A/N: Betaed by Little dorritt and Jen.
Part Sixty-Five
Karen had planned to spend the Friday evening and hopefully the night, with George. Karen would be cooking, which meant they would be in her flat for a change. She was perfectly well aware that neither her living space, nor her cooking, could ever come up to George's standard, but that didn't matter. It was a rainy and freezing February night, and they would be warm and content in her flat, which was really all they seemed to need. George arrived just after seven with a bottle of red wine, which provided a perfect accompaniment to the chicken casserole Karen had thrown together. She was pleased to see that George ate a good-sized helping of the very warming, pretty filling dish. They washed up, and were sitting snugly close on the sofa, drinking the Merlot and listening to some soft music, when the phone rang. Karen ignored it at first, letting the answer phone take it for her. But when she heard Dominic's voice, telling her to pick up, she did. "I am here," She said, switching on the cordless to interrupt his message. "Thank god for that," He said, sounding relieved. "You know I was supposed to be doing the night shift with Gina?" "Yes," Karen replied, not liking where her thoughts were taking her. "I can't do it." "Why the bloody hell not?" Karen demanded. "I've got food poisoning." "Dominic, is this real food poisoning, or Sylvia's kind of food poisoning, just in time for the weekend." "Come on, Karen," He insisted. "You know me better than that." "Yes, I know. I'm sorry. But you could have let me know before now. You're on duty in less than an hour," She said, glancing at her watch. "I thought it would be gone by tonight, but there's no way I'd be any use to anyone." "You do realise, that Colin, Selena, Sylvia and Paula, have all been on duty all day, and so can't cover for you?" "Could you do it?" He asked tentatively. "Shit, Dominic," Karen said in alarm. "I've been drinking." "How much have you had?" "About half a bottle of red wine." "Oh, that's nothing for you," Dominic said confidently. "Dominic, your faith in my tolerance of alcohol is commendable, but I just hope you're right. Just because Fenner used to periodically drink on duty, does not mean that Grayling would thank me for doing the same." "So you'll do it?" "I don't have any choice, do I?"
When she'd replaced the receiver, she turned to George with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, but I expect you got the gist of that." "Your staff don't know when they're well off," Was George's only comment. "I didn't know this was going to happen," Karen said quietly, feeling unutterably guilty, even though she knew she had nothing to feel guilty about. "I know," George said, trying to hide her disappointment and failing. "If there was the remotest possibility of an alternative, I wouldn't be doing this," Karen insisted. "That's the point though, isn't it?" George said in slight irritation. "There ought to be an alternative for a situation like this, and you shouldn't have to do it." "I'll have to phone Gina," Karen said, wanting to change the subject a little. "She can pick me up. I'm not losing my licence in the midst of waiting for a promotion." After phoning Gina and putting her in the picture, Karen made herself a cup of very strong coffee, in an attempt to sober up slightly, though she didn't in any way feel incapable of doing her job. "Do you mind if I stay?" George asked, not really wanting to go back home to her empty house. "Because you're not the only one who's had a little too much to drive." "No, of course I don't mind," Karen said, putting her arms round her. "You can keep the bed warm for me. I'll hopefully be back some time early tomorrow morning, but you never know." "I wish you didn't have to do this," George said quietly. "I know," Karen responded, gently kissing her. "But when all else fails on my wing, I draw the short straw. That's how it's always been, and I suspect that's how it always will be. That's what my life consists of, Larkhall taking up the vast majority of my time. If I can fit in a beautiful, funny, argumentative, stubborn and at times addictive, woman, then I do. But just occasionally, she may have to play second fiddle to my job. That's not how I want it, but for the moment, that's how it is." Karen had said all this in a calm, gentle but firm voice. George turned her gaze away from Karen, not wanting her to see the brief tears that had risen to her eyes. She felt utterly stupid. She knew that Karen's job always had done and probably always would come first, and she knew that she had absolutely no right to demand more of Karen, than Karen was prepared to give. Karen didn't say anything for the time being, because she knew that George was finding this all a little difficult to deal with, but when the doorbell rang, she turned George's face back to her. "If I can get home earlier than planned, then I will." "I'm sorry," George said in a slightly strangled voice as they kissed each other. "I know," Karen said softly.
When Karen dropped into the passenger seat of Gina's car, she said, "Thanks for this." "That's okay," Gina replied as she started the engine. Then, taking a closer look at Karen's face, she said, "Apart from the red wine, are you all right?" "Not really," Karen found herself admitting. "This job doesn't do much for the home life, does it?" "No," Gina agreed ruefully. "Was that George's car in your driveway?" "Yes, and I don't think I'm going to be forgiven for occasionally having to put my job first." "The thing is," Gina clarified, "Even though someone like her, or the Judge, or that other barrister, the one who defended Lauren Atkins, might do a bloody hard job, it's still only got a nine to five, or Monday to Friday level of commitment. This kind of job, like nursing I suppose, isn't just a way of earning a living, it's a vocation, a way of life, and if you're destined to work in a job like this, it's going to take over your life from time to time. That's just how it works. If you're not prepared for that from the start, you'll never last the course." "That's pretty much what I said at my interview last week," Karen said with a smile. "Well, there you are then. Your commitment to your job is something George and whoever else, is just going to have to get used too." "Did you find it easier, being in a relationship with someone who did the same job as you?" Karen asked, clearly referring to Mark. "No way," Gina said scornfully. "It was a bloody nightmare. But then you'd know that, after constantly being caught in the rows between Fenner and Helen Stewart." Karen neither acknowledged nor denied this assertion. They didn't speak again on their drive to Larkhall, Karen being lost in her thoughts, and Gina wondering if she'd said too much.
