Did war correspondents feel the same slither of fear walking into conflict zones that Sam felt walking into her own kitchen these days?
Actually, invariably, Abi wasn't there. In fact, they'd barely spoken in weeks now, but that didn't remove the potential for a row. It was all barbed comments and frosty silences; something Sam knew she should attempt to counteract with honest conversation, but she couldn't seem to manage it. In all the bad ways, Abi was exactly like her. She wanted concrete responses and – just like Hugh – she expected facts and nothing else. It wasn't that simple, however much Sam wished it was.
Nailing the serial rapist had been one of the biggest scalps of her career. She'd felt it on a professional level, of course, but she also felt it on a personal one. She was proud of the women that were safe now that animal was off the streets and she couldn't help but marvel at the fact that she'd managed to pull it off against the odds. Everyone had doubted her. Everyone, of course, except Sheelagh.
The night Amy Grogan had gone missing and they'd believed her abducted by the rapist, Sheelagh had taken her for pizza down by the river to ensure she ate. How apt was it that Sheelagh also went down to the river when she needed to think? Sam wondered what it was she thought about down there but she wouldn't have dared ask, even if she hadn't been embroiled in such an important investigation. Instead, she'd just allowed Sheelagh to take care of her that night and had been faintly surprised when all she demanded in return was that she stayed at home for three hours trying to sleep before going back to work. That was the delicate care of someone who knew her better than she knew herself and she couldn't articulate how much it had meant to her at the time.
After they'd arrested Kennedy the following day, she'd instantly become preoccupied with the forthcoming interview. She knew how tricky it was going to be and she was determined to prep as much as possible. However, Gina had appeared in the incident room in her civvies and distracted her from the case a little.
'There's a coffee waiting for you downstairs,' she said. 'Unless I'm very much mistaken and you know how rare that is.'
Sam rolled her shoulders. 'Sorry?'
'Just do yourself a favour and go downstairs,' Gina replied. 'Maybe that way one of my best PCs might actually get herself home tonight and be on the ball tomorrow.'
Understanding, Sam managed a soft smile, much stronger on the inside. 'Oh.'
'And you're no good to anyone if you're not on top form in the morning,' Gina warned.
'I know,' she answered.
Gina had thrown her one more knowing look before slipping out of the door. Sam counted to fifty in her head before she followed suit, descending the back staircase and weaving along the corridors until she reached the canteen. Then she'd hesitated outside, gazing through the glass. Sheelagh was completely alone in there, just waiting for her. It hammered home the sense of being completely cared for that she'd felt the previous night and the conversation that followed simply reiterated that. Sheelagh let her talk about the case and didn't bother pressing her to go home. By the time they parted Sam didn't feel better as such, but she was certainly felt stronger thanks to Sheelagh's steady affection and she would've liked to have said so, although the words were elusive.
The next day's interviews with Kennedy were frustrating. What she couldn't help but focus on afterwards, though, were her interactions with Sheelagh that day. First off, she'd seen her face when she'd spotted her rather unusual interview attire. She hadn't known where to look and, while Sam knew it was probably subconscious, Sheelagh's evident physical attraction lingered with her for days. It had set off a chain reaction in Sam's own body that she'd only managed to stifle thanks to the severity of the rapist investigation.
When the first day's interviews had proved fruitless – thanks to Manson's interference as much as anything – she'd known she wasn't going to get any sleep. There was something she was missing in the files and she needed to crack it before they were forced to bail one of the dangerous men she'd ever come across. Hugh had given her a stern talking-to about going home before he'd left but she had no intention of listening to him.
Then Sheelagh had appeared beside her in the darkened room. As soon as the hand slipped onto her shoulder, Sam felt stronger again. Of course, she still felt adrift but at least now she felt as though she could see dry land somewhere in the distance. They'd talked about the case, knees touching and breath practically mingling, then Sheelagh had insisted on going out to get some dinner while she showered. Maybe it was intuition that had told Sheelagh what her favourite Chinese dish was because she was sure she'd never mentioned it but, either way, it was a loving gesture. As she'd showered, her mind had gone on tangents she really shouldn't have allowed it to under the circumstances and it was all she could do to keep her blush down when Sheelagh returned with the food. Still, the meal had been good, even if she'd felt compelled to push Sheelagh to leave soon after – for both their sakes. Sam needed to focus on the case and Sheelagh didn't need to hear anything unexpected at the moment. That was why she'd reluctantly forced her to go and spent a lengthy night poring through case files. It was ironic but typical that she didn't make her breakthrough until the next morning, just prior to the interview.
Cracking Kennedy had felt phenomenal in some respects. However, it had also made her feel foul. That said, what happened afterwards had made her accept exactly who she was these days. That was how she knew her priorities had inexorably shifted. She'd just booked Kennedy in when she felt Sheelagh's presence along the corridor. Before she could speak, she found herself wrapped in her arms and she immediately knew that the only way she was going to feel better was by laying her cards on the table once and for all. Dealing with Kennedy had reminded her that she didn't want to be anything like him, the same way that dealing with Pat Kitson and Peter Baxter had all that time ago. The only way she could prove that she'd changed was to put herself out there and, after all, she'd promised herself that she'd do it as soon as the rapist investigation was over. Grabbing the bull by the horns, so to speak, was what she was famous for and she needed to do it right there and then.
That's why she'd asked Sheelagh to come to the community event at The Lord Banbury. She'd wanted to talk to her, whatever the outcome, although that had obviously gone disastrously wrong. The trouble was, as soon as that bomb had exploded and she found herself thrown across the pub, she was hit by two conflicting emotions. On the one hand, her concrete thought had been that she loved her daughter and she loved Sheelagh. It came as one sharp combination shock. However, on the other hand, she'd been hit by the fragility of their lives in that instant. The sensation had only solidified when she caught sight of the horror on Sheelagh's face as she passed through the crowd – evidently looking for her – and she'd felt as though she had no option but to back away again. How could she push Sheelagh to accept her feelings when danger was lurking around every corner? And vice versa, for that matter. Yes, she'd admit that the fear of losing Sheelagh had overtaken her in that moment and she'd completely succumbed to it.
The next day she'd been intent on avoiding Sheelagh as much as was practicable without upsetting her but then Gina had taken the decision out of her hands by dragging them both along for a drink. That had been one hell of a night. Throughout the course of it, she'd learned that Gina had split with Jonathan but that didn't dispel any of the awkwardness.
Gina had been goading her – there was no other word for it. When Sheelagh had gone to the bar to replenish their drinks, Sam had been subjected to a sustained attack from a woman who knew all her weaknesses and was apparently intent on exploiting them.
'What are you playing at, Samantha?' she questioned.
'I'm trying to have a nice drink,' she shot back. 'How about you?'
'Since I got back you've done your level-best to avoid me,' Gina said.
'I've been in the middle of a massive investigation,' she argued, though the element of truth probably shone in her face. Talking to Gina always made her feel vaguely uneasy, as if the word 'coward' was going to be bandied about freely and publicly, as with Abi. With Gina in an odd frame of mind that night, she was rightfully cautious.
'Which is why I've left you be,' replied Gina. 'But you've told her nothing.'
She drummed her fingers on the table. 'With respect, this isn't anything to do with you. Me and Sheelagh are fine.'
Gina snorted. 'That's stretching it a bit, isn't it? You turn up on her doorstep in the middle of the night, tell her you're sorry for being a prize bitch and that's that? What's happened to you, Samantha, hmm? I used to respect you.'
'I'm not discussing this,' she warned.
'Well, we could always wait until she gets back and see what she thinks,' Gina answered.
Swallowing, Sam chanced a look at the bar then muttered, 'Don't do this.'
'She could've gone, you know that?' pressed Gina. 'She got demoted and she accepted that. The only reason she's still at this nick is because of you.'
'I know that,' she ground out.
'Then why aren't you doing anything about it?' Gina pressed.
'It's not that simple,' she hissed. Another glance at Sheelagh and she was caught this time. Flushing, she injected more anger than necessary into her next words: 'Her son's been done for homophobic GBH, directly because of me.'
That derailed Gina slightly. 'He knows?'
'Yes, he knows,' she replied. 'He hasn't said it outright, but he didn't have to. So when he then starts gay-bashing, what am I meant to do with that, hmm? Her life's hard enough without me making things worse.'
'Any excuse, isn't it?' asked Gina after a moment. 'Anything to put it off a bit longer.'
'That's not true,' she lied. 'Look, she's coming back. Just keep it zipped, okay?'
Course, that wasn't exactly Gina Gold's style. When Sheelagh returned, she revealed that she'd split up with Jonathan. It explained a lot but simultaneously set them up for another round in the ring. Hearing that the dedicated Inspector Gold had considered walking away from the job had actually shaken her a little bit – Sam's instinct was to go on the defensive again until she'd become seriously worried what Gina might say in the heat of anger. If she was in her right mind, she wouldn't threaten her but she'd had a few and she was hurting. They were very similar in the fact that they'd lash out rather than deal with emotions appropriately and poor Sheelagh was caught in the crossfire. Sam had been aware she was treating her strangely when she asked her to go call a cab but it was all she could think of to stem the tide.
Left alone again, she'd told Gina, 'You need to back off.'
'And you need to get your head out of the sand,' Gina retorted.
'I'm dealing with this in my own way,' she said. 'Look, if this was the other way round, you'd be spitting feathers at me. Just stay out of it.'
'I can't,' Gina answered with an unusual lilt in her voice. 'You're a bloody fool, Samantha, and I'm sick to death of it. That woman loves you.'
Sam glanced over her shoulder. 'Will you keep your voice down?'
'Why?' Gina challenged.
'I can't do this,' she insisted. 'I'm not putting her through it.'
Gina snorted. 'Or yourself.'
'Yes!' she snapped. 'Okay, you're right. I'm being utterly selfish, as per usual. In which case, why would you wanna encourage me, hmm? I'd be no good for her, all I'd do is make her miserable. That's what I do, just ask Abi if you don't believe me.'
With that, she'd managed to shut Gina up, at least for the time being. Though she evidently had a lot to say, she didn't say it and then Sheelagh came back. The ten minutes until the taxi arrived were excruciating and her heart was in her mouth when Gina piped up again. But she'd been much calmer, much more heartfelt, and, as such, her words about learning a lesson struck deeper than her barbed threats earlier in the evening. Sam had got into the cab already battered and the conversation with Sheelagh about 'having it all' didn't help, especially when she felt the physical urge to comfort her after Niamh was mentioned. Pulling Sheelagh close and kissing her head wasn't exactly the way to rid herself of the twisting in her stomach but it was the right thing to do. No matter what she'd said to Gina, she wasn't as selfish as all that. If she had been, she wouldn't still be putting herself through this torture on a daily basis. A selfish person didn't do that, although she'd be hard-pressed to convince Abi of that difference.
The next morning she'd gone in search of Gina, for her own peace of mind if nothing else. If, on the off chance that Gina was going to torpedo her friendship with Sheelagh, she needed a bit of warning. However, as soon as she caught sight of her in the corridor, Sam knew that wasn't going to happen.
'I'm sorry,' Gina said pre-emptively as they met.
Sam waved that away, more relieved than anything. 'Maybe I asked for it. I know you're right,' she continued as they began walking back towards the back staircase, 'but I can't click my fingers and sort this out. I don't know how. And I'm not lying when I say I'm worried about Connor.'
