A/N: Betaed by Jen, Little Dorritt and Kaatje.
Part Fifty Nine
As Neil parked his car, and strolled purposefully through the doors of Cleland House, the home of the headquarters of the prison service, he couldn't help but reflect on the conversation he'd had with Di. He still marveled at the underhand way she'd given those pictures of Karen to the prosecution in the Lauren Atkins case. But then, why was he really quite so surprised? Di Barker always had been a treacherous, malicious, narcissistic bitch. Why he'd ever become involved with her, never mind married her, he didn't know. He faintly smiled as he thought of how Karen had insisted that she wasn't having Di back on her wing. "Over her dead body", were the words she'd used. Neil was forced to admit that he'd been wrong about Karen. Right from the start, he'd dismissed Karen as a colleague, as a very competent wing governor, and most of all, as a friend. He'd behaved abominably towards her, if he was honest with himself, and all because of Jim bloody Fenner. Well, if he could fancy someone as corrupt as Jim Fenner, then he could hardly castigate Karen for having slept with an Atkins or two. He had to admire her most recent acquisition though. The female species might not excite him sexually, but he could still appreciate their finer points, as he might a painting or a piece of music. Ms Channing was not only beautiful, highly intelligent, and with a PhD in fighting her corner, but she had absolutely no connection with Karen's job. Neil had once warned Fenner that "Shagging the staff," really wasn't a good idea, but then he'd been caught out by that one himself. This meant that he could well appreciate why Karen might finally have opted for an affair with someone wholly unconnected to Larkhall. He'd heard on the grapevine, that Ms Channing had been giving Karen some unofficial company on the night Buki Lester had tried to kill herself, but he hadn't seen any point in raising the issue. Her presence hadn't prevented Karen from doing her job in a professional and satisfactory manner. In fact, in this case, it had been of inestimable help. If Karen really had been on her own, Buki Lester would have died. So, here he was, about to make up for all the times he'd backed Fenner over Karen. He was also here, to make sure that Larkhall would be left in safe, secure, and above all, sensitive hands after he was gone, because leave he would. He had been offered a job with area management, and in a very short time, would be moving on to pastures new.
When he was sitting in Alison Warner's office, sipping from a cup of really quite excellent espresso coffee, he vowed never to be stuck working for area management as long as this woman had been. For him, area management was merely a stepping stone, a necessary causeway to lead him on to bigger and better things. "So, Mr. Grayling," Mrs. Warner began in the rich, cultured tones that had slightly quailed under George's threat of two weeks before. "I hear that you will be joining us very soon." "Yes, if everything goes to plan," Grayling answered politely. It would never do to antagonise his future boss, and he loathed small talk, but in the game of onwards and upwards, it was becoming a recognised skill. The day would come when no government department would employ you, if you weren't proficient in this little necessity. "This does, however, leave us with the problem of your successor. You haven't left us much of a window, to find a suitable replacement." "It was this department, and therefore you, who decided that I should leave Larkhall and transfer here by the beginning of April," Grayling said silkily. "Point taken," Alison Warner conceded. "But what we need to discuss, is who we might approach with a view to taking over Larkhall. Both of your predecessors weren't exactly successful. Simon Stubberfield's disgraceful lack of control over the running of his own prison, followed by Helen Stewart's inexplicable departure, after only a matter of months. I must make it clear, that I do not wish Larkhall to descend into the organisational chaos it was in prior to your appointment." "Mrs. Warner," Neil cut in, wanting to stem the rant before she really got going. "If you take up my recommendation, Larkhall couldn't possibly be in safer hands." "I'm listening," she replied, not committing herself until she'd heard his suggestion. "Karen Betts, the current governor of G wing." "Quite out of the question," Alison Warner answered tartly. "Might I remind you, that Karen Betts was supposedly in charge of G wing, when three inmates successfully escaped? To say nothing of the murder of Virginia O'Kane, or Snowball Merriman's bomb." "They were a tragic set of circumstances, quite beyond her control." "Mr. Grayling, Karen Betts has equal responsibility for the running of her wing, as you do for the running of Larkhall. If