When they walked into the officers' room on G wing, they found Sylvia and Colin maintaining a stony silence. "Oh, where's Dominic?" Asked Sylvia on seeing Karen. "He's got food poisoning," Karen replied curtly. "Typical," Sylvia said disdainfully, conveniently forgetting all the times she'd said the same thing. "Oh, well," She added with the edge of spiteful pleasure in her tone. "I suppose this'll remind you what it's like to get your hands dirty." Karen was about to give Sylvia the first impolite retort that came into her head, but Gina got there before her. "Sylvia, why don't you do us all a favour and give it a rest? It's a bloody awful night, so just be glad that you can leave this place and go home. Now, preferably." Taking the hint, Sylvia picked up her coat and her handbag and left the office. "How's it been tonight?" Karen asked Colin, who didn't even bother trying to hide his smile at the way Gina had dealt with Sylvia. "All's very quiet," He said, taking a quick look at the report book. "But everyone's cold. If this wind gets any stronger, you might want to give some of them extra blankets. You know how drafty those cells can be. Oh, and I might be wrong, at least I hope I'm wrong, but I think Denny Blood might be on something." "Oh, you're joking," Karen replied in dismay. "Like I said, I might be barking up the wrong tree. But she seemed a bit out of it in association, and was already crashed out on her bed by lock up." "Which really isn't like Denny," Karen finished for him. "The drugs problem seems to be a hell of a lot worse lately," Gina observed. "Which makes me wonder if they're getting some inside help," Karen said gloomily. "Try the people who work in the officers' club," Suggested Gina. "Or the blokes who do the deliveries." "Well, you need to find out where Denny scored, if she did," Colin finished, as he shrugged into his jacket. "Because it wasn't from Al McKenzie, because she's been down the block all week. If you want my opinion, I'd put my bets on Darlene."
When he'd gone, Karen and Gina began to make a thorough walk round of the wing, making some attempt to tidy up the association area, both of them thinking that Sylvia had left this on purpose. They walked along the landings, starting with the 3s, checking on every cell. The howling wind echoed along the open landings, giving the place a far more eerie and haunted feeling than usual. "Jesus," Gina said with an almost imperceptible shudder. "I wouldn't like to be doing a shift on my own tonight." "The place is full of people, Gina," Karen said with a smile. "Yeah, half of them killers, and the rest of them either out of it on drugs, or hell bent on making mincemeat of themselves. Doesn't exactly fill you with confidence, does it." "Not put like that, no," Karen was forced to agree. "But fortunately for us, they're all behind locked doors." "Yeah, Sylvia's always said that happiness was door shaped, I'm beginning to know what she means." They gave extra blankets to those who asked for them, and it didn't go unnoticed that several inmates were sleeping in the same bed tonight, presumably to share body heat. When they reached Lauren and Denny's cell on the ground floor, Karen went in this time, instead of simply looking through the spy hole. Denny was fast asleep on the top bunk, but Lauren was reading by the light of a candle. "Where did you get that?" Karen asked. "Oh, hi Miss," Lauren said, looking up with a far too innocent look on her face. "I couldn't sleep because of the cold, and because Denny keeps dreaming and calling out all sorts of bollocks." "Where did you get that candle?" Karen persisted, not wanting a fire tonight on top of everything else. "Good, isn't it?" Lauren said, trying to get Karen off the negatives of the situation. "The only thing is, the draught keeps blowing it out." "Well, just be careful," Karen admonished, seeing that she wasn't going to get anywhere with this. "Just make sure you don't set fire to something." "Cheers, Miss," Lauren said with a winning smile. "Any chance of an extra blanket?" "Suppose you'd like a mug of hot chocolate as well, would you?" Gina said dryly, handing a blanket over from the stack she'd been carrying. "Well, if you're offering," Lauren said flashing a cheeky smile over at Gina. "What did your last slave die of?" Gina asked in disgust. "Boredom," Lauren quipped back as Karen moved towards the door. But before she could leave altogether, Denny began murmuring in her sleep, her voice becoming more frantic and desperate with every second. Walking over to her, Karen reached up to the top bunk and shook Denny's shoulder. But this only seemed to make Denny worse. She began struggling, and calling out all manner of indecipherable pleas. "Denny, come on, wake up," Karen gently cajoled. When Denny eventually opened her eyes, the blind terror in them made Karen flinch. Denny was crying now, her whole body shaking, her arms clinging to Karen to stop herself from falling back into her nightmare. Karen gently rubbed her back, almost rocking her like a child, feeling powerless in not knowing the cause of Denny's dream. Leaving them for a moment, Gina soon returned carrying two mugs of tea, handing one to Lauren, and holding the other until Denny was ready for it. Lauren slid out of bed and handed Denny the box of tissues that was on the table. "Are you all right now?" Karen asked as Denny blew her nose. "Why do all the shit things come back to haunt you all at the same time?" Denny asked bitterly. "Sometimes, if we're especially tired, or depressed, the bad things are all we can think about," Karen replied gently. "And, if we take dodgy drugs, to try and make ourselves feel better, that's only going to make it worse." Denny looked her straight in the eye, seeing in an instant that there was no point hiding it because Karen already knew. "Shit," She said miserably. "Go on, get that down you," Gina said, handing her the mug of hot, sweet tea. "That'll do you a lot more good than shoving pills down your gob." When Denny had drunk the tea, Karen picked up a spare blanket and tucked it round her. "I'm going to keep checking on you tonight," She said gently. "Until whatever it is has gone out of your system, and we will be talking about this some time soon. Is that understood?" "Yes, Miss," Denny said quietly, knowing she'd let Karen down. The deal she'd made with Miss Betts, all those months ago, would have been great if Fenner had really got what he deserved. But she couldn't really see the point now in keeping her nose clean. What reason was there for her to even think of getting out of prison? Sure, Yvonne came to see her every fortnight, but she would have Lauren back soon enough, and then she wouldn't need her.