'You don't have to explain yourself to me,' replied Gina. 'I'm in no position to talk, am I?'
She hadn't known what to say to that, so she'd just patted her arm and returned upstairs, satisfied in the knowledge that relations between her and Gina were back on an even keel and she had nothing to fear from that department.
However, it turned out she'd been right to be concerned about Connor. Learning that same day that he'd been implicated in the pub bombing had made her feel physically sick. It'd been Jack who'd told her, calling her into his office on a pretext and gently asking her to sit down.
'What's wrong, Guv?' she'd asked.
'We've identified a suspect in the bombing,' he explained. 'It turns out that the Super probably wasn't the target. Another officer received a text message just before the blast asking him to meet by the toilets.'
'Where the bomb exploded,' she answered, still at a loss. 'Guv, why are you telling me this? I wasn't a target, I didn't receive any message.'
'No,' he conceded. 'PC Powell did.'
An icy sensation settled in her stomach, though she made a supreme effort to mask it in front of Jack. 'Who's the suspect?' she questioned coolly.
'The only other person who had Lance's new number was Connor Murphy,' he said bluntly.
She closed her eyes briefly. 'Right. Is there any other evidence?'
'We're waiting on it,' he answered. 'There's nothing to say either way yet.'
Surveying him shrewdly, she pressed, 'But?'
He sighed. 'Well, it's highly likely he's involved at the very least. And there's something else.'
'Sheelagh knows,' she muttered. When he nodded, she rose and crossed the office, trying to avoid looking at him until her face was clear. Finally, she turned around. 'How is she?'
'Well, we haven't spoken personally,' he answered, 'but I got the impression from Lance she was very upset about it.'
'I bet she was,' Sam said.
The homophobia that she herself had witnessed in Connor, coupled with Sheelagh's apparent aversion to accepting her own feelings, meant that she was probably going out of her mind at the moment. Phil's assertion that Connor wouldn't hurt his mother following the GBH suddenly seemed misguided – Sheelagh could well have been in that pub, she'd been on her way. It was the height of irony that Sam had planned to talk to her about the very thing Connor seemed to have such a problem with. Did he hate homosexuality so much that he'd risk hurting his own mum? Somehow, Sam couldn't picture it. Whatever home life she'd imagined for Sheelagh before all the Des business, the kids in that vision were happy and intelligent. They didn't go around trying to hurt people – that's what she'd assumed. She trusted her instincts on most things, but her experience of Connor Murphy and his crimes didn't correlate with that. She wanted to believe that any child of Sheelagh's would be generous and loving. Then again, she was still trying desperately to believe that Sheelagh wouldn't slap her in the face if she knew what she thought about when she fell asleep at night.
After a moment, Jack asked, 'What are your thoughts?'
'Innocent till proven guilty,' she said with a shrug. 'I'm not in the business of convicting without evidence, Guv.'
'I was asking for your opinion, that's all.' He paused. 'You know him. Do you think he's capable of this?'
She crossed her arms. 'Do I think he could plant a bomb that might hurt his mum? No.'
Jack studied her carefully then questioned, 'What if he was under the impression Sheelagh wouldn't be at the pub? Did she intend on going?'
'I don't know,' she lied. She knew full-well that she'd talked Sheelagh into it; there was every chance Connor didn't believe she'd be at The Lord Banbury. 'I can't help you, Guv.'
He'd reluctantly let her go, though he seemed to know she wasn't telling him the whole truth. She couldn't care less – it was one thing having her own concerns about Connor, but she certainly wasn't going to sell Sheelagh's son down the river without some hard evidence. The text message was circumstantial at best, something she tried to cling onto for the rest of the day.
Then she'd heard from Debbie that a search had been made of Connor's room and they'd found the phone used to send the message. Suddenly, things took on a darker tint. It was one thing for Connor to be tangentially related to the text, quite another to have the phone in his possession. Still, Sam had been acutely aware that Sheelagh was doing her damndest to keep her distant from all this again. She hadn't heard a thing from her; hadn't seen her, didn't even know how she was doing. Once again, whether Sheelagh knew it or not, she was keeping her at arm's length for a reason.
Connor had been arrested. By mid-afternoon, the nick was positively swirling with rumours and Sam didn't need to listen too carefully to work out what was going on. She could've got away with eavesdropping to put the pieces together but she'd seen Tony Stamp heading out on the beat with Honey and been struck by an impulse to know more about the arrest. Catching his eye, she motioned him into the corner.
'You were the arresting officer, weren't you?' she'd questioned.
He nodded. 'She held up well, considering.'
That he'd jumped to the conclusion that her concern was solely for Sheelagh's reaction gave her pause. Surveying his face, she realised that he was another one who'd clocked the truth and, of course, why wouldn't he? In the past he'd noted her friendship with Sheelagh and since the world and his wife seemed to have spotted the spark between them, an astute copper like Tony wouldn't have had any trouble. Unlike Sheelagh, he wasn't subconsciously ignoring it, after all.
'Do you think he's guilty?' she queried after a few seconds.
'He seemed genuinely incredulous about being arrested,' Tony replied. 'He was fighting with another fella when we got there and he was adamant we arrest him as well.'
'Thanks,' she said thoughtfully before returning to CID.
As hard as she'd tried to work that afternoon, her pile of paperwork didn't seem to diminish. Then Debbie had come upstairs, apparently specifically to tell her what was going on with Connor. Although Sam was fairly convinced that DS McAllister wasn't bright enough to put the pieces together, it was still a strange sensation. She'd told her that Connor had been released without charge after giving them a lead which had brought the real culprit to justice. It had been one of his friends, Debbie said, and Connor was waiting in custody for his mum.
Despite her brain telling her to stay put, Sam had found herself walking downstairs, needing to see for herself how Sheelagh was coping with all this. She'd found Connor alone in custody and she'd stopped short in the corridor. The boy looked broken and she didn't know what to do with that. The Connor she was familiar with was combative and belligerent, more a man than a teenager. But, now, he looked frightened and small, seeming more like Sheelagh than Sam had ever noticed before. Suddenly, he glanced up to meet her eye and she froze.
Then, from behind her, Sheelagh arrived. Sam had heard her footsteps, had known innately who it was, and had straightened up ready to deal with it. But Sheelagh had walked straight past her without so much as a look, had hugged her son before leading him past her, again without so much as a glance. That stung a ridiculous amount, although she tried to bury it and returned to her desk. What else could she do?
Yesterday, the day after Connor's arrest and release, had been downright strange.
After a restless night, she'd just wanted to avoid Sheelagh as much as possible. She hadn't known what to say or how to overcome the gulf of secrets that seemed to have come between them. However, walking out of CID and finding Sheelagh on the landing had shaken her up. It was suddenly as though nothing had happened, which was completely baffling in one respect. Yet, in another, that was exactly how they seemed to operate. Brushing things under the carpet – Des, Cavanaugh and now Connor – had become part of an unbreakable pattern for them. She wasn't certain how they could carry on like this, but Sheelagh just had to look at her with warm affection and Sam truly didn't think she could live without her.
That conversation had ended with Sheelagh brushing her hand through her hair. Whether it had been accidental or not, it had triggered something in Sam that she found it exceedingly difficult to banish. Once again, she was back to thinking that the situation was untenable. Her axis shifted again later that day when she rose from her desk and caught sight of Sheelagh standing by Cass's memorial tree. Sense told her to stay put so, of course, she'd gone down there to join her.
What had followed was another bizarre conversation that left her more than a bit uneasy. They'd got to talking about the danger of the job and Sheelagh had admitted that she'd fleetingly wished she'd died instead of Juliet. That idea had horrified Sam, but she'd been even more alarmed by Sheelagh's simple statement that Sam had got her through it. All she'd been able to say was that was what friends did, feeling the words choke her. Maybe Sheelagh had heard the lilt because something shifted in the air and Sam was intensely relieved when they were interrupted.
She hadn't seen Sheelagh again yesterday and she'd had another restless night. That had triggered another row with Abi this morning when she'd used all the hot water trying to bring herself round and Abi had kicked off. By the time she got into work, she was in a terrible mood and that wasn't helped by Manson warning her to get her outstanding case files up to date by close of play or else. She was doing her best to get through it all when Phil plopped into the chair beside her.
'Got a riddle for ya,' he said.
Looking up, she sighed. 'I'm really not in the mood, Phil.'
'Oh, you'll like this,' he replied with a smirk. 'What was a lad who's been done for homophobic assault doing hanging around a gay bar last night?'
She dropped her pen on the desk. 'What's he done now?'
'Come out, apparently,' he said.
'Excuse me?' she questioned. Scanning his face, she searched for the lie but didn't find it and then she took a long breath while she attempted to order her thoughts. It wasn't easy but there was one idea flashing in neon at the front of her mind. 'Does Sheelagh know?'
'Considering she was there with him...yeah,' Phil answered.
Now she felt flat-out dizzy. 'Where are you getting this from?'
Shrugging, he said, 'The horse's mouth.'
'Are you really telling me that Sheelagh spent last night in a gay bar?' she asked, a little desperately. When he nodded, she stood up, her legs nearly giving out. 'I need some air.'
Although his chuckle followed her through CID, she didn't give him the satisfaction of glancing back. She wasn't sure what she looked like at the minute, but her abject confusion wasn't something she wanted to share with Phil Hunter. There was only one person in the nick she could countenance talking to about this so, instead of going out for fresh air, she went straight down to Gina's office. The door was open and she had no qualms about going inside and closing it behind her. Quite when she'd begun to use Inspector Gold as her own personal agony aunt was beyond her, but she couldn't start worrying about it now.
Gina glanced up. 'Problem?'
'Connor Murphy,' she said without preamble. 'Have you heard anything about him since the bombing allegation?'
'How do you mean?' Gina queried.
'Has there been any gossip about him?' she clarified.
'What do you mean – gossip?'
Answering a question with a question – it was standard interview technique and Sam didn't appreciate it being turned back on her. Irritated, she forced herself to sit down and speak calmly to someone who was, after all, meant to be on her side.
'Apparently,' she said slowly, 'Connor's gay. Did you know about that?'
'I had heard, yes,' Gina replied.
Sam frowned. 'Who told you?'
'Sheelagh did,' said Gina after a long moment. 'An hour ago, maybe less.'
'Well, why hasn't she told me?' Sam asked. 'Is she okay? Is it true she was in a gay bar last night?'
Raising an eyebrow, Gina chuckled. 'She missed that bit out. Who've you been talking to?'
'She told Phil,' Sam said. 'Don't ask me why, I don't know.'
She felt the need to be on her feet again. Pacing around the small office, she tried to get some oxygen into her brain. Everything seemed to be slipping about all over the place. Yesterday, she'd had the certainty that Connor was homophobic and Sheelagh was inclined to follow his lead. Today, though, the knowledge that Connor was gay and that Sheelagh had spent the evening in a gay bar had rattled her again. She didn't appreciate feeling this confused, and she certainly didn't like being unable to brush it off by burying herself in work. That was her default position and, somehow, Sheelagh had taken that alternative away from her. If she could hate her for it, she gladly would.
Gina stood and cleared her throat. 'I do have work to do so maybe I can speed this up a bit. You're wondering what this all means,' she continued. 'You'd convinced yourself that Connor was a threat, something that'd come between you and Sheelagh. Turns out he's gay so bang goes that obstacle. You'd also convinced yourself that Sheelagh couldn't handle any inkling of homosexuality, hadn't you? Then she goes and supports her son, like any decent mother would. Bang goes another obstacle. You're wondering what's left. Because if that lot's out of the way then what does that leave, am I right?'