Karen Betts is the best you can come up with, then I can see I shall have to look elsewhere." Taking a deep breath to bring his frustration with this uncommonly thick woman under control, he spoke slowly and carefully. "In the matter of the three escapees, was it not area management who, in the interests of keeping your nose clean with the press, quickly and quietly removed Simon Stubberfield, making him the most dispensable scapegoat, and therefore failing utterly to investigate the incident in a satisfactory manner?" Alison Warner recoiled as if she'd been slapped. Only two weeks prior to this meeting, she had yet again been reminded of the bungled investigation, that had taken place after the escape of three of Larkhall's most dangerous inmates. Neil Grayling and George Channing couldn't possibly have any connection, could they? It just wasn't possible. "That being so," She continued in a far more conciliatory fashion, "I uphold the opinion that she would not be a suitable governing governor. She would have to sit a promotion board for a start, and you know how long they take." "So, you've got the power to speed up the process, and you can take my word for it that you won't find anyone as willing to take on Larkhall as Karen Betts would be. There you have a very competent, grade four governor, just waiting for the promotion and the opportunity to show the entire prison service exactly what she's made of. Karen Betts has been itching to spread her wings for months now. Ignore my recommendation, and you'll lose her for good one of these days, and with the prison service being in the state it is, that's hardly something you can afford." "What about the other Wing Governors at Larkhall?" She asked, not in the least willing to give up the fight until all other avenues had been explored. "No," Neil replied firmly. "They just don't have what it takes. Believe me," He said earnestly, "Karen Betts has the potential to go far in the service. Give her the freedom and the opportunity, and she'll make Larkhall a prison the service could be proud of. I've done my best to keep Larkhall on an even keel, but Karen Betts has the drive, the vision, and the energy to make Larkhall a better place for all concerned, inmates and officers alike." "You're not going to give in, until you've at least achieved her a promotion board, are you?" Alison Warner couldn't help saying with a thin smile. She could remember when this man had been applying for the job of governor of Larkhall. He had possessed a vision, and had exuded an energy to transform Larkhall into a model prison, to bring it forward into the twenty first century. She briefly wondered where all that had gone. "Karen Betts has brought G wing through some of the most taxing and tragic events ever witnessed in women's prisons," He continued, persistently pressing at the chink in her armour. "And the service owes it to her, to give her the opportunity to realise her full potential."
On the Monday evening, Jo and John were spending some time together, not having seen each other alone since the end of the Lauren Atkins trial. Jo had cooked them dinner, and now they were lying contentedly on the sofa, listening to some soft music, just enjoying the simple pleasure of being in each other's arms. No conversation was necessary when they were like this, both of them appreciating some quiet time, a space in their busy lives for some 'Them' time. But John couldn't entirely relax. What he'd so rashly said to Karen last Monday wasn't giving him any respite. He knew he'd been wrong, and he was sorry for it, really he was. But John Deed found it inexplicably hard to admit that he was wrong, and, even more impossible to say he was sorry. Jo could sense that his thoughts were somewhere else. She hadn't known him all these years, not to be able to tell when something wasn't quite right. "You're very quiet tonight," She said softly, wanting him to share what was bothering him. "It'll sort itself out in time," He said, not really wanting to tell her what he'd done. "Is this about the argument you had with Karen last week?" John could have cursed her intuition on occasions such as this. "How do you know we argued?" He asked, but Jo wasn't fooled by his attempt at a diversion. "George asked her if you two had, 'kissed and made up', I think she put it. She looked like she could have kicked herself when she said that," Jo added with a fond smile. "And Karen said that you'd shouted at each other. I don't know what you said to her John, but I think you hurt her." "Yeah, you could say that," He said regretfully. "You know me Jo, say or do something first, and regret it afterwards." Jo looked concerned. "What on earth did you say to her? George tried to find out, but Karen told her it was best left forgotten." John was touched. Even in her anger at him, Karen refused to share his misdeed