When Karen and Gina returned to the office, Karen turned the radiator up high and put the kettle on for some coffee. "Are you going to go official about Denny?" Gina asked. "I don't want to," Karen admitted. "It ain't like you to go soft on an inmate," Gina observed. "I know. I'm just not sure that punishment will achieve very much in this case. I think this needs a more personal approach." "Is this because of how close Denny is to Yvonne?" Gina asked wisely. "No," Karen replied, seeing just where Gina's thoughts were heading. "Denny always manages to get to you," Gina observed quietly. "Ever since I came back, I've noticed that. You're different with her." "I'm not sure I'd agree with you," Karen said conversationally, though she knew that in some ways, Gina was right. "Yeah, well, you wouldn't, would you," Gina said succinctly. "Gina, if you're trying to say that I'm getting too emotionally involved with Denny's case, then just say it." "Hey, calm down," Gina said persuasively. "It might be understandable if you were. Let's face it, the bloke you were seeing, was part of the cause of Denny's girlfriend being burnt to death. If that doesn't make you feel slightly more responsible for someone, then I don't know what does." Karen just stared at her. She'd never previously even entertained such an idea, though she knew that this was because she'd avoided looking too closely at her interest in Denny. "Look," Gina said, trying to reassure Karen. "Until just lately, Denny's been getting on with it, sorting herself out. So, whatever you said or did to make her do that, was all to the good." Karen laughed mirthlessly. "Do you want to know why she's been almost a model prisoner for quite some time now?" Karen asked a little cynically. Gina just waited. "As a result of the flapping ears and gossip in this place, Denny, as well as a number of the rest of them, was aware of what had happened with me and Fenner, just before Mark left. I agreed to pursue a case against Fenner, if Denny would keep her nose clean and make an effort to get her parole." "Jesus," Gina said in awe. "That's some deal." "Yeah, and it's not as if it came to anything, is it," Karen said bitterly. "Mark told me about what happened with Fenner," Gina said quietly. "That was nice of him," Karen said a little acidly. "Do you still hear from him?" She asked, wanting and yet not wanting to know. "Yeah, from time to time. He usually writes, but occasionally he'll phone me. He got back in touch with me, not long after he left here." "I'm glad he had someone to talk to," Karen said, some of her residual guilt over the way she'd treated Mark beginning to resurface. "He usually asks after you," Gina said gently. "I don't know why he should," Karen answered miserably. "Karen, what happened with you and Mark, wasn't your fault, same as what happened with me and Mark wasn't mine. Di bloody Barker was what did for me and Mark, and Fenner was what screwed things up for you." "I wasn't very nice to Mark when that happened," Karen admitted regretfully. "No, and neither was I when I lost the baby." "Does he still blame me?" Karen found herself asking, though she wasn't sure that she really wanted to know. "No, of course not. He felt terrible about the way he reacted when you told him, but that's Mark all over. When I found out that he'd been shagging Di, all he could do was focus on what he thought I'd been up to with Josh. Then, when I lost the baby, I know part of him thought it was my fault for picking a fight with Di. He never actually said so, but I'd known him long enough to see it in his eyes. Mark has to find a reason for everything. If he can't immediately find some way of explaining all the bad things that happen, he has to find someone to blame. With me, it was easier for him to blame me, because he knew that in blaming Di, he would have to look at his own behaviour where she was concerned. With you, I suspect he couldn't immediately blame Fenner, because you two were supposed to be in something resembling a relationship, and yet you'd gone to bed with Fenner. Mark has quite simple boundaries for right and wrong, and that just confused him."
After Karen had gone, George had sat drinking the rest of the red wine and listening to music. She could relax in Karen's flat; the stylish yet homely surroundings making her feel incredibly comfortable. She'd put a new CD on, and soaked for a long time in a hot, scented bath, allowing her senses to take her through what they might have done had Karen been here. They might well have taken a bath together, soft, soapy hands caressing each other's skin. Her nipples turned hard at this thought, even with the heat of the water. But after eventually dragging herself out, she wrapped herself in a big, fluffy towel, and went to examine Karen's bookcase. She didn't feel like watching a film, and the comforting softness of Karen's goose-feather duvet was calling to her. When she lighted on the line of six Jilly Cooper novels on the second shelf, her face broke into a smile of pure, unadulterated pleasure. It was years since she'd read one of these, the illustrious reprobate, Rupert Campbell-Black, having provided her with many hours of light, trashy entertainment. Selecting the one that had always been her favourite, she snuggled down under the thick duvet and began to read. Even though she must have read this book at least half a dozen times, it still made her laugh. 'The Man who Made Husbands Jealous', with the boyish and hopelessly inefficient Lysander Hawkley, the musical genius and sexual predator, Rannaldini, and the thoroughly wayward Flora Seymour, who reminded George of herself at sixteen. She lost herself in the first few chapters of this well-remembered novel, her imagination and fondness for the characters taking her away from the sound of the weather outside. But at around half past one, her eyes began to grow heavy, the end of a long week's work finally catching up with her. Putting the book down on the bedside table and switching off the lamp, George lay listening to the howling wind and the pounding rain outside the window. Her thoughts drifted to Karen, probably sitting in the officers' room on G wing, drinking coffee to keep her awake and smoking. George knew that she would hate to have to be in a place like Larkhall on such a night, and snuggled deeper into the folds of the duvet, heartily grateful that she was George and not Karen.
Karen and Gina had continued talking about Mark, the escalating weather outside providing the perfect background to such a soul-searching conversation. The wind shook the ill-fitting windowpanes from time to time, but they had steaming mugs of coffee, a good supply of cigarettes, and a thankfully functioning radiator. "I didn't intend to go to bed with Fenner," Karen found herself saying. "It just happened. But when Mark realised that's what I'd done, it was like he thought I'd deserved what I got." "I bet he came over all holier than thou, didn't he?" Gina said knowingly. "Part of me couldn't really blame him," Karen said reasonably. "And the rest of me was hurt and furious with him for not believing me." "I think he couldn't believe you," Gina said slowly. "Because he thought you didn't believe it yourself." "He wanted everything to be so cut and dried," Karen said miserably. "And that's not how things are after something like that." "Look," Gina said gently. "What happened with Fenner, that wasn't your fault. Mark knows that, and you should too. Mark wasn't anywhere near strong enough to deal with me after I lost the baby, so there's no way he would have been for you either. You're like me, you push everyone away when something goes badly wrong, because you think you can deal with it better on your own." "You've become very wise and philosophical in the last few years," Karen said with a wan smile. "Yeah, well, grief and guilt all in one go does that to a person. I did that, I pushed Mark away because I only had room for what I was feeling, not everything he was going through as well. He told me about Buki's kid, and how he'd gone a bit over the top trying to find out what had happened to him. I think he did that, because it was his way of dealing with losing his own kid." "Yeah, I wondered that at the time," Karen agreed meditatively. "He was so single-minded about it." "The point is," Gina continued. "We all deal with stuff like that in different ways. Mark threw himself into helping Buki look for her son, I moved prisons and worked as many shifts as I could, and you had a fling with Ritchie Atkins." Karen looked a little uncomfortable. "I was in court for most of Lauren's trial, Karen," Gina said quietly. "I know," Karen said, hating the fact that her officers always seem to know everything about her life, no matter how hard she tried to keep it separate from her job. "How much does Mark know about that?" She asked, thinking that now was as good a time as any to learn the worst. "He's read the papers, just like everyone else," Gina said matter-of-factly. "And yeah, especially whenever you or Larkhall's been in them. So I guess there ain't much he doesn't know. You definitely gave him a surprise or two, but nothing he won't get over." "I didn't mean to hurt him," Karen said, turning her face away from Gina's all too penetrating gaze. "But it would have been impossible to stay with him. It's been hard enough for me to move on from what Fenner did to me, but I know I couldn't have coped with Mark's feelings about it as well."