'No,' she lied. She hated how easily Gina could read her these days. 'I should let you get back to work.'
Although she rolled her eyes, Gina let her go without another word. At least out in the corridor Sam didn't have to school her face into complete impassiveness. It took effort that she needed more urgently to sort out the tangle in her brain. Because, of course, Gina was right. This could change everything.
For the rest of the day she stuck to CID as much as possible. While she knew her mind wasn't completely on the job, she at least made a dent in her paperwork that would appease Manson and she hadn't put herself in the way of Sheelagh all day. That was something to celebrate, she decided as she packed up at the end of the day; even if she had skipped lunch to achieve it.
Most people had already gone. She wasn't expecting to encounter anybody as she left CID so finding Sheelagh sat in the corridor in civilian clothes was quite a surprise. As much as she wanted to resent the intrusion, she couldn't. Just seeing Sheelagh sat there – quite obviously waiting just for her – sent a thrill through her body. Then, as usual, she made a concerted effort to mask it.
'Hey,' she said carefully. 'You okay?'
Sheelagh stood, a tired smile on her face. 'Can I buy you dinner?'
'Oh, erm...' She rapidly tried to come up with a plausible excuse but her mind had gone blank.
'Please,' Sheelagh said. She stretched a hand out tentatively to her arm and Sam shivered at the contact. 'I could really do with talking to you.'
That was an argument she couldn't really counter and maybe Sheelagh knew that. So, not trusting herself to speak, Sam just shrugged and indicated for them to walk downstairs. When she fell into step beside her, Sheelagh was much closer than necessary, much closer than was entirely comfortable. Stepping out into the pleasant evening, Sam deliberately tried to put a bit of distance between them but Sheelagh edged closer again.
'Where do you wanna go?' Sam asked, mainly for something to say.
'The Italian round the corner?' Sheelagh suggested. 'They're quiet on a weeknight.'
'Sounds good,' she said. 'Let me drop my bag off at the car. Why don't you wait here?'
She was searching for a little time to acclimatise to the idea of dinner, but Sheelagh didn't seem inclined to let her out of sight. Although she didn't speak, she followed her across the car park, giving Sam no chance to think about anything beyond the fact that they were going to be in close proximity for at least an hour. Dumping the bag into the boot of the car, she studiously avoided looking at Sheelagh as they walked the short distance to the restaurant. Given that she couldn't form sensible words at the moment, she hadn't a clue how they were going to get through dinner.
As Sheelagh had anticipated, the restaurant wasn't busy and they were given a quiet table in the corner. Sam busied herself with studying the menu in detail, barely noticing when Sheelagh ordered them both a glass of wine. Only when the waiter returned with the drinks and to take their order did she realise that she hadn't said a word since they were outside the nick and it was probably starting to seem odd. More to the point, the longer she remained silent the more opportunity Sheelagh had of studying her silence and, in her experience, that was dangerous.
So she ordered lasagne before taking a sip of wine and questioning, 'How are things?'
Sheelagh settled back in her seat. 'It's been one heck of a week, all told. Well, ever since that bomb went off really. I'm sorry I haven't spoken to you about it before but... It's difficult.'
'You don't have to explain,' she answered.
'No, I do,' Sheelagh said firmly. 'I walked straight past you the other day without saying a word. In custody, do you remember?' She waited for Sam's nod before continuing, 'That was unforgiveable, I'm sorry.'
'It's fine,' she replied. 'Honestly.'
'It doesn't excuse it,' Sheelagh went on after a few moments, 'but I was a bit all over the place. After Connor was interviewed about the bombing, he – he admitted to me that he's gay.'
While the news wasn't a surprise, Sheelagh's forthright way of telling her prompted Sam's genuine expression of shock. She'd expected it to continue to be one of those things that they ignored – an open secret that they just didn't talk about because it threw up too many problems. For Sheelagh to outright address it was unexpected, and Sam covered her sudden unease with another gulp of wine.
'You're surprised,' said Sheelagh eventually. 'I was too. At first, I couldn't deal with it.'
'At first?' Sam repeated. Then she recognised the lilt of hope in her voice and moderated her tone. 'I suppose you hadn't seen it coming.'
Sheelagh held her gaze. 'I should've. What kind of mother does that make me? My son was going through something huge and I did my best to ignore it.'
'You've had a lot on,' Sam said. 'It's been a bad year, no one can blame you for...'
'Burying my head in the sand?' Sheelagh supplied with a wry chuckle. 'Oh, I think I can blame myself, thanks very much. I should've seen it. I should've listened when Lance tried to tell me, but I couldn't accept it. I didn't wanna know.'
Never before had Sam wanted a meal to arrive so quickly. At the moment she'd take it clap cold with the meat still bloody rather than have to think on her feet in this way. Usually, she thrived on her ability to handle stuff like this, but Sheelagh was, as ever, the exception to her rule and she was terrified of putting her foot in it. What she needed was a diversion or a break, something to give her time to measure her words, but nothing was forthcoming and Sheelagh was studying her steadily. She needed to say something and it'd better be something bland or she'd get herself into more trouble.
'You're not to blame,' she said eventually. 'We don't always see what's going on in front of us but if you get there...' She halted and cleared her throat. 'I saw the way that Connor hugged you in custody. He'll forgive you anything, you're his mum.'
'I hope so,' Sheelagh replied. 'I made a hash of it at first, but I tried to make amends yesterday. I hope it was enough.'
'What happened?' Sam questioned, reasoning that the more Sheelagh talked, the less she'd have to.
Clasping her hands together on the table, Sheelagh took a few seconds. 'When I woke up yesterday morning, I was...' She paused. 'Well, actually, I didn't wake up yesterday morning. I didn't sleep.'
'You were pretty coherent for somebody who hadn't slept,' remarked Sam.
'Probably picked that up from you,' Sheelagh quipped before sobering again. 'No, I got through, but I wasn't feeling great. Anyway, I went to church – which made things worse – then I talked to a few people and that helped.'
Sam looked up sharply. 'Who?'
'You, for a start,' Sheelagh said. 'You made me feel normal again. There was I thinking that everything had changed and, really, nothing had. Connor's still my son and I still love him. I spoke to Lance, I asked him how he managed to be gay and a Christian at the same time. It was...interesting. It helped.'
This was getting a little too close for comfort. Sam took another lengthy sip of her wine and scanned the restaurant for the waiter but to no avail. She needed time to process all this stuff Sheelagh was throwing at her, to steady herself before she said something stupid.
'Connor went AWOL,' Sheelagh continued finally. 'I couldn't get hold of him; I was starting to get worried. So I roped Lance and his partner into a little outing. Have you met Mark Rollins?'
Startled by the continuous stream of honesty, Sam just shook her head.
'He's with SO19,' explained Sheelagh, 'a lovely guy. Anyway, I left a message for Connor to meet me at a gay bar and he did. We talked and then he made sure I got home before I collapsed.'
'He's a good lad,' Sam murmured.
Sheelagh smiled warmly. 'You know, he really is. Everything that's happened over the last months... It all seemed so black, but I understand now. I mean, we've still got a GBH charge to deal with, but I recognise him again now. We'll get through it. He says he wants to live with me permanently, only stay with Patrick for the odd weekend.'
'How will that work?' Sam questioned. 'Will Patrick mind? What about Declan?'
When Sheelagh's lips twitched again, Sam suddenly realised that these were personal questions, beyond the boundaries usually reserved for Sheelagh's home life. It had never exactly been an open book, thanks to reticence on both their parts, and Sam remembered the acute exclusion she'd felt after dropping Sheelagh and Niamh home from the hospital. This was different; something was different.
'He doesn't want to tell Patrick yet,' Sheelagh admitted. 'Or anyone actually. He's managed to keep the assault charge away from them, he hasn't even told Siobhan and they're close.'
'Not so close to Declan?' Sam asked.
'They're pretty different,' said Sheelagh. 'Connor's always been the quiet one, Declan's a bit more energetic. They rub each other up the wrong way sometimes, especially sharing a room. That's why it's been easier for them to swap back and forth. In the short term, I don't think Declan'll mind staying with Patrick. It's closer to his school and his friends; my place is closer to Connor's work. It's an excuse but it'll work for now. Once Connor feels a bit more secure, we'll sit them all down. That'll be fun,' she concluded wryly.
Sam chuckled. 'I have to say, you're handling this really well.'
'What choice have I got?' Sheelagh returned. 'There's nothing I can do except come to terms with the way things are.'
'Very philosophical,' commented Sam. 'You definitely didn't pick that up from me.'
Sheelagh's laugh tingled along her spine. 'No, I can safely say I didn't.'
Although she hadn't realised it, Sam had relaxed dramatically in the last few minutes. The conversation had shifted from quicksand to something rockier but a little more stable and she felt as though she could keep it on safe territory. While she'd been looking out for the waiter beforehand, now it was a bit of a surprise when their plates arrived. Looking at the lasagne reminded her how little she'd eaten today and she tucked in with relish. Across the table, Sheelagh smirked at her.
'What?' Sam queried when she'd swallowed a gigantic mouthful.
Twirling a piece of spaghetti around her spoon, Sheelagh replied, 'You skipped lunch again. You've got that look in your eye. I'm sure you'd waste away if it was left down to you. Is it any wonder I have to look after you? Unless that's your master plan, DS Nixon?'
She covered herself with another bite of lasagne. Only when she'd chewed for far longer than necessary did she question, 'What makes you think I've got one?'
'Instinct,' Sheelagh said. 'If you clear your plate, I'll throw in dessert. All you have to do is behave yourself.'
'That's me doomed then,' she retorted.
Sheelagh quirked an eyebrow then concentrated on her own meal, eating an unruly portion of spaghetti in what Sam could only call an adorable manner. More than once, she found herself grinning, only to quickly stifle it when Sheelagh threw her a mock warning look. The whole situation was strange but sweet and Sam rather enjoyed being back in their old bubble. For the length of the meal it was just like old times then she imperceptibly sobered as she straightened her cutlery. Perhaps it was the way that Sheelagh had rested her chin in her hand as she watched her finish her food; it was the slightest bit unnerving.
Plucking the dessert menu out, Sheelagh handed it over. 'I suppose you've behaved.'
'Lucky me,' she replied. After glancing at it, she asked, 'Do you wanna share?'
'Sure,' Sheelagh said. 'Surprise me. You know what I like by now.'
The tone was playful, flirtatious even, and Sam's eyes lifted automatically. She didn't know what she expected to find but Sheelagh was busy responding to a text on her phone and, when she stowed it away in her pocket, her smile could've easily been nothing more than friendly. It was entirely plausible that Sam was hearing what she wanted to hear again.
'Connor,' Sheelagh explained, tapping her pocket. 'Now he's talking to me again he's checking on me every five minutes. Wanted to know where I am.'
'I hope you didn't tell him the truth,' Sam said as she waved to the waiter.
'Why not?' queried Sheelagh.
She decided to let that one slide, ordering them cheesecake and crème brule to share before leaning back in her chair and finishing off her wine. Talking about Connor's antipathy towards her would lead them back to swampy ground and she still hadn't had enough time to herself to think what his sexuality meant in the bigger picture. It was much better to maintain the relaxed atmosphere that had somehow overtaken them instead of dwelling on the complexities.