with anyone else. "You don't really want to know," He said evasively, only serving to make Jo all the more curious. "Tell me," She persisted gently, seeing that he needed to confess it to someone. "I said that I didn't want to have to pick up the pieces, when she got bored of playing instructor." "Oh, John!" Jo said angrily, half sitting up. "You wanted to know," He protested, pulling her back down to lie in his arms. "John, even for you, that's unfair. No, I'll rephrase that, especially for you, that's unfair. You do realise that such a description might have been attributed to you not so long ago?" "Yes, yes, I know," He said sulkily. "I know it was wrong, and I know it was utterly unforgivable." "Did you apologise to her?" "Of course I did." "But did you mean it? Or did you say it, to stop her walking away, just as you've often done with me?" "Of course I meant it," He said indignantly. "Well, I did later on, when I'd thought about it." "Do you see what I mean?" Jo said in total disgust. "John, your apologies are about as meaningful as all the flings you used to have. You can't say something like that, and expect to be immediately forgiven, just because you say the right words. You need to mean it for it to be believed." "So, what do you suggest I do about it?" He asked, refusing to see the answer that was under his very nose. "Go and see her, and really, seriously apologise. It's the very least you can do. John, you accused Karen of being exactly what you used to be, which she isn't." "How do you know?" He niggled away like the proverbial adolescent, determined to have the last word. "John, you can't act like this, just because you feel jealous and insecure," Jo insisted, her tone a lot gentler now. "I'm not jealous!" He protested, hating the way she could see right through him. "Yes, you are," Jo said with a soft smile. "And feeling like that is perfectly understandable. But saying the first rash thing that comes into your head, isn't," she finished more sternly. "So, when you have a moment in your busy schedule, go and see her, and apologise. It's really not that difficult, I promise you." "Yes, I will," He said, wanting to shut her up on this. "Soon, I promise." "I mean it, John," She insisted, knowing of old how much most of his promises were really worth. "Yes, all right, I will," He affirmed, though not looking forward to it in the slightest.
Part Fifty Nine
As Neil parked his car, and strolled purposefully through the doors of Cleland House, the home of the headquarters of the prison service, he couldn't help but reflect on the conversation he'd had with Di. He still marveled at the underhand way she'd given those pictures of Karen to the prosecution in the Lauren Atkins case. But then, why was he really quite so surprised? Di Barker always had been a treacherous, malicious, narcissistic bitch. Why he'd ever become involved with her, never mind married her, he didn't know. He faintly smiled as he thought of how Karen had insisted that she wasn't having Di back on her wing. "Over her dead body", were the words she'd used. Neil was forced to admit that he'd been wrong about Karen. Right from the start, he'd dismissed Karen as a colleague, as a very competent wing governor, and most of all, as a friend. He'd behaved abominably towards her, if he was honest with himself, and all because of Jim bloody Fenner. Well, if he could fancy someone as corrupt as Jim Fenner, then he could hardly castigate Karen for having slept with an Atkins or two. He had to admire her most recent acquisition though. The female species might not excite him sexually, but he could still appreciate their finer points, as he might a painting or a piece of music. Ms Channing was not only beautiful, highly intelligent, and with a PhD in fighting her corner, but she had absolutely no connection with Karen's job. Neil had once warned Fenner that "Shagging the staff," really wasn't a good idea, but then he'd been caught out by that one himself. This meant that he could well appreciate why Karen might finally have opted for an affair with someone wholly unconnected to Larkhall. He'd heard on the grapevine, that Ms Channing had been giving Karen some unofficial company on the night Buki Lester had tried to kill herself, but he hadn't seen any point in raising the issue. Her presence hadn't prevented Karen from doing her job in a professional and satisfactory manner. In fact, in this case, it had been of inestimable help. If Karen really had been on her own, Buki Lester would have died. So, here he was, about to make up for all the times he'd backed Fenner over Karen. He was also here, to make sure that Larkhall would be left in safe, secure, and above all, sensitive hands after he was gone, because leave he would. He had been offered a job with area management, and in a very short time, would be moving on to pastures new.