They progressed on through the long, dark night, doing rounds of the entire wing, keeping a regular check on those prisoners who were considered to be at risk. They returned intermittently to the subject of Mark, perhaps taking advantage of the opportunity to get everything about him out in the open. Karen knew she had stamina, but she'd been awake for almost twenty-four hours now, and the strain was beginning to tell. "Jesus," Karen said at about half past five, lighting what felt like her hundredth cigarette. "This reminds me of when I was nursing, and had to do double shifts to make ends meet." "Don't you have a son?" Gina asked, suddenly remembering. "Yes," Karen said with a smile that went soul deep. "Ross, I had him when I was eighteen. It was crazy for a few years. I couldn't always afford to be at home and read him a bedtime story myself, but I could just about afford to pay someone else to do it for me." "I take it he wasn't planned," Gina said with a smile. "No," Karen admitted, wondering just where that eighteen-year-old girl had gone. "It was bloody hard at times, but I wouldn't change any of it for the world." "That's what I wanted," Gina said, a slight catch in her voice. "For me, and Mark, and the little one to be a family. I didn't care how hard it was going to be I just knew it was what I wanted. Then, when I found out just how much Mark didn't care about our relationship, I knew I couldn't do it on my own. I might be strong, but I'm not as strong as you." There were brief tears in Gina's eyes, and Karen took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Just because you've had one miscarriage," She said gently. "That doesn't mean you'll have another." "I know, that's what the hospital said at the time." "Don't give up hope, Gina. That's all any of us have got."
Not long after six, they heard the distinct sound of the gate being unlocked and somebody coming onto the wing. "Sounds like we've got company," Gina said hopefully. A moment later, Dominic walked into the office, looking tired, pale, but basically healthy. "There's a sight for sore eyes," Karen commented dryly. "You feeling better?" "I stopped throwing up at around midnight, so I thought I'd come in." "Now that is dedication for you," Karen said on a yawn. "Go on," Gina said with a tired smile. "Go home, go to bed, and give that woman of yours a reason not to whinge." Karen grinned lop-sidedly at them as she shrugged into her coat. "Thanks for doing this, Karen," Dominic said as she passed him. "As you've come in to finish your shift, I'll forgive you," She said with a smile. "I'll call you a cab," Gina said as Karen walked out of the door. Gina being as good as her word, there was a cab waiting for her by the time she reached the outside, ready to take her home to a warm flat and hopefully a still occupied bed.
When Karen let herself through her front door, all was silent. But it wasn't the empty silence that spoke of no other presence. It was an occupied silence, a quietness that told of contented sleep. Karen smiled as this observation struck her. She liked having George here, in her space, in her bed, waiting for her to come home. Slipping her shoes off, she padded into the bedroom, to see that George was still asleep, her soft, steady breathing the only sound, apart from the still falling rain. Pulling her clothes off, Karen took a quick, hot shower and cleaned her teeth. The combination of exhaustion and caffeine high was making her jittery, and she knew that only a soft, warm cuddle would calm her down. Sliding under the duvet, she found herself submerged in a soft, warm bed, with George's slim, pretty legs stretched over to her side of the bed. Karen smiled. George would be the type of person to hog the entire bed if she was the only one in it. At Karen's first contact with her skin, George groaned softly and put her arms out instinctively. As they came together, George began to wake up. "What time is it?" She asked in a drowsy, sleepy voice. "Not quite seven," Karen said, gently kissing her. "You're back early," George deduced, sounding pleased. "Dominic felt better, so he came in. I haven't been awake for as long as twenty four hours for quite a long time," She said with a yawn. "How was it?" "Fairly quiet. But Denny's started taking drugs again." "Oh, no," George said with feeling. "I thought she was doing well, after you'd made your deal with her." "Yes, so did I. But I think everything's just got a bit too much lately. That's a conversation I'm not looking forward to on Monday." "Darling, I'm sorry I behaved like a spoilt adolescent last night," George said soberly. "You didn't really," Karen said fondly. "And I know how infuriating it can be sometimes." "Am I forgiven?" "Of course," Karen said with a smile. "Would I really be doing this if you weren't?" She asked, deftly stroking one of George's breasts. George laughed deep in her throat. "If doing night shifts puts you in the mood, I might be in favour of you doing them more often," George said with a smirk. "Bloody cheek," Karen quipped, grazing a thumb over George's nipple. "When have I ever not been up for this?" George would have answered, but the feelings Karen was inducing in her, were taking her over. As their kisses became deeper, and their hands began to wander at will, Karen eased a leg between George's, her thigh rubbing up against her soft, warm centre. Their hands progressed down the path of mutual, combined ecstasy, bringing each other to a shuddering, gasping orgasm. They clung to each other as their simultaneous climax approached, thrilling in the reactions of each other's bodies and the celebration of how happy they were. As they lay afterwards, huddled together in the cosy haven of their bed, George wondered how she could ever have reacted the way she had the night before. Karen's job was her life, at least for the most part, and her total dedication to it was something to be praised, not discouraged. They gently kissed each other from time to time, occasionally talking, but mostly taking simple comfort from being in each other's arms. "You look exhausted," George said after a while. "Being awake for over twenty four hours, and making love with a beautiful woman, might account for that," Karen replied, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "That's interesting," George mused with a smile. "You used to say 'sleeping with' when you talked about me, and now it's 'making love.' I like that." "Good," Karen said, kissing her again. "I liked coming home, and knowing you were here." As they lay there, both taking in the meaning of their words, they drifted gently to sleep, the wintry, Saturday morning sun peeping through the bedroom curtains.