Then Sheelagh asked, 'Did you hear that Gina patched things up with Jonathan?'
'No,' she said. 'I haven't really seen her. I'm pleased though. She was a bit of a menace without him.'
'As opposed to being all cuddly and non-threatening when she's in love?' Sheelagh offered.
Sam nearly choked on her wine. 'Are you trying to make sure I never look at her in the same way again?'
'Oh, come on,' Sheelagh replied, 'I'd say that ship's sailed, wouldn't you? Too many late nights and glasses of Scotch. You used to be quite the intimidating pair, locked away in that office.'
'Intimidating to you?' Sam questioned, unable to help herself.
'You've never managed to intimidate me,' said Sheelagh with a soft smile. 'I had you worked out from day one, you know.'
Now it was Sam's turn to rest her chin in her hands. 'Really?'
'Sure,' Sheelagh answered. 'You were trying so hard to hold it all together about Joanna's disappearance. Maybe if I'd been around a bit longer, I would've been fooled, but I saw right through it. You were petrified and I wanted to help. I suppose that's why I got stuck in so quickly,' she added. 'I was trying to take some of the pressure off your shoulders.'
'You did,' Sam said quietly. Then she bit down on her lip, a memory swirling in her head. 'After we found Angel's body, after I'd been to tell Eva... Do you remember that night?'
'Of course I do,' Sheelagh returned. 'Looking back, I can't believe you let me in like you did.'
'It was a perfect storm,' admitted Sam. 'I was scared and... I doubted my own ability to find Joanna. If you hadn't arrived in the middle of that investigation, I doubt we'd have exchanged more than three words. Then you'd have been intimidated, just like everyone else.'
Sheelagh shook her head. 'I'm not convinced. I think it was meant to be. All of it,' she went on, a shadow crossing her face, 'everything that's happened since I came to Sun Hill. I have to believe that, otherwise I'd go mad.'
Sighing, Sam stretched across the table and took her hand, feeling the warmth of fingers press into her own. She didn't say anything; she got the impression that she didn't need to. Sheelagh swallowed and met her eye, managing a smile that sliced straight into Sam's heart. It reminded her that they'd gone through that together; Sheelagh had once said she'd been the only other person to know Niamh and she was right. Whatever lies and half-truths were between them, that had been crystal-clear honest love, nothing less. It was lucky Sheelagh didn't expect her to articulate any of that because she'd make a fool of herself. From the look on her face, it seemed she'd managed to convey it all without a word.
They stayed like that for a minute until the waiter brought the desserts out. Sam cleared her throat and withdrew her hand, happy to hide behind the cheesecake for a little while. Sheelagh seemed to be of the same mind with the crème brule but, when they swapped, their eyes met again. Afterwards, Sam wasn't sure who looked bashfully away first, but she felt the blush burn her face while she finished her dessert. When she pushed her plate away, Sheelagh was quick to signal for the bill and Sam made the deliberate decision not to challenge her determination to pay for it. The glass of wine had loosened her tongue and she was a bit concerned what she might say given half the chance if the evening was prolonged further.
As they stood, though, she fumbled with her jacket in her haste to get out of the restaurant. It dropped onto the floor and Sheelagh darted to retrieve it, shaking the wrinkles out and holding it up. Sam was irresistibly reminded of the meal they'd had after Sheelagh's demotion when she'd helped her on with her coat in a similar manner. The reversal was unsettling, but she still couldn't resist lingering a little as Sheelagh's breath tickled her ear. It could've been her imagination, but she was sure that Sheelagh's fingers drifted through her hair far more tenderly than necessary.
Unsteadily, Sam led the way out onto the street. The fresh air did her the world of good – until Sheelagh linked their arms together and steered her back towards the car park. All of a sudden, she couldn't think straight again. Intoxicated by a combination of wine and Sheelagh's presence, she found a question springing to her lips before she could keep it in.
'How does Lance do it?' she asked.
Sheelagh glanced sideways but didn't need prompting on what she was referring to. 'He sees it as part of the plan. He says it doesn't feel sinful, it feels right. It'd be a waste of energy to fight it.'
'Do you believe that?' Sam questioned.
'I'm starting to,' Sheelagh answered. 'When I went to see Father Donnell, he told me that to lose one child was hard, to lose a second was going to be almost unbearable.'
Incredulously, Sam tugged Sheelagh closer. 'He what?'
'Calm down,' said Sheelagh, rubbing her arm with her free hand. 'If you assault a priest, I'm not sure even you could talk your way out of it.'
Though she made a deliberate effort to swallow down her anger, it was difficult. She focused on the slight pressure of Sheelagh's fingers through her jacket, even if that just took her mind off on a different inappropriate tangent. The idea that a priest had the audacity to tell Sheelagh to abandon Connor given what she'd been through in the last year set her blood boiling but, more significantly, Sheelagh had apparently rebelled against that idea.
'I'm sorry,' Sam said as the car park loomed in front of them. 'I just can't believe he said that to you.'
'Neither could I,' Sheelagh replied. 'I was really struggling but then... Sometimes you know what's right, you don't need somebody with an agenda to tell you.'
'Even if that agenda's your religion?' Sam queried.
Somehow, Sheelagh edged even closer. 'There's a difference between the Church and faith.'
'I'll have to take your word for that,' returned Sam in as breezy a tone as she could manage.
She was grateful for the fact that her car was in sight. That said, she didn't particularly want to lose the weight of Sheelagh's shoulder against her own. Once again, around Sheelagh she was utterly confused and the discrepancy between what she wanted and what she should actually do seemed more like an ocean than ever. Now, however, she pulled herself together long enough to remember that she needed some breathing space and disentangled her arm as they reached her car.
'Thanks for dinner,' she said.
'Thanks for listening to me rabbitting on,' Sheelagh said. 'I feel better now I've talked about it all.'
'Anytime,' Sam replied.
About to reach for the door handle, she was startled when Sheelagh suddenly leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Abruptly, all the blood rushed to her face and she felt completely adrift. Common sense told her to look away as Sheelagh withdrew – just in case something showed in her expression – but she found their eyes locked instead. It'd be so easy to throw caution to the wind, so ridiculously easy...
'Goodnight, Sam,' Sheelagh murmured. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'
'Night,' she managed as she watched her weave through rows of car towards her own.
It took her a minute to realise that she was standing beside her own car like an idiot. Slowly, she slotted into the passenger seat and started the engine. In a bid to distract herself from the roar in her brain, she jabbed at the CD player but the opening strains of 'The Name of the Game' didn't do her any good. She switched it off again then caught sight of her furrowed brow in the rear-view mirror. With a sigh, she reversed out of the space and set off towards home.
Information overload was usually something she could cope with but, apparently, when it wasn't a professional scenario, she couldn't deal with it nearly as well.
Connor Murphy was gay. It made so much sense yet threw up its own set of questions.
On the one hand, his virulent homophobia might be as much self-loathing as anything directed specifically towards her. On the other, though, that hatred had manifested itself because he recognised her feelings for Sheelagh; there was no question of that. Whether his problem would go away now that he'd come to terms with his own sexuality was one important question.
Another – more important – one was what all this meant for Sheelagh. That something was different between them tonight was indisputable, although Sam hadn't a clue what it signified. Sheelagh's outright honesty this evening had certainly been disarming. In Sam's mind, it could mean one of two things: either Sheelagh was under the impression that Connor's behaviour was the main thing weighing her down and decided that unburdening herself would clear the air or... Well, the other option made her hands tighten on the steering wheel. What if Sheelagh was finally on her wavelength?
No, no, that was a ridiculous idea. There was no way that Sheelagh could've learned and accepted her feelings in such a short space of time, not without one hell of a battle. While Sam loved and respected her, she just didn't see it as plausible. Accepting Connor was something she had to do as a mother who'd already lost one child. If Father Donnell didn't see that then he was completely deluded as well as cruel. However, love for Connor didn't necessarily extend up to accepting her own feelings. Why would it? It was enough for Sheelagh to absorb that her son was gay with all the problems that created. Surely her subconscious would shield her from the more alarming truth. In one respect, Sam sincerely hoped it had – she didn't want Sheelagh to have to wrestle with it. Then again, from the look of her tonight, she wasn't doing much wrestling. That in itself was a reason why it couldn't possibly be true.
If Sheelagh even had an inkling of the truth, they'd be trapped in a minefield right now. As she drove, Sam thought back to the conversations they'd had since Connor's arrest in connection with the bombing and her conclusions solidified.
In custody, when she'd walked past her without a word, Sheelagh had definitely been shocked. That much was obvious in hindsight. Whether she'd been aware of her own feelings or not, they'd undoubtedly fed into her confusion about Connor's confession. Even if it was just subconsciously, she would've been unsettled. However, that little scene that Sam had witnessed in custody, when Sheelagh had hugged Connor, took on a flavour of its own now. It meant that love overrode everything else; even then, when she was still trying to acclimatise herself to the revelation. That was a good thing as far as Sam was concerned; even if she wasn't convinced it'd extend beyond Connor. There was no way on earth a mother like Sheelagh could countenance turning her back on her son and Father Donnell should've recognised that fact. That didn't mean, though, that Sheelagh would succumb to any introspection and deal with her own emotions.
Yesterday, Sam had seen Sheelagh twice – first on the upstairs landing then by Cass's memorial.
On the landing Sheelagh had been...her usual self. The affectionate touch to the neck had startled Sam but, really, it could've been an accident. It didn't mean a thing. Unless, of course, she coupled it with a similar incident tonight. She was beginning to feel a little dizzy and rolled the window down for a bit of fresh air. It washed over her like a wave and she took a few long gulps of oxygen before she allowed her mind to wander back along back down the rabbit hole.
Didn't that conversation on the landing simply prove her original point though? It was so normal – for them, at least – that it could signify that nothing had changed. The intimate physical contact could've been an accident or, really, nothing out of the ordinary as far as Sheelagh was concerned. Perhaps her head had been buried back in the sand and all she'd wanted was their friendship back on an even keel. That could even have been what tonight had been all about.
And yet... That conversation by Cass's memorial complicated matters.
She'd seen Sheelagh's pensive stance from upstairs in CID and felt compelled to approach. They'd talked about Cass and the job making life uncertain but Sam's trite response that getting Sheelagh through the last year was just what friends did had elicited a sigh and a strange look. She hadn't imagined that, although she hadn't thought much of it at the time. She'd put it down to exhaustion and confusion over Connor's homophobia. That evidently wasn't the case anymore. So could it be down to something else?
Nearing home, Sam slowed the car to a crawl. She needed to think as much of this out as possible and she wasn't certain she could do that with Abi's music thudding through the ceiling. Seeing someone flashing their lights behind her, she pulled over onto the kerb and watched the car zoom past her. He was obviously over the speed limit, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
Say that, yes, Connor's situation had prompted some sort of realisation on Sheelagh's part. Say that, by some miracle, she accepted it right off the bat with no struggle. Then what had tonight been about? Either a way to put the feelings aside and maintain their friendship or...something else.
Sam licked her lips, tasting the cheesecake again. She was a detective; she could fathom this out. There were three scenarios that ranged from the plausible to the extremely unlikely.