When he was sitting in Alison Warner's office, sipping from a cup of really quite excellent espresso coffee, he vowed never to be stuck working for area management as long as this woman had been. For him, area management was merely a stepping stone, a necessary causeway to lead him on to bigger and better things. "So, Mr. Grayling," Mrs. Warner began in the rich, cultured tones that had slightly quailed under George's threat of two weeks before. "I hear that you will be joining us very soon." "Yes, if everything goes to plan," Grayling answered politely. It would never do to antagonise his future boss, and he loathed small talk, but in the game of onwards and upwards, it was becoming a recognised skill. The day would come when no government department would employ you, if you weren't proficient in this little necessity. "This does, however, leave us with the problem of your successor. You haven't left us much of a window, to find a suitable replacement." "It was this department, and therefore you, who decided that I should leave Larkhall and transfer here by the beginning of April," Grayling said silkily. "Point taken," Alison Warner conceded. "But what we need to discuss, is who we might approach with a view to taking over Larkhall. Both of your predecessors weren't exactly successful. Simon Stubberfield's disgraceful lack of control over the running of his own prison, followed by Helen Stewart's inexplicable departure, after only a matter of months. I must make it clear, that I do not wish Larkhall to descend into the organisational chaos it was in prior to your appointment." "Mrs. Warner," Neil cut in, wanting to stem the rant before she really got going. "If you take up my recommendation, Larkhall couldn't possibly be in safer hands." "I'm listening," she replied, not committing herself until she'd heard his suggestion. "Karen Betts, the current governor of G wing." "Quite out of the question," Alison Warner answered tartly. "Might I remind you, that Karen Betts was supposedly in charge of G wing, when three inmates successfully escaped? To say nothing of the murder of Virginia O'Kane, or Snowball Merriman's bomb." "They were a tragic set of circumstances, quite beyond her control." "Mr. Grayling, Karen Betts has equal responsibility for the running of her wing, as you do for the running of Larkhall. If Karen Betts is the best you can come up with, then I can see I shall have to look elsewhere." Taking a deep breath to bring his frustration with this uncommonly thick woman under control, he spoke slowly and carefully. "In the matter of the three escapees, was it not area management who, in the interests of keeping your nose clean with the press, quickly and quietly removed Simon Stubberfield, making him the most dispensable scapegoat, and therefore failing utterly to investigate the incident in a satisfactory manner?" Alison Warner recoiled as if she'd been slapped. Only two weeks prior to this meeting, she had yet again been reminded of the bungled investigation, that had taken place after the escape of three of Larkhall's most dangerous inmates. Neil Grayling and George Channing couldn't possibly have any connection, could they? It just wasn't possible. "That being so," She continued in a far more conciliatory fashion, "I uphold the opinion that she would not be a suitable governing governor. She would have to sit a promotion board for a start, and you know how long they take." "So, you've got the power to speed up the process, and you can take my word for it that you won't find anyone as willing to take on Larkhall as Karen Betts would be. There you have a very competent, grade four governor, just waiting for the promotion and the opportunity to show the entire prison service exactly what she's made of. Karen Betts has been itching to spread her wings for months now. Ignore my recommendation, and you'll lose her for good one of these days, and with the prison service being in the state it is, that's hardly something you can afford." "What about the other Wing Governors at Larkhall?" She asked, not in the least willing to give up the fight until all other avenues had been explored. "No," Neil replied firmly. "They just don't have what it takes. Believe me," He said earnestly, "Karen Betts has the potential to go far in the service. Give her the freedom and the opportunity, and she'll make Larkhall a prison the service could be proud of. I've done my best to keep Larkhall on an even keel, but Karen Betts has the drive, the vision, and the energy to make Larkhall a better place for all concerned, inmates and officers alike." "You're not going to give in, until you've at least achieved her a promotion board, are you?" Alison Warner couldn't help saying with a thin smile. She could remember when this man had been applying for the job of governor of Larkhall. He had possessed a vision, and had exuded an energy to transform Larkhall into a model prison, to bring it forward into the twenty first century. She briefly wondered where all that had gone. "Karen Betts has brought G wing through some of the most taxing and tragic events ever witnessed in women's prisons," He continued, persistently pressing at the chink in her armour. "And the service owes it to her, to give her the opportunity to realise her full potential."