Part Sixty-Five
Karen had planned to spend the Friday evening and hopefully the night, with George. Karen would be cooking, which meant they would be in her flat for a change. She was perfectly well aware that neither her living space, nor her cooking, could ever come up to George's standard, but that didn't matter. It was a rainy and freezing February night, and they would be warm and content in her flat, which was really all they seemed to need. George arrived just after seven with a bottle of red wine, which provided a perfect accompaniment to the chicken casserole Karen had thrown together. She was pleased to see that George ate a good-sized helping of the very warming, pretty filling dish. They washed up, and were sitting snugly close on the sofa, drinking the Merlot and listening to some soft music, when the phone rang. Karen ignored it at first, letting the answer phone take it for her. But when she heard Dominic's voice, telling her to pick up, she did. "I am here," She said, switching on the cordless to interrupt his message. "Thank god for that," He said, sounding relieved. "You know I was supposed to be doing the night shift with Gina?" "Yes," Karen replied, not liking where her thoughts were taking her. "I can't do it." "Why the bloody hell not?" Karen demanded. "I've got food poisoning." "Dominic, is this real food poisoning, or Sylvia's kind of food poisoning, just in time for the weekend." "Come on, Karen," He insisted. "You know me better than that." "Yes, I know. I'm sorry. But you could have let me know before now. You're on duty in less than an hour," She said, glancing at her watch. "I thought it would be gone by tonight, but there's no way I'd be any use to anyone." "You do realise, that Colin, Selena, Sylvia and Paula, have all been on duty all day, and so can't cover for you?" "Could you do it?" He asked tentatively. "Shit, Dominic," Karen said in alarm. "I've been drinking." "How much have you had?" "About half a bottle of red wine." "Oh, that's nothing for you," Dominic said confidently. "Dominic, your faith in my tolerance of alcohol is commendable, but I just hope you're right. Just because Fenner used to periodically drink on duty, does not mean that Grayling would thank me for doing the same." "So you'll do it?" "I don't have any choice, do I?"
When she'd replaced the receiver, she turned to George with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, but I expect you got the gist of that." "Your staff don't know when they're well off," Was George's only comment. "I didn't know this was going to happen," Karen said quietly, feeling unutterably guilty, even though she knew she had nothing to feel guilty about. "I know," George said, trying to hide her disappointment and failing. "If there was the remotest possibility of an alternative, I wouldn't be doing this," Karen insisted. "That's the point though, isn't it?" George said in slight irritation. "There ought to be an alternative for a situation like this, and you shouldn't have to do it." "I'll have to phone Gina," Karen said, wanting to change the subject a little. "She can pick me up. I'm not losing my licence in the midst of waiting for a promotion." After phoning Gina and putting her in the picture, Karen made herself a cup of very strong coffee, in an attempt to sober up slightly, though she didn't in any way feel incapable of doing her job. "Do you mind if I stay?" George asked, not really wanting to go back home to her empty house. "Because you're not the only one who's had a little too much to drive." "No, of course I don't mind," Karen said, putting her arms round her. "You can keep the bed warm for me. I'll hopefully be back some time early tomorrow morning, but you never know." "I wish you didn't have to do this," George said quietly. "I know," Karen responded, gently kissing her. "But when all else fails on my wing, I draw the short straw. That's how it's always been, and I suspect that's how it always will be. That's what my life consists of, Larkhall taking up the vast majority of my time. If I can fit in a beautiful, funny, argumentative, stubborn and at times addictive, woman, then I do. But just occasionally, she may have to play second fiddle to my job. That's not how I want it, but for the moment, that's how it is." Karen had said all this in a calm, gentle but firm voice. George turned her gaze away from Karen, not wanting her to see the brief tears that had risen to her eyes. She felt utterly stupid. She knew that Karen's job always had done and probably always would come first, and she knew that she had absolutely no right to demand more of Karen, than Karen was prepared to give. Karen didn't say anything for the time being, because she knew that George was finding this all a little difficult to deal with, but when the doorbell rang, she turned George's face back to her. "If I can get home earlier than planned, then I will." "I'm sorry," George said in a slightly strangled voice as they kissed each other. "I know," Karen said softly.
When Karen dropped into the passenger seat of Gina's car, she said, "Thanks for this." "That's okay," Gina replied as she started the engine. Then, taking a closer look at Karen's face, she said, "Apart from the red wine, are you all right?" "Not really," Karen found herself admitting. "This job doesn't do much for the home life, does it?" "No," Gina agreed ruefully. "Was that George's car in your driveway?" "Yes, and I don't think I'm going to be forgiven for occasionally having to put my job first." "The thing is," Gina clarified, "Even though someone like her, or the Judge, or that other barrister, the one who defended Lauren Atkins, might do a bloody hard job, it's still only got a nine to five, or Monday to Friday level of commitment. This kind of job, like nursing I suppose, isn't just a way of earning a living, it's a vocation, a way of life, and if you're destined to work in a job like this, it's going to take over your life from time to time. That's just how it works. If you're not prepared for that from the start, you'll never last the course." "That's pretty much what I said at my interview last week," Karen said with a smile. "Well, there you are then. Your commitment to your job is something George and whoever else, is just going to have to get used too." "Did you find it easier, being in a relationship with someone who did the same job as you?" Karen asked, clearly referring to Mark. "No way," Gina said scornfully. "It was a bloody nightmare. But then you'd know that, after constantly being caught in the rows between Fenner and Helen Stewart." Karen neither acknowledged nor denied this assertion. They didn't speak again on their drive to Larkhall, Karen being lost in her thoughts, and Gina wondering if she'd said too much.