Say that Sheelagh had realised her feelings were less than platonic and had decided never to do anything about it. As Sam had reasoned earlier, it was one thing to accept Connor's sexuality, quite another to act on her own attraction. Sam knew she'd been fortunate to approach this without too much external baggage. She only had Abi who, ironically enough, was far more annoyed by her not acting on her feelings for Sheelagh than she would be if they actually got together. Sheelagh had three kids to worry about plus a deeply religious family hovering in the background. Whether or not her words about the Church being different to faith were heartfelt or not, there was still a lot in Sheelagh's life that could convince her it was best to accept and simply ignore. Besides, just because Connor had been struggling with his own sexuality, it didn't mean he'd now wholeheartedly accept any relationship between Sam and his mother. Siobhan, while obviously a bright and generous young woman, was practically an unknown quantity and Sam was completely in the dark about Declan. It could well be that Sheelagh had decided the complications were insurmountable. Perhaps that had even aided her in a swift acceptance of her feelings – if you knew you weren't going to do anything about it then acknowledgement was no disastrous thing, was it?
But, then, how did tonight fit into that scenario? Sam tapped her hands on the steering wheel.
It could've been a way of re-establishing their friendship. The secrets between them had mounted up and Sheelagh was trying to put more things out in the open, to put them on the same footing they'd been on before.
However, Sam's analytical brain began picking holes in that scenario instantly. If Sheelagh had been intent on friendship alone then why take her out for dinner? She'd insisted on paying, treated it almost like a . . . date. Sam knew exactly how that felt from the other side of the table because she'd been there. That week before she'd gone to Birmingham, when they'd eaten together three nights running, the first night had been at the bar she liked – she was beginning to think of it as their bar now. That meal had been similar to the meal tonight; flirtatious, overflowing with honesty. That night, Sheelagh had told her she wasn't getting back with Patrick. It had been a momentous twist, just like talking about Connor's sexuality had been momentous this evening. It changed things. When Sam had driven her home, Sheelagh had kissed her cheek then as well. If she compared that kiss to the one tonight then something felt different. Back then, Sheelagh's affection had been unrestrained; tonight, it had been almost calculated. If she was truly trying to keep them only as friends then why would she put them in close proximity like that? The closest comparable situation Sam could recall was following her own epiphany, when she'd visited Sheelagh in the Sergeants' Office after the resolution of the Jameson case. She'd been unable to resist kissing Sheelagh's cheek before she left, desperate to feel her skin against her lips. Couldn't that be what had happened tonight? They'd been on what felt like a date, Sheelagh had insisted on paying and walking her to her car then she'd kissed her goodnight. Wasn't that the way it had happened?
Sam growled and closed her eyes. What about scenario number two?
Say that Sheelagh had accepted how she felt but was totally in the dark about how Sam felt. Tonight could've been an attempt to analyse that, coupled with an extension of scenario one – she'd want to salvage their friendship if that's all it could ever be. Sam knew that particular impulse intimately. Now, anyone with half a brain knew that Sheelagh Murphy was gorgeous, funny, generous, loving, kind. It was almost impossible not to fall in love with her. However, it was highly probable that Sheelagh didn't see any of that because she was also endowed with an endearing sense of modesty. What if she was scratching around the surface tonight because she wasn't sure if Sam could reciprocate her feelings? It was almost possible, wasn't it? The list of people who had connected the dots – Gina, Abi, Eva, Jack, Manson, Phil, Tony, Connor – they were all looking from the outside in. The tangled web of secrets, confidences and half-truths between them could actually make things seem more complicated to Sheelagh than they actually were. She might believe that Sam had only ever acted in friendship and tonight was about determining that one way or the other.
That was still making assumptions Sam wasn't comfortable with though. It worked on the basis that Sheelagh had come round to the idea and was probing the possibilities of their friendship developing into something more after, what, a couple of days? No, that was so far from plausible that the very idea made her head spin. There was a vast leap between accepting an attraction and wanting to act on it in this case. The reasons not to were overwhelming and Sheelagh wasn't going to go against everything she believed in and believed to be true in merely the blink of an eye. It was implausible, the very idea that she was testing the waters tonight. And if that was implausible then scenario three...
Sam opened her eyes and gazed along the street, watching taillights winking at her.
Say that Sheelagh had accepted her feelings and knew that Sam felt the same because, after all, she'd been displaying it on a flashing neon sign for a year now, so it seemed. Say that tonight had felt like a date because it actually was one. Maybe it was nothing to do with re-establishing their friendship or gauging her feelings; maybe it was simply a meal between two people who wanted more than friendship out of the evening.
If she allowed herself to go down that route, it resolved the little niggles tickling at the back of her mind. It explained the unexpected honesty – Sheelagh was trying to start afresh and lay her cards on the table. Tonight had also given her the opportunity to discuss the problems that might impede their future relationship, such as the religion question. It had all linked to Connor but it could just as easily apply to Sheelagh herself. Talking about the way things were meant to be... That was pointed, wasn't it? This scenario explained the kiss as – as edging closer to what she really wanted and –
'No,' Sam said aloud. It echoed around the empty car.
On balance, the idea that Sheelagh still had no clue about their shared feelings was the much more realistic scenario. Tonight had been a meal between friends, nothing more than that.
Grinding the key in the ignition, she restarted the car and drove home, warning herself that by the time she stepped inside the house she wasn't going to spare another thought for all this frivolous rubbish. She'd worked hard being a friend to Sheelagh for the last eighteen months. She knew everything about her and she knew that she couldn't click her fingers and accept her feelings for another woman just like that, whether Connor had come out or not was irrelevant.
When she pulled up outside the house, she took herself inside without another moment of hesitation. Immediately, she wished she hadn't. Abi came out of the living room with a bowl of cereal in her hands and a scowl on her face. Sam steeled herself, dropping her bag to the floor before hanging up her coat.
'I hope that's not all you're eating for dinner,' she said lightly.
'Do you care?' Abi retorted.
'Amazingly, yes,' she answered. Turning, she walked past her into the living room. A DVD was paused on the television and it all looked pleasant and inviting. 'What are you watching?'
Abi shrugged as she returned. She put her cereal down and went through the motions of turning off the DVD. In fact, she turned the television off entirely, along with the two lamps in the room, and left it looking miserable, more like the room Sam was familiar was.
'You didn't have to do that,' she muttered. 'You could've watched your film.'
'Why would I have wanted to?' questioned Abi. 'I'd rather be upstairs out of the way.'
Sam sighed. 'Fine. Don't let me stop you.'
'Oh, you don't,' Abi said as she collected her bowl again. 'I've stopped caring what you do.'
'If that was true, you wouldn't sound so angry,' Sam pointed out just as she reached the door.
Abi spun around with fury blazing in her eyes. She'd always had a short fuse, just like Sam herself and it looked like it had exploded as she spat, 'Okay, so I think you're a coward. So what? It's true, isn't it? You said you'd talk to her and you haven't. You were just lying, like you always do.'
Instead of putting up a fight, she did the next best thing – she walked away. Going into the kitchen, she dug into the fridge and pulled out the remnants of a bottle of wine from the other night. When she drained it into a glass, it came right up to the brim and she immediately took a lengthy gulp right off the bat. It made her feel a bit more human and nearly able to deal with her daughter. It seemed she'd need all the help she could get as she turned around and found Abi glaring at her.
'You said you'd talk to her,' Abi repeated.
'It's not that easy,' she replied. 'Look, I'm not having this conversation with you.'
'What are you so scared of?' demanded Abi. 'Being happy? Being close to someone? Not being in control? That's it, isn't it? You're such a control-freak, you know that?'
Sam crossed her arms. 'Pick a question and I'll answer it. You get one, choose wisely.'
There was a lengthy silence while Abi considered her options. Then she asked, in measured tones, 'Why, when you love her and she loves you, are you standing here not doing anything about it?'
'Because it wouldn't work,' she said. It sounded thin, even to her own ears. 'Okay, it's...more complicated than that but it boils down to the same thing. It's not gonna happen.'
While she'd expected Abi's anger to reignite, instead tears filled her eyes. 'I think about it. What it'd be like if you had a life, Mum – if we had a life. You stole my father from me, and I get why you did that, but this is different. Sheelagh's not a murderer, she's –'
'I know,' she cut in. Taking another swig of wine, she added, 'This is my business.'
Snorting, Abi snapped, 'It's our business. We're meant to be a family.'
'I can't click my fingers and give you another parent,' she said.
'The thing is,' returned Abi, turning away, 'you could. But you won't.'
Leaving that thought hovering in the air, she finally left her be. Sam listened for the footsteps on the stairs and the familiar slam of a door before she exhaled and sat down at the table with her wine. It had been one hell of a day. This morning she'd believed Connor was homophobic and Sheelagh was in denial. Now everything had been shaken up. Who knew what another day in Sun Hill would do to her?
It was probably only thanks to the wine that she managed any sleep at all.
Abi had, rather ominously, disappeared before Sam even made it out of the shower. Perhaps it was for the best; arguments before work were the worst kind and they'd had more than their fair share in the past couple of years. Besides, after last night she didn't have a clue how to approach Abi's anxieties. She'd known full well that her daughter craved a family unit, but her explicitness had created an expectation Sam couldn't fulfil; not with Sheelagh. And if it wasn't with Sheelagh then it wouldn't be with anyone. She knew she couldn't feel this way about anybody else and, what's more, she didn't want to. Where that left her was one thing; where that left her and Abi was apparently another thing altogether.
Tired and irritable, she got into work and was assigned to a van theft with Ken. It was a bit nasty; the driver had cracked his skull open when he'd been pulled from his seat and there was potential brain damage. It'd be a while before he could say anything useful so, until then, they were following up the usual leads of witnesses and CCTV. It was proving fruitless, but the enquiries at least kept her mind busy. She did remember to have lunch anyway; although, working with Ken, she was hardly likely to forget.
She was concentrating on comparing witness accounts late in the day when her desk phone rang. For once, the noise was a welcome distraction from the headache brewing behind her eyes.
'Sarge,' Marilyn said, 'you're wanted in the front office.'
'I'm on my way,' she replied.
Resolving to grab herself a coffee on the way back upstairs, she trotted down the staircase with the promise of caffeine on the horizon to keep her going. Her bounce remained until she passed through the door and saw a familiar figure in the chairs holding two takeout cups and biting his lip. One glance at Marilyn's intrigued face told her that Connor Murphy was indeed her visitor and her stomach nearly dropped out.
On seeing her, he stood. 'DS Nixon, hi.'
'Can I help you, Connor?' she asked carefully.
'Outside?' he suggested.
She was as eager as he was to take this out of the front office. Gesturing towards the door, she tugged it open then followed him out into the bright, late summer's day. Her instinct was to take him as far away from the nick as possible, but he slowed her down by holding one of the cups out in front of her.
'I brought you this,' he said. 'You like it the same way as Mum.'
Uncertain how to take that, she accepted the cup and took a sip. Sure enough, it was her perfect coffee and, when she glanced back to Connor, she was slightly less guarded. He wasn't as confrontational as she remembered; in fact, there was so much of Sheelagh in his expression that it startled her.
'Thank you,' she said finally. 'Much as I appreciate the break, is there something you wanted? Does your mum know you're here?'
He nodded as they began strolling towards the road. 'I'm buying her dinner. I got a letter through this morning. The man I assaulted? He's decided to drop the charges.'
'That's great news,' she said sincerely. 'I bet your mum's over the moon.'
