her feet. "Let's get you skating then."
Caught up in the feeling of his broad hand holding hers firmly, and the expectation that any minute now he would let go, her hobbling walk from the changing area to the ice went unnoticed. Richard didn't hesitate as the surface changed, merely moved forward determinedly sliding an arm around her back to grasp her waist and hold her to him lest she fell.
A pleasant shiver ran between her shoulder blades and the thought ran through her mind that he must have been spending time reading self help books such was the surety of his behavior. Remaining silent, Richard guided her on long loops of the rink. Camille's head was spinning, adrenaline pumping. She was caught between the stress of the unfamiliar slipperiness of the surface beneath her and her bambi-like uncoordinated movements upon it, and the feelings and physical reactions that the proximity of her boss was inducing within.
He was skating much more slowly than when she had followed him here the day before, had it been only yesterday? Yet he glided across the ice so smoothly. If she had not felt so hurt that he hadn't told her of his hidden skill then she would surely have spent time just watching him. Her hatred of the activity had never extended to the point where she couldn't admire those who had a mastery of it.
She could feel his grace transmitted to her through their joined hips, his thighs flexing and relaxing against her as they moved. She remained pinned tightly to him by the strength of his arm around her waist and their right hands joined in front.
He made her feel safe…and a million other emotions that she wasn't sure she ought to be experiencing. When had that happened? It was true that he had dominated her thoughts for months now, but often anger and impatience had been the dominant feeling, followed by a mild triumphalism when he responded to her friendly flirting.
On the ice, here and now; him looking after her as she had only ever seen him do with victims during their work before now, no hesitance or shyness evident. And despite her knowledge that he hadn't yet told her why she had been kept in the dark about the case, she was willing to confess that anger was not one of the myriad of sensations flooding through her body.
Nor fear of the ice.
For the avoidance of doubt... Camille has never told her mother about her fear.