When they walked into the officers' room on G wing, they found Sylvia and Colin maintaining a stony silence. "Oh, where's Dominic?" Asked Sylvia on seeing Karen. "He's got food poisoning," Karen replied curtly. "Typical," Sylvia said disdainfully, conveniently forgetting all the times she'd said the same thing. "Oh, well," She added with the edge of spiteful pleasure in her tone. "I suppose this'll remind you what it's like to get your hands dirty." Karen was about to give Sylvia the first impolite retort that came into her head, but Gina got there before her. "Sylvia, why don't you do us all a favour and give it a rest? It's a bloody awful night, so just be glad that you can leave this place and go home. Now, preferably." Taking the hint, Sylvia picked up her coat and her handbag and left the office. "How's it been tonight?" Karen asked Colin, who didn't even bother trying to hide his smile at the way Gina had dealt with Sylvia. "All's very quiet," He said, taking a quick look at the report book. "But everyone's cold. If this wind gets any stronger, you might want to give some of them extra blankets. You know how drafty those cells can be. Oh, and I might be wrong, at least I hope I'm wrong, but I think Denny Blood might be on something." "Oh, you're joking," Karen replied in dismay. "Like I said, I might be barking up the wrong tree. But she seemed a bit out of it in association, and was already crashed out on her bed by lock up." "Which really isn't like Denny," Karen finished for him. "The drugs problem seems to be a hell of a lot worse lately," Gina observed. "Which makes me wonder if they're getting some inside help," Karen said gloomily. "Try the people who work in the officers' club," Suggested Gina. "Or the blokes who do the deliveries." "Well, you need to find out where Denny scored, if she did," Colin finished, as he shrugged into his jacket. "Because it wasn't from Al McKenzie, because she's been down the block all week. If you want my opinion, I'd put my bets on Darlene."
When he'd gone, Karen and Gina began to make a thorough walk round of the wing, making some attempt to tidy up the association area, both of them thinking that Sylvia had left this on purpose. They walked along the landings, starting with the 3s, checking on every cell. The howling wind echoed along the open landings, giving the place a far more eerie and haunted feeling than usual. "Jesus," Gina said with an almost imperceptible shudder. "I wouldn't like to be doing a shift on my own tonight." "The place is full of people, Gina," Karen said with a smile. "Yeah, half of them killers, and the rest of them either out of it on drugs, or hell bent on making mincemeat of themselves. Doesn't exactly fill you with confidence, does it." "Not put like that, no," Karen was forced to agree. "But fortunately for us, they're all behind locked doors." "Yeah, Sylvia's always said that happiness was door shaped, I'm beginning to know what she means." They gave extra blankets to those who asked for them, and it didn't go unnoticed that several inmates were sleeping in the same bed tonight, presumably to share body heat. When they reached Lauren and Denny's cell on the ground floor, Karen went in this time, instead of simply looking through the spy hole. Denny was fast asleep on the top bunk, but Lauren was reading by the light of a candle. "Where did you get that?" Karen asked. "Oh, hi Miss," Lauren said, looking up with a far too innocent look on her face. "I couldn't sleep because of the cold, and because Denny keeps dreaming and calling out all sorts of bollocks." "Where did you get that candle?" Karen persisted, not wanting a fire tonight on top of everything else. "Good, isn't it?" Lauren said, trying to get Karen off the negatives of the situation. "The only thing is, the draught keeps blowing it out." "Well, just be careful," Karen admonished, seeing that she wasn't going to get anywhere with this. "Just make sure you don't set fire to something." "Cheers, Miss," Lauren said with a winning smile. "Any chance of an extra blanket?" "Suppose you'd like a mug of hot chocolate as well, would you?" Gina said dryly, handing a blanket over from the stack she'd been carrying. "Well, if you're offering," Lauren said flashing a cheeky smile over at Gina. "What did your last slave die of?" Gina asked in disgust. "Boredom," Lauren quipped back as Karen moved towards the door. But before she could leave altogether, Denny began murmuring in her sleep, her voice becoming more frantic and desperate with every second. Walking over to her, Karen reached up to the top bunk and shook Denny's shoulder. But this only seemed to make Denny worse. She began struggling, and calling out all manner of indecipherable pleas. "Denny, come on, wake up," Karen gently cajoled. When Denny eventually opened her eyes, the blind terror in them made Karen flinch. Denny was crying now, her whole body shaking, her arms clinging to Karen to stop herself from falling back into her nightmare. Karen gently rubbed her back, almost rocking her like a child, feeling powerless in not knowing the cause of Denny's dream. Leaving them for a moment, Gina soon returned carrying two mugs of tea, handing one to Lauren, and holding the other until Denny was ready for it. Lauren slid out of bed and handed Denny the box of tissues that was on the table. "Are you all right now?" Karen asked as Denny blew her nose. "Why do all the shit things come back to haunt you all at the same time?" Denny asked bitterly. "Sometimes, if we're especially tired, or depressed, the bad things are all we can think about," Karen replied gently. "And, if we take dodgy drugs, to try and make ourselves feel better, that's only going to make it worse." Denny looked her straight in the eye, seeing in an instant that there was no point hiding it because Karen already knew. "Shit," She said miserably. "Go on, get that down you," Gina said, handing her the mug of hot, sweet tea. "That'll do you a lot more good than shoving pills down your gob." When Denny had drunk the tea, Karen picked up a spare blanket and tucked it round her. "I'm going to keep checking on you tonight," She said gently. "Until whatever it is has gone out of your system, and we will be talking about this some time soon. Is that understood?" "Yes, Miss," Denny said quietly, knowing she'd let Karen down. The deal she'd made with Miss Betts, all those months ago, would have been great if Fenner had really got what he deserved. But she couldn't really see the point now in keeping her nose clean. What reason was there for her to even think of getting out of prison? Sure, Yvonne came to see her every fortnight, but she would have Lauren back soon enough, and then she wouldn't need her.