'She is,' he answered with a familiar smile. 'I know I've put her through hell in the last couple of months. I'm glad I don't have to put her through a court hearing on top of all that.'
'You're her son, Connor,' Sam said. 'She'd do anything for you.'
'I know that,' he said. 'I really do. That's why I'm here actually.'
Her caution reasserted itself. 'Oh?'
Halting on the pavement, he turned to her. 'Samantha – Sorry, do you mind if I call you that?'
'Sam,' she said.
'Sam,' he repeated, smiling again. 'I wanted to apologise to you.'
She shrugged. 'Apology accepted.'
'I don't think it's that simple,' he replied. The amusement in his eyes was also familiar and she felt as though she'd stepped into an alternate, rather cosy, reality. 'That's something though; that you'd forgive me without even hearing an explanation because you love her.'
Whatever she'd been expecting, a blunt reiteration of her feelings certainly wasn't it. She covered her discomfort with a long gulp of coffee then caught the kind expression on his face and was further unsettled. It was surreal to be having this conversation with him, almost as surreal as all the unlikely thoughts that had been swirling around her mind last night after her dinner with Sheelagh.
'You do love her,' Connor continued after a moment. 'Don't you?'
'You know I do,' she said. 'I think we established that pretty quickly. That doesn't mean I'm going to do anything that would hurt her, Connor,' she added swiftly. 'I promise you, you've got nothing to worry about.'
He watched her shrewdly over the rim of his coffee cup. 'What does hurting her entail exactly?'
'Well...' She trailed off, unable to respond because she didn't know what he wanted to hear. There was no other option but to seek refuge in something bland. 'She's had a horrible year. I wouldn't pile more pressure on her.'
'Is that what you think you'd be doing?' he queried. Sighing, he went on, 'Listen, I don't like some of the things she's done but... You care about her a lot. I know that. I saw that right from the start. I think that's what bothered me so much. I didn't want you to care about her; it threw up a lot of questions for me that I wasn't ready to answer. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?'
'Yes,' she murmured.
'I'm ashamed of myself,' he added with a wince. 'I was so scared of what I was feeling that I hurt innocent people. I'll never forgive myself for that – never.'
It was Sheelagh's son, she told herself as she squeezed his arm. There was no way she could see him torturing himself and not be compelled to make him feel better. It was the impulse she had with Abi, the impulse she had with Sheelagh, and it felt completely natural under the circumstances.
'You should,' she told him. 'I know it can't have been easy. Believe me, I do know that.'
'I bet you do,' he said. 'I'm sorry for giving you such a hard time, Sam. It was as much about me as it was about you and Mum.'
She swallowed. 'I don't want you to get the wrong end of the stick here, Connor. There's nothing going on between me and your mum.'
'Why is that?' he questioned, tilting his head to the side.
'I'm not sure that's an appropriate conversation for us to have,' she muttered.
'Don't do that,' he warned. 'I'm sure you do that a lot, don't you?'
Smiling, she replied, 'I'm not colluding with you, you know.'
'Why not?' he challenged.
'It's not appropriate,' she said.
'You like that word,' he returned with a chuckle. 'You didn't think it being appropriate when you fell for my mum, did you?'
'I think I preferred it when you hated me,' she retorted.
He grinned and sipped his coffee. 'I didn't hate you. You annoyed me, that's all.'
'The feeling's mutual right about now,' she pointed out, softening the effect of her words with a little smirk. Then she swung back towards the station. 'Come on, you're meant to be buying your mum dinner, not keeping me from my work.'
'Sorry, I know how inappropriate that must be,' he said.
As they walked, she cast a sidelong glance at him. His sudden maturity didn't surprise her too much – she knew how much more in control you felt when you accepted things – but she didn't know where he expected them to go from here. Nor, really, was she eager to get into these conversations with a teenage boy. Learning that she liked him, though... That was worth something, even if she wasn't quite sure what yet.
They'd just reached the doors when they opened and Sheelagh stepped outside. Sam tried to school her expression into mere friendliness, but it was tricky given how gorgeous she looked in simple jeans and a tight top. Clearing her throat, Sam shot a look towards Connor and found him more amused by her discomfort than anything else. When she turned her attention back to Sheelagh, she found amusement etched on her face as well and didn't know how to deal with it.
Sheelagh took the decision out of her hands by asking, 'Are you two ganging up on me?'
'Would that be so bad?' Connor questioned.
'I'm not sure I'd like it,' Sheelagh answered then her gaze shifted to Sam and it grew more intimate than jokey. 'How are you?'
Her mouth was dry. 'Good. You?'
'Good,' Sheelagh replied.
Connor glanced between them. 'Well, that's...good. Sam,' he went on quickly, 'why don't you come out for dinner with us?'
The offer startled her but she battled to keep her face clear. 'No, no,' she said. 'I erm... I've...'
'Got work to do,' supplied Sheelagh softly.
Sam looked over gratefully, catching the understanding smile on her face. 'Exactly. Maybe some other time.'
'I'll hold you to that,' Connor said. 'It's fun ganging up on her, you know.'
Sheelagh slapped his arm. 'Shush, you.'
Watching them, Sam couldn't help but relax a touch. While the idea of dinner tonight was a bit too overwhelming, especially considering that she needed to give this entire conversation with Connor some serious thought first, she couldn't help but look forward to the idea somewhere in the future. Her love for Sheelagh had been present for so long now but she finally saw the bigger picture, that thing that Abi had been ranting about – family. The barriers between the two areas of Sheelagh's life had been knocked down last night and now Connor was stomping through the rubble like...
Her chin raised suddenly as a thought struck her. Was it possible that she'd been tag-teamed by mother and son? First Sheelagh last night and now Connor asking to speak to her and seeming to encourage her to...
'No,' she murmured, gripping the cup in her hand until it squeaked. She only realised she'd said it aloud when both of them turned to look at her. 'I should get back to work,' she continued slowly. It wasn't much of a cover but it was the best she could concoct with the curious expression on Sheelagh's face right now.
'Sure,' Sheelagh said. 'Remember you don't live here.'
'I didn't quite catch that,' she returned as she moved to the door. 'Nice talking to you, Connor.'
'You too,' he called.
She resisted the urge to look back before she entered the office. However, after she'd swiped through to the staircase, she found her gaze drifting left. On the small landing, she succumbed to it entirely, halting and resting her arms on the banister.
Sheelagh and Connor were crossing the road towards the car park. As Sam watched, he wrapped an arm around his mum's shoulder and pulled her close then they both halted and Sheelagh turned to face him. She gave him a proper hug and said something that made them both chuckle before they began weaving their way through the cars. Sam couldn't tear her gaze away, though that meant she was caught when Sheelagh glanced back towards the nick. With any luck, she was too far away to know exactly who had been spying on her. Then again, Sheelagh always seemed to know, didn't she?
For the next couple of days she immersed herself in the van theft case. It became more of a priority since another couple of aggravated assaults with the same MO occurred and Sam only half-felt as though she was avoiding the whole Sheelagh situation by concentrating on her job.
Ken had been reassigned to a drugs case so when a fourth van attack was reported she attended with Debbie. This time, the robbers had got thousands of pounds worth of mobile phones but, unlike the whitewash of the previous cases, Debbie managed to obtain a partial index from a witness while they were dealing with the immediate aftermath at the scene.
'Great,' Sam said as they returned to the car. 'I'm fed up with those thugs giving me the run-around.'
'This sounds personal,' Debbie observed.
'You like being made a fool of?' she queried. 'That's the fourth load this week, it's like they're laughing at me.'
'And it took me coming on board to get a lead,' replied Debbie with a smirk.
Sam rolled her eyes and gripped the steering wheel. 'Maybe that makes you my lucky charm then. I'll ask the DI to permanently pair us together.'
Chuckling, Debbie looked sideways. 'Okay, you win. I got a lucky break, that's all.'
Back at the nick, they ran the partial index and came up with a registered owner but, unfortunately, while the guy had a criminal record, he also had an alibi. Neil was out of the office, so they took it straight to Jack and he recognised the name, mentioning that he used to work for a real hard man with two sons. That added a new slant to the 'Daddy' nickname one witness had reported at the scene and their next job was to track down the Olsons, hopefully along with the stolen gear.
From ten minutes on the street, it didn't look like the Olson family were exactly popular with their neighbours. After knocking on doors and getting no information that the family even lived there, she and Debbie were reluctantly going for another chat with the registered owner of the vehicle to see if he could shed any light on the matter when a car screeched around the corner. Sam was already back in their car by then but Debbie wasn't and both of them watched with interest as the car approached then sped up and carried on going.
For a moment Sam hoped she was seeing things but, no, she wasn't that lucky.
'Wasn't that Craig?' Debbie questioned. 'Brian Olson's youngest? Whoever that tart was, she sussed us pretty quickly.'
Sam bit back her growl. 'That's hardly surprising, is it? That tart's my daughter.'
A flicker of discomfort crossed Debbie's face but, really, Sam had far more to worry about than Debbie and her size nines.
As she drove, she tried to control her conflicting emotions. Her natural instinct as a copper was to be furious with Abi for consorting with a criminal family and that was complemented by her anger and anxiety as a mother. However, it was balanced out by a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with guilt. It wasn't as though she hadn't been fully aware that Abi was struggling and she knew her daughter well enough to understand that she acted out when she was hurt. At the end of the day, she was still a teenage girl. Sam forgot that sometimes and she seemed to have reverted somewhat to the way she'd treated her before Glenn. The row the other night – Abi's exhortations about family – had been indicative of the real problem. In the last year Sam knew she'd tried to juggle too many things and, perhaps, in her confusion and submersion of her feelings about Sheelagh, she'd completely lost sight of her daughter once again. She didn't know what to do with that guilt, nor did she know how to remedy the situation.
When they got back to the station, she tried desperately to get hold of Abi, but she wasn't answering her phone. She left a message, attempting to sound calm and reasonable when she felt anything but, then faced the next problem as Debbie came to hover over her while she was attempting to call the home phone.
'This is interesting,' Debbie said, holding up a photograph and tapping the figures in turn. 'Craig, Brian, Dean. Abi's got some interesting friends.'
Perhaps it was merely Sheelagh's influence on her personality that stopped Sam being quite as loathsome as Debbie seemed to be in this moment. Their camaraderie of earlier seemed long gone. Why was it that Debbie McAllister only wanted to knuckle down and do her job when there was a way of making her colleagues squirm? All she wanted to do right now was visit a pub where the knocked-off gear might be, probably in the hope of catching Abi in possession of a stolen phone.
Sam held up a hand. 'I'm sorry, Debbie, but I've gotta find Abi.'
'Yeah,' Debbie said with a smirk, 'yeah, you're right. The DCI's not gonna be too impressed if your daughter's gone and blown our investigation.'
Incredulous, Sam glanced across the desk to Ken as Debbie swept out of CID. He wisely ducked his head then rustled around in his pockets.
'Coffee, Sarge?' he queried.
It was clear he was eager to get away and she could hardly blame him – most people wouldn't want to be anywhere near her with the mood she was in. There was only one exception to that rule, she realised, though she couldn't picture herself talking to Sheelagh about this. She wouldn't even know where to start. So, instead of dwelling on that, she waited for her coffee and tried Abi's mobile again – to no avail.
Then the floor creaked behind her. Logic should've told her that it was Ken returning with her coffee, but she knew it wasn't him. However, the figure that did come into view and perched on the edge of her desk was holding a coffee and a bar of chocolate. That meant one thing.