On the Monday evening, Jo and John were spending some time together, not having seen each other alone since the end of the Lauren Atkins trial. Jo had cooked them dinner, and now they were lying contentedly on the sofa, listening to some soft music, just enjoying the simple pleasure of being in each other's arms. No conversation was necessary when they were like this, both of them appreciating some quiet time, a space in their busy lives for some 'Them' time. But John couldn't entirely relax. What he'd so rashly said to Karen last Monday wasn't giving him any respite. He knew he'd been wrong, and he was sorry for it, really he was. But John Deed found it inexplicably hard to admit that he was wrong, and, even more impossible to say he was sorry. Jo could sense that his thoughts were somewhere else. She hadn't known him all these years, not to be able to tell when something wasn't quite right. "You're very quiet tonight," She said softly, wanting him to share what was bothering him. "It'll sort itself out in time," He said, not really wanting to tell her what he'd done. "Is this about the argument you had with Karen last week?" John could have cursed her intuition on occasions such as this. "How do you know we argued?" He asked, but Jo wasn't fooled by his attempt at a diversion. "George asked her if you two had, 'kissed and made up', I think she put it. She looked like she could have kicked herself when she said that," Jo added with a fond smile. "And Karen said that you'd shouted at each other. I don't know what you said to her John, but I think you hurt her." "Yeah, you could say that," He said regretfully. "You know me Jo, say or do something first, and regret it afterwards." Jo looked concerned. "What on earth did you say to her? George tried to find out, but Karen told her it was best left forgotten." John was touched. Even in her anger at him, Karen refused to share his misdeed with anyone else. "You don't really want to know," He said evasively, only serving to make Jo all the more curious. "Tell me," She persisted gently, seeing that he needed to confess it to someone. "I said that I didn't want to have to pick up the pieces, when she got bored of playing instructor." "Oh, John!" Jo said angrily, half sitting up. "You wanted to know," He protested, pulling her back down to lie in his arms. "John, even for you, that's unfair. No, I'll rephrase that, especially for you, that's unfair. You do realise that such a description might have been attributed to you not so long ago?" "Yes, yes, I know," He said sulkily. "I know it was wrong, and I know it was utterly unforgivable." "Did you apologise to her?" "Of course I did." "But did you mean it? Or did you say it, to stop her walking away, just as you've often done with me?" "Of course I meant it," He said indignantly. "Well, I did later on, when I'd thought about it." "Do you see what I mean?" Jo said in total disgust. "John, your apologies are about as meaningful as all the flings you used to have. You can't say something like that, and expect to be immediately forgiven, just because you say the right words. You need to mean it for it to be believed." "So, what do you suggest I do about it?" He asked, refusing to see the answer that was under his very nose. "Go and see her, and really, seriously apologise. It's the very least you can do. John, you accused Karen of being exactly what you used to be, which she isn't." "How do you know?" He niggled away like the proverbial adolescent, determined to have the last word. "John, you can't act like this, just because you feel jealous and insecure," Jo insisted, her tone a lot gentler now. "I'm not jealous!" He protested, hating the way she could see right through him. "Yes, you are," Jo said with a soft smile. "And feeling like that is perfectly understandable. But saying the first rash thing that comes into your head, isn't," she finished more sternly. "So, when you have a moment in your busy schedule, go and see her, and apologise. It's really not that difficult, I promise you." "Yes, I will," He said, wanting to shut her up on this. "Soon, I promise." "I mean it, John," She insisted, knowing of old how much most of his promises were really worth. "Yes, all right, I will," He affirmed, though not looking forward to it in the slightest.