When Karen and Gina returned to the office, Karen turned the radiator up high and put the kettle on for some coffee. "Are you going to go official about Denny?" Gina asked. "I don't want to," Karen admitted. "It ain't like you to go soft on an inmate," Gina observed. "I know. I'm just not sure that punishment will achieve very much in this case. I think this needs a more personal approach." "Is this because of how close Denny is to Yvonne?" Gina asked wisely. "No," Karen replied, seeing just where Gina's thoughts were heading. "Denny always manages to get to you," Gina observed quietly. "Ever since I came back, I've noticed that. You're different with her." "I'm not sure I'd agree with you," Karen said conversationally, though she knew that in some ways, Gina was right. "Yeah, well, you wouldn't, would you," Gina said succinctly. "Gina, if you're trying to say that I'm getting too emotionally involved with Denny's case, then just say it." "Hey, calm down," Gina said persuasively. "It might be understandable if you were. Let's face it, the bloke you were seeing, was part of the cause of Denny's girlfriend being burnt to death. If that doesn't make you feel slightly more responsible for someone, then I don't know what does." Karen just stared at her. She'd never previously even entertained such an idea, though she knew that this was because she'd avoided looking too closely at her interest in Denny. "Look," Gina said, trying to reassure Karen. "Until just lately, Denny's been getting on with it, sorting herself out. So, whatever you said or did to make her do that, was all to the good." Karen laughed mirthlessly. "Do you want to know why she's been almost a model prisoner for quite some time now?" Karen asked a little cynically. Gina just waited. "As a result of the flapping ears and gossip in this place, Denny, as well as a number of the rest of them, was aware of what had happened with me and Fenner, just before Mark left. I agreed to pursue a case against Fenner, if Denny would keep her nose clean and make an effort to get her parole." "Jesus," Gina said in awe. "That's some deal." "Yeah, and it's not as if it came to anything, is it," Karen said bitterly. "Mark told me about what happened with Fenner," Gina said quietly. "That was nice of him," Karen said a little acidly. "Do you still hear from him?" She asked, wanting and yet not wanting to know. "Yeah, from time to time. He usually writes, but occasionally he'll phone me. He got back in touch with me, not long after he left here." "I'm glad he had someone to talk to," Karen said, some of her residual guilt over the way she'd treated Mark beginning to resurface. "He usually asks after you," Gina said gently. "I don't know why he should," Karen answered miserably. "Karen, what happened with you and Mark, wasn't your fault, same as what happened with me and Mark wasn't mine. Di bloody Barker was what did for me and Mark, and Fenner was what screwed things up for you." "I wasn't very nice to Mark when that happened," Karen admitted regretfully. "No, and neither was I when I lost the baby." "Does he still blame me?" Karen found herself asking, though she wasn't sure that she really wanted to know. "No, of course not. He felt terrible about the way he reacted when you told him, but that's Mark all over. When I found out that he'd been shagging Di, all he could do was focus on what he thought I'd been up to with Josh. Then, when I lost the baby, I know part of him thought it was my fault for picking a fight with Di. He never actually said so, but I'd known him long enough to see it in his eyes. Mark has to find a reason for everything. If he can't immediately find some way of explaining all the bad things that happen, he has to find someone to blame. With me, it was easier for him to blame me, because he knew that in blaming Di, he would have to look at his own behaviour where she was concerned. With you, I suspect he couldn't immediately blame Fenner, because you two were supposed to be in something resembling a relationship, and yet you'd gone to bed with Fenner. Mark has quite simple boundaries for right and wrong, and that just confused him."
After Karen had gone, George had sat drinking the rest of the red wine and listening to music. She could relax in Karen's flat; the stylish yet homely surroundings making her feel incredibly comfortable. She'd put a new CD on, and soaked for a long time in a hot, scented bath, allowing her senses to take her through what they might have done had Karen been here. They might well have taken a bath together, soft, soapy hands caressing each other's skin. Her nipples turned hard at this thought, even with the heat of the water. But after eventually dragging herself out, she wrapped herself in a big, fluffy towel, and went to examine Karen's bookcase. She didn't feel like watching a film, and the comforting softness of Karen's goose-feather duvet was calling to her. When she lighted on the line of six Jilly Cooper novels on the second shelf, her face broke into a smile of pure, unadulterated pleasure. It was years since she'd read one of these, the illustrious reprobate, Rupert Campbell-Black, having provided her with many hours of light, trashy entertainment. Selecting the one that had always been her favourite, she snuggled down under the thick duvet and began to read. Even though she must have read this book at least half a dozen times, it still made her laugh. 'The Man who Made Husbands Jealous', with the boyish and hopelessly inefficient Lysander Hawkley, the musical genius and sexual predator, Rannaldini, and the thoroughly wayward Flora Seymour, who reminded George of herself at sixteen. She lost herself in the first few chapters of this well-remembered novel, her imagination and fondness for the characters taking her away from the sound of the weather outside. But at around half past one, her eyes began to grow heavy, the end of a long week's work finally catching up with her. Putting the book down on the bedside table and switching off the lamp, George lay listening to the howling wind and the pounding rain outside the window. Her thoughts drifted to Karen, probably sitting in the officers' room on G wing, drinking coffee to keep her awake and smoking. George knew that she would hate to have to be in a place like Larkhall on such a night, and snuggled deeper into the folds of the duvet, heartily grateful that she was George and not Karen.
Karen and Gina had continued talking about Mark, the escalating weather outside providing the perfect background to such a soul-searching conversation. The wind shook the ill-fitting windowpanes from time to time, but they had steaming mugs of coffee, a good supply of cigarettes, and a thankfully functioning radiator. "I didn't intend to go to bed with Fenner," Karen found herself saying. "It just happened. But when Mark realised that's what I'd done, it was like he thought I'd deserved what I got." "I bet he came over all holier than thou, didn't he?" Gina said knowingly. "Part of me couldn't really blame him," Karen said reasonably. "And the rest of me was hurt and furious with him for not believing me." "I think he couldn't believe you," Gina said slowly. "Because he thought you didn't believe it yourself." "He wanted everything to be so cut and dried," Karen said miserably. "And that's not how things are after something like that." "Look," Gina said gently. "What happened with Fenner, that wasn't your fault. Mark knows that, and you should too. Mark wasn't anywhere near strong enough to deal with me after I lost the baby, so there's no way he would have been for you either. You're like me, you push everyone away when something goes badly wrong, because you think you can deal with it better on your own." "You've become very wise and philosophical in the last few years," Karen said with a wan smile. "Yeah, well, grief and guilt all in one go does that to a person. I did that, I pushed Mark away because I only had room for what I was feeling, not everything he was going through as well. He told me about Buki's kid, and how he'd gone a bit over the top trying to find out what had happened to him. I think he did that, because it was his way of dealing with losing his own kid." "Yeah, I wondered that at the time," Karen agreed meditatively. "He was so single-minded about it." "The point is," Gina continued. "We all deal with stuff like that in different ways. Mark threw himself into helping Buki look for her son, I moved prisons and worked as many shifts as I could, and you had a fling with Ritchie Atkins." Karen looked a little uncomfortable. "I was in court for most of Lauren's trial, Karen," Gina said quietly. "I know," Karen said, hating the fact that her officers always seem to know everything about her life, no matter how hard she tried to keep it separate from her job. "How much does Mark know about that?" She asked, thinking that now was as good a time as any to learn the worst. "He's read the papers, just like everyone else," Gina said matter-of-factly. "And yeah, especially whenever you or Larkhall's been in them. So I guess there ain't much he doesn't know. You definitely gave him a surprise or two, but nothing he won't get over." "I didn't mean to hurt him," Karen said, turning her face away from Gina's all too penetrating gaze. "But it would have been impossible to stay with him. It's been hard enough for me to move on from what Fenner did to me, but I know I couldn't have coped with Mark's feelings about it as well."