'Ken hiding, is he?' Sam asked.
'Just a bit,' Sheelagh answered with a worried smile. 'He told me about Abigail.'
Sam straightened her spine. All at once, she didn't like the fact that Sheelagh was hovering over her; it put her at a distinct disadvantage and she felt like she needed to be the one in control at the moment. Sliding her chair back a touch, she at least managed to put a bit of distance between them. She knew Sheelagh spotted it from the way her tongue flicked across her lips. Sam had seen that numerous times before; it was Sheelagh's way of acclimatising herself to whatever mood Sam was in. Right now, that intimate knowledge almost made things worse.
'I can't get hold of her,' Sam said eventually. 'But I will.'
'How much trouble is this lad?' Sheelagh questioned.
She shrugged. 'Depends why she's with him.'
Sheelagh tilted her head to the side. 'What do you mean?'
'Nothing,' she lied.
'What aren't you telling me?' persisted Sheelagh. 'Is there something else going on?'
Sighing, Sam rubbed her forehead. 'Me and Abi aren't exactly getting on at the moment. There are things – things she disapproves of about me. No surprise there.'
'Disapproves of?' Sheelagh repeated.
The anxious lilt in her voice forced Sam's gaze back towards her. All the questions she'd managed to successfully suppress in the last couple of days about Sheelagh's awareness and intentions came back full force in those two words. If she was reading this in terms of that unlikely scenario number three then she realised how it might sound to Sheelagh – she might think that Abi disapproved of how she felt about her. It was about as far from the mark as she could get, of course, but it was a perfectly plausible assumption under the circumstances. She could hardly explain her difficulties with Abi here and now; this was hardly the place and they definitely weren't ready for that kind of conversation. Realistically, she didn't know if they ever would be. She needed time to think, time to absorb all this new information that people kept flinging at her. That said, she'd concede that she'd been doing her damndest not to think about it. The reasons for that were something else she had to consider – at some point. In the meantime, she needed a way out of this that didn't pile problem on top of problem.
'You know what me and Abi are like,' she said finally. 'There's always something.'
Sheelagh was too shrewd to accept it. 'But specifically?'
Reluctantly, Sam met her eye. 'I'm in the wrong. I always am, remember? You'd be on her side, I promise you that.'
That provoked another splash of intrigue on Sheelagh's face but then she glanced around, as if recognising where they were, and simply held out the coffee with a warm smile. Taking it, Sam felt their fingers brush and she couldn't stop the little exhalation of need. Whether Sheelagh spotted it was up for debate, but she did hesitate a moment before proffering the chocolate bar.
'You know where I am,' she said as she passed it over.
'Where you always are,' Sam replied. 'Thanks.'
Sheelagh just nodded and discreetly slipped out of CID without another word to anyone else. Sam couldn't help but swivel to watch her go, the plastic coffee cup burning her fingers, and then she let out a long breath and stared at the phone again. If Abi hadn't answered yet, it meant she was unlikely to. She was surgically attached to that mobile so, really, this was pure avoidance and that was concerning.
At least when Jack arrived to talk to her, she felt a little less like a convicted criminal than Debbie had endeavoured to make her feel earlier. Sitting on the edge of her desk, Sam crossed her arms and tried to respond calmly to his questions when she might've bitten Debbie's head off. Perhaps a conversation with Sheelagh had dulled her fury somewhat. They usually had that effect.
'I didn't even know Abi had a boyfriend,' she admitted. 'Let alone a low-life like him.'
'Well, maybe Craig isn't her boyfriend,' Jack said.
'Whatever he is,' Sam said, 'she saw us at his house. I need to make sure she hasn't said anything,' she added, pushing off from her desk and walking past them.
'The chances are,' Debbie put in unhelpfully, 'that Craig is in this up to his neck so you can't go telling Abi what we're up to.'
She halted and turned back. 'I'm not going to tell her anything she doesn't need to know,' she answered then switched her focus to Jack. 'Guv, Abi's problem is with me. I won't let it affect the case.'
Holding her gaze for a moment, he returned, 'Yeah, tread carefully.'
There was trust in that look and she briefly hoped that it wasn't misplaced. Of course, she wasn't going to do anything that might jeopardise the investigation, but she was also acutely aware that she couldn't control Abi. It wasn't just a case of not telling her anything sensitive; she needed to beware of telling her anything that might ignite any sort of reaction. She knew her daughter's temperament and she knew that Jack's words about treading carefully were more prescient than he realised.
When she arrived at the house, she could hear music blaring from the instant she stepped out of the car. On the one hand, she was relieved because it at least told her where Abi was but, on the other, she wasn't quite sure she wanted to know what was going on inside. Nevertheless, she picked up speed, unlocked the door and went in, finding Abi with a topless Craig Olson on the sofa, both of them completely oblivious to her presence thanks to the music thudding away in the corner.
For a moment she stood completely still then snatched up the remote and turned the stereo off. Immediately, the pair of them leapt off the sofa, although Abi didn't look exactly as sorry as Craig was professing to be while he scrambled to make himself decent. Looking at the scene, Sam felt like throwing in the towel again. The look on Abi's face was dangerously reminiscent of her satisfaction at her liaison with Matt Boyden and it was sickening to think they were right back there.
'I'm s-sorry,' Craig said, breaking the silence.
'Just get out,' Sam told him.
'He doesn't have to,' Abi said.
'Just go,' Sam reiterated firmly.
Craig took one look at Abi, squeezed her hand, then fled. Sam took a little vicious delight in blocking his path for a bit before finally letting him past. A few seconds later the front door closed and she was alone with her daughter who, instead of uttering a word of apology, was busy touching up her lipstick in the mirror.
Sam watched her incredulously. If it was Sheelagh dealing with this situation then she'd know what to do, she'd be able to say something that'd get through to Abi. But Sam, while she could crack serial rapists in interview and catch serial killers, couldn't work out a way past this for them. So, instead of dealing with the bigger picture, she took refuge in the case.
'Did he see me outside his house this morning?' she questioned.
'No,' Abi said after an excruciating pause, turning back and crossing her arms.
One fear allayed, Sam felt more able to ask, 'What the hell are you doing with someone like him? Do you know what sort of family he comes from?'
Abi just stared her out. 'Of course I do.'
'And you're still involved with him?' she queried.
'With him,' Abi answered. 'Not his dad, not his brother, Craig isn't like them.'
Sam rolled her eyes. 'What do you know about his family? You must've been with him five minutes.'
'Wrong,' said Abi, stepping towards her, 'we've been seeing each other for weeks. Not that you've been around to notice. And, believe me, that wouldn't have been the first time on the sofa.'
'Oh, I do believe you,' she said, unable to rein in her disgust, 'and how proud of you I am.'
'At least I've got the guts to go for what I want,' Abi retorted.
'You're sixteen,' she snapped. 'You've got no idea what you want.'
Abi snorted. 'That's rich coming from you. You're pathetic. Is it any wonder I don't wanna be anything like you?'
'You're just doing this to spite me then,' Sam said. 'What did you do? Go out and pick the most unsuitable lad possible? Hmm? How much research did you do or don't I wanna ask?'
'How much research did you do before deciding you wanted to screw Sheelagh?' Abi shot back. 'Or is that still something you're not quite sure about, Mum? Not got the bottle, have you?'
Sam glared at her. 'Do not talk about Sheelagh like that.'
'Sweet,' Abi said with a sneer. 'So protective, so loving but you won't do anything about it. Covers how much of a coward you are really, doesn't it?'
Anger was burning in her chest, so fiercely that she couldn't control it. 'Have you stopped to think why I don't wanna bring Sheelagh into our lives? I'm ashamed of us. I'm ashamed of you!'
She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. They weren't true, they really weren't. Turning away, she was intent on gathering her thoughts and working out an apology when Abi yanked her back by the shoulder and slapped her across the face – hard. It might not have been the first time she'd turned violent with her, but the intensity of the slap startled as well as stung.
'Abi!' she yelled as her daughter grabbed her bag and made for the door. 'Where are you going? You can't tell Craig I'm a police officer,' she added desperately.
Spinning around on the doorstep, Abi growled, 'You are unbelievable.'
Leaving the front door flung open, she disappeared off down the street and Sam clutched her cheek, leaning back against the wall for a bit of stability. For a minute or so she couldn't quite believe she was stood in her own living room while her daughter was off roaming around with a criminal lowlife and the woman she loved was – was trying to... What the hell was Sheelagh doing? That concern suddenly reignited, along with the flame of guilt that reminded her just how much she'd hurt Abi over the years.
Her phone jangling jolted her from her thoughts. It was Debbie and, though she rejected the call, it reminded her she needed to pull herself together and focus back on the case. Since Abi was so obviously intimately involved with Craig Olson, she could be in danger the longer this went on. Her impetuous daughter could, like her, get into trouble in an empty room so this situation was downright dangerous.
After locking up, she drove back to the nick. It only occurred to her when she was walking into the front office that she hadn't looked in a mirror since Abi's little slap and she didn't know if there were any indications of it left on her face. That was enough to divert her towards the bathroom and she was glad she did – her left cheek was noticeably red, extra bright splotches around where the palm had struck.
Twisting her head to the side, she took a long look at the damage Abi had done. It wasn't so much how it stung or how it looked; it was what it symbolised. She knew exactly why Abi was behaving the way she was and it had nothing to do with some overwhelming affection for Craig Olson. It wasn't even a desire to get back at her by finding the most inappropriate boy available. It wasn't that calculated. No, if Sam had to put money on it, she'd bet that, bizarrely enough, Abi had taken up with Craig Olson for the same reason that she'd started that fling with Peter Cavanaugh – it was a distancing technique, a distraction. The situation they were both trying to avoid was the same – Sam's love for Sheelagh. In Abi's case, she was trying to ignore the pain that Sam's unilateral decision to avoid dealing with her feelings had caused. So, yes, it was completely down to her being a bad mother and a generally rubbish human being again. Wasn't it always?
'Sam?'
She squeezed her eyelids shut. Just at a moment where seeing Sheelagh might break what little strength she had left, she appeared beside her in the bathroom like she had so often before. They'd spoken the other night about the first time it had happened – during Joanna's disappearance – and she felt as unsettled now as she had then. She only opened her eyes when Sheelagh's fingers tilted her chin before resting on her swollen cheek. There was anger blazing in her beautiful blue eyes and Sam couldn't help but hold her gaze, drinking in the love for a few moments.
'What happened?' Sheelagh questioned.
Sam inclined her face out of reach. 'I'm fine.'
'That wasn't what I asked,' pointed out Sheelagh with a bite in her voice.
It was protectiveness, it was care, and it almost brought her emotions out in a flood. What she'd said to Eva about wanting Sheelagh to look after her felt more relevant than ever but if she opened up now then it'd be a fine mess. It'd be opening a can of worms simply for the sake of it. So she busied herself with splashing some cool water on her cheek then moved to get a paper towel. Sheelagh beat her to it, tugging one loose and handing it over with a stern look.
'Tell me what happened,' she insisted.
Sighing, Sam replied, 'We just got a little heated, that's all.'
'Abigail?' Sheelagh stared at her incredulously. 'Abigail did this to you? I thought you'd had a run-in with a suspect. I can't believe she hit you.'
'It was just a slap,' Sam said. 'Trust me, I asked for it.'
'Why would you say that?' asked Sheelagh. 'What's going on between you?'