They progressed on through the long, dark night, doing rounds of the entire wing, keeping a regular check on those prisoners who were considered to be at risk. They returned intermittently to the subject of Mark, perhaps taking advantage of the opportunity to get everything about him out in the open. Karen knew she had stamina, but she'd been awake for almost twenty-four hours now, and the strain was beginning to tell. "Jesus," Karen said at about half past five, lighting what felt like her hundredth cigarette. "This reminds me of when I was nursing, and had to do double shifts to make ends meet." "Don't you have a son?" Gina asked, suddenly remembering. "Yes," Karen said with a smile that went soul deep. "Ross, I had him when I was eighteen. It was crazy for a few years. I couldn't always afford to be at home and read him a bedtime story myself, but I could just about afford to pay someone else to do it for me." "I take it he wasn't planned," Gina said with a smile. "No," Karen admitted, wondering just where that eighteen-year-old girl had gone. "It was bloody hard at times, but I wouldn't change any of it for the world." "That's what I wanted," Gina said, a slight catch in her voice. "For me, and Mark, and the little one to be a family. I didn't care how hard it was going to be I just knew it was what I wanted. Then, when I found out just how much Mark didn't care about our relationship, I knew I couldn't do it on my own. I might be strong, but I'm not as strong as you." There were brief tears in Gina's eyes, and Karen took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Just because you've had one miscarriage," She said gently. "That doesn't mean you'll have another." "I know, that's what the hospital said at the time." "Don't give up hope, Gina. That's all any of us have got."
Not long after six, they heard the distinct sound of the gate being unlocked and somebody coming onto the wing. "Sounds like we've got company," Gina said hopefully. A moment later, Dominic walked into the office, looking tired, pale, but basically healthy. "There's a sight for sore eyes," Karen commented dryly. "You feeling better?" "I stopped throwing up at around midnight, so I thought I'd come in." "Now that is dedication for you," Karen said on a yawn. "Go on," Gina said with a tired smile. "Go home, go to bed, and give that woman of yours a reason not to whinge." Karen grinned lop-sidedly at them as she shrugged into her coat. "Thanks for doing this, Karen," Dominic said as she passed him. "As you've come in to finish your shift, I'll forgive you," She said with a smile. "I'll call you a cab," Gina said as Karen walked out of the door. Gina being as good as her word, there was a cab waiting for her by the time she reached the outside, ready to take her home to a warm flat and hopefully a still occupied bed.
When Karen let herself through her front door, all was silent. But it wasn't the empty silence that spoke of no other presence. It was an occupied silence, a quietness that told of contented sleep. Karen smiled as this observation struck her. She liked having George here, in her space, in her bed, waiting for her to come home. Slipping her shoes off, she padded into the bedroom, to see that George was still asleep, her soft, steady breathing the only sound, apart from the still falling rain. Pulling her clothes off, Karen took a quick, hot shower and cleaned her teeth. The combination of exhaustion and caffeine high was making her jittery, and she knew that only a soft, warm cuddle would calm her down. Sliding under the duvet, she found herself submerged in a soft, warm bed, with George's slim, pretty legs stretched over to her side of the bed. Karen smiled. George would be the type of person to hog the entire bed if she was the only one in it. At Karen's first contact with her skin, George groaned softly and put her arms out instinctively. As they came together, George began to wake up. "What time is it?" She asked in a drowsy, sleepy voice. "Not quite seven," Karen said, gently kissing her. "You're back early," George deduced, sounding pleased. "Dominic felt better, so he came in. I haven't been awake for as long as twenty four hours for quite a long time," She said with a yawn. "How was it?" "Fairly quiet. But Denny's started taking drugs again." "Oh, no," George said with feeling. "I thought she was doing well, after you'd made your deal with her." "Yes, so did I. But I think everything's just got a bit too much lately. That's a conversation I'm not looking forward to on Monday." "Darling, I'm sorry I behaved like a spoilt adolescent last night," George said soberly. "You didn't really," Karen said fondly. "And I know how infuriating it can be sometimes." "Am I forgiven?" "Of course," Karen said with a smile. "Would I really be doing this if you weren't?" She asked, deftly stroking one of George's breasts. George laughed deep in her throat. "If doing night shifts puts you in the mood, I might be in favour of you doing them more often," George said with a smirk. "Bloody cheek," Karen quipped, grazing a thumb over George's nipple. "When have I ever not been up for this?" George would have answered, but the feelings Karen was inducing in her, were taking her over. As their kisses became deeper, and their hands began to wander at will, Karen eased a leg between George's, her thigh rubbing up against her soft, warm centre. Their hands progressed down the path of mutual, combined ecstasy, bringing each other to a shuddering, gasping orgasm. They clung to each other as their simultaneous climax approached, thrilling in the reactions of each other's bodies and the celebration of how happy they were. As they lay afterwards, huddled together in the cosy haven of their bed, George wondered how she could ever have reacted the way she had the night before. Karen's job was her life, at least for the most part, and her total dedication to it was something to be praised, not discouraged. They gently kissed each other from time to time, occasionally talking, but mostly taking simple comfort from being in each other's arms. "You look exhausted," George said after a while. "Being awake for over twenty four hours, and making love with a beautiful woman, might account for that," Karen replied, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "That's interesting," George mused with a smile. "You used to say 'sleeping with' when you talked about me, and now it's 'making love.' I like that." "Good," Karen said, kissing her again. "I liked coming home, and knowing you were here." As they lay there, both taking in the meaning of their words, they drifted gently to sleep, the wintry, Saturday morning sun peeping through the bedroom curtains.