'It doesn't matter,' she said. Focusing on her reflection, she grimaced at the visible red streaks. 'Could you slap the other one? Then I'll match.'
Sheelagh rolled her eyes. 'Funnily enough, no, I'm not gonna hit you.'
'I bet I could give you good reason,' she answered. Her voice had taken on a dangerous tone, as if she was deliberately flirting with flicking the can of worms open all over the place. 'I mean –'
'You couldn't, you know,' Sheelagh interrupted. She ran her thumb over the red marks again then continued, 'I'll be right back. Don't run away,' she added. 'I'm not joking.'
'I know you're not,' Sam muttered. 'I'll be here.'
Left alone, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Somehow, she knew that it was important to Sheelagh that she stayed put, even if she didn't know why. The sensible thing to do – considering what she and Abi had been arguing about – was actually to do a runner but she wouldn't hurt Sheelagh like that. She couldn't push her away again because she knew how much it had hurt her before. No, if her penance for the row with Abi was more close contact with Sheelagh then she could certainly see the irony in that and, besides, it was nice to experience how much she cared.
When she returned, Sheelagh seemed a little surprised that she hadn't done a disappearing act. Yet she briskly cleared her face and handed over her concealer with a smile. Sam looked back to the mirror and covered up the marks easily enough. Before she turned back, though, she caught sight of the way Sheelagh was looking at her in the glass and it sent a shiver along her spine. If she didn't know better, she'd say that it was desire, plain and simple.
Clearing her throat, Sam handed the concealer back. 'Thanks.'
'Why did Abi hit you?' Sheelagh asked simply. 'I need to know.'
Sam inhaled deeply. 'Okay, okay, I... I've made a choice that she isn't happy with and she's punishing me for it.'
'What choice?' pressed Sheelagh.
'It's...nothing,' she replied.
When she saw another question about to spring, she reached a hand across to Sheelagh's shoulder. The fact that it silenced her was the strongest indication yet that her hunch about the way she was looking at her was spot on. After all, it usually just took one touch from Sheelagh for her own arguments to slip from her grasp. It was almost satisfying to see it playing out on the other side of the board for a change. Then she remembered what a mess they were currently in the middle of and let her hand drop.
'Listen, I've gotta tell Jack about Craig Olson,' she said. 'Abi's so angry at the moment, she could do anything. I need to neutralise it – if I can.'
Sheelagh nodded. 'You know where I am when you're ready to talk.'
'Yep,' she murmured.
As she passed, she yielded to her impulse to kiss Sheelagh's cheek. It was as well she couldn't afford the time to look back before she yanked the door open because she suspected that, if she did, she'd lose what little control she had over this situation.
Upstairs, she was forced to admit to Jack and Debbie what had happened with Abi, although she naturally left out the part about the slap. In her absence, Debbie had found that stolen phones were indeed being sold at Brian Olson's local pub and suggested they needed to move fast, conceding in her usual sarcastic tone that it might already be too late thanks to Abi.
'I gave her no details,' Sam said, 'and I doubt she'll tell him anything anyway. Well, then again, I'm hardly an authority on my daughter, am I?' she added with a wry chuckle, mainly to say it before either of them did.
'The sooner we bring them in, the safer Abi'll be,' Jack pointed out.
'Does that mean we can raid their house?' Debbie queried.
'Yeah,' he replied, 'I want this thing finished.'
Sam watched Debbie triumphantly stride out of CID then steeled herself and rose to follow.
Getting the Olsons was the right thing to do, of course, but she was petrified of Abi's involvement. It would be just like her daughter to throw caution to the wind and that didn't bode well for any of them. She could end up with a criminal record and if she decided to publicise her reasons for kicking off then... Yes, there was a selfish flavour to all this, but she was also scared what it might do to Sheelagh. Whatever was going on in her mind at the moment, this was far too much too soon.
At the raid, Sam was with the uniform troops in the van while Jack and Debbie were in the other car. Despite the fact she was stewing on the overarching situation, she still felt a slither of satisfaction when a blue van pulled up and Brian Olson began unloading what was obviously a load of stolen gear from the back with his eldest son. On Jack's orders, they held steady for a few minutes then burst into the house and arrested father and son.
Just as they were beginning to go through the boxes piled high in the living room, Craig rushed in with Abi hot on his heels. Thankfully, when she asked Jack for a minute with them, he obliged, far more readily than Debbie would've if the ball had been in her court.
'Craig,' Sam said carefully, 'can I explain something? I'm a police officer. Now, Abi didn't know that we were investigating your family and I didn't know she was involved with you.'
He scoffed. 'And you expect me to believe that?' Looking to Abi, he went on, 'You scheming little –'
'It's true,' Abi cut it desperately.
From the look on his face, he really didn't believe her, but he didn't have much time to argue before Jack came back to arrest him. Aghast, Abi stepped in front of her.
'Mum, are you gonna let them do this?' she demanded.
'It's just for questioning, Abi,' Sam answered. 'If he hasn't done anything then he'll be okay.'
'Yeah, he'll be okay but what about me? He's not gonna wanna see me anymore.'
Sam held her gaze. 'And that's a bad thing?'
'Yeah, it is,' Abi retorted, 'and bad things only ever happen when you're around.'
With that, she stormed out of the house and Sam exhaled. Although that had been bad, it could've been much worse and perhaps it might have the effect of distancing Abi from her dodgy boyfriend for good. As she coordinated the retrieval of all the stolen goods, Sam thought about that possibility.
Abi was so stubborn and so angry. The Matt Boyden situation, part of her zeal over discovering who her father was, warned that she didn't much like giving up and was willing to go to extreme lengths. What surprised Sam, when she stopped to think about it, was that Abi's focus had tilted like it had. She'd continued going after the secret of her father, at least until Sam had lied that she was the product of a one-night stand. That the damage had already been done by her passing Glenn's name to Matt was irrelevant – the lie had stopped Abi because she'd deemed it to be the truth. But Sam hadn't lied to her about Sheelagh. Back when they'd first discussed it, Abi had asked her not to and she'd acquiesced. Abi was in full possession of the facts, but she hadn't pushed against it; no, she'd jumped the other way. Sam was under no illusions that Abi wouldn't hesitate to hurt her if she thought it would help – or if she just needed to vent her anger – but, she realised with sudden clarity, she didn't want to hurt Sheelagh. Perhaps that was why she'd diverted her energies into Craig Olson. Of course, that meant that forcibly separating them could have repercussions beyond a fresh expression of Abi's anger, maybe things would shift in Abi's head if she saw what she thought was her mother deliberately scuppering her chances of a relationship when she was dexterously avoiding one herself. However, what choice did she have? Craig was part of a known criminal family. She could hardly turn a blind eye, even if such a thing was in her power right now.
After supervising the transfer of the evidence into the storeroom, she headed back up to CID, only to be caught by Jack on the landing. From his stance, she suspected he'd been waiting for her.
'I'm sorry about Abi,' she said as they walked into CID together.
'We got the Olsons,' he answered, 'no harm done.'
'Well, it won't stop her blaming me,' she returned.
'Craig says he nicked the stuff from his brother,' Jack said as she slumped gratefully down into her seat. 'We can check his story but, as far as I can see, there's no point taking it any further. Unless we do him for handling.'
Looking up, she queried, 'Is it worth it?'
Jack shrugged. 'His brother and his father are about to be locked up so maybe he's learned his lesson. The CPS'll take a view, but he's not directly implicated.'
Sighing, she massaged her forehead. It'd be good if Craig got out of this unscathed but what if he didn't learn his lesson? This was a lad with insider knowledge of aggravated theft and selling stolen goods – keeping him out on the streets could still put Abi in danger. Or, just maybe, it wouldn't work out like that. She didn't know what to do and it irked her.
'Are you okay?' Jack questioned.
'I don't know if being a single parent and this job go together,' she admitted. 'I'm not doing a very good job with Abi, I can't seem to manage it on my own.'
'From what I've seen, you don't have to do this on your own,' he answered. 'You've got support, Sam. You just need to accept it. You're trying to take too much onto your own shoulders, that's your trouble.'
'And I bet you never do that, do you, Guv?' she asked innocently.
He chuckled. 'All I'm saying is don't dismiss it out of hand. I don't know what you're waiting for but, let me tell you, it's no picnic getting to my age and going home with a ready meal and a bottle of Scotch. Family, that's what's important. And I'm not just talking about Abigail,' he added to drive the point home.
Clearing her throat, she said, 'Anyway, what do you want me to do about Craig?'
'I'll leave that up to you,' he replied with a knowing smile. 'You do what you think's best.'
As he walked off, she let out a soft snort. There was only one course of action as far as she could see, and she wasn't at all certain it was what was 'best'. Even so, she owed it to Abi to at least let her make her own mistake with Craig. Charging him for handling would be harsh and might ruin his shot at going straight now that his dodgy dad and brother were out of the picture. She wasn't in the business of screwing up lives for the sake of it and, really, if Abi wasn't involved in this case, she'd definitely be advocating leniency. Alongside the disgust and anger that had overwhelmed her at finding Craig groping her daughter, she could grudgingly admit that he'd been polite and genuinely embarrassed. He deserved a chance and, if it made Abi hate her slightly less at the moment, it might have beneficial side-effects.
Retrieving him from the cells, she took him to the interview room and sat him down. She couldn't help but let him stew for a few minutes while she took another look at his file, reassuring herself that she was doing the right thing.
'You're off the hook,' she said finally. As he grinned and stood up, she warned, 'Sit down. Your dad and your brother have bailed you out,' she continued when he reluctantly complied. 'They claim the stolen goods found in your room were from them.'
He crossed his arms. 'Yeah, they were.'
'Even so, receiving stolen goods isn't exactly legal,' she pointed out.
'You just said I was off the hook,' he replied.
'Yeah, that's right,' she answered. 'I said it. I've just done you one hell of a favour.'
'Oh, I get it,' he said with a snort. 'And, in return, I stay away from Abi, right?'
'No,' she said after a moment. 'She really likes you. And the only thing Abi is guilty of is having a mother that's a police officer. So, if you do end up running into each other's arms, you look after her. You involve her in anything vaguely dodgy,' she added, 'and you're looking at a family reunion behind bars. Got it?' He nodded and she flashed her sickliest smile. 'Good.'
While they went through the motions of getting him released, neither of them said a word. It was a truce of sorts and his intelligence at keeping quiet convinced her that she was doing the right thing. As she showed him along the corridor, they were met in the opposite direction by Abi and Debbie, the look on her daughter's face making Sam wince.
Abi rushed towards Craig. 'Are you okay?' she asked. 'I can't believe they brought you down here.'
'Well, it was necessary, Abi,' Sam said calmly. 'We didn't do it for the sake of it.'
'Are you sure about that?' she questioned. 'Because making me happy's an arrestable offence, isn't it? You just want everyone to be as miserable as you.'
'Leave it, Abi,' Craig said uneasily.
'I'm the one who's gotta live with it,' Abi retorted. 'This is just typical of you. I meet someone and you stick your nose in.'
'I was helping him, Abi,' she insisted, acutely aware that Jack had joined Debbie and they were watching off at the side. 'His family's in a lot of trouble.'
Abi rolled her eyes. 'Oh, spare me the Good Samaritan bit. I know you too well and the only person you ever look out for is you.'
'We can talk about it at home,' Sam said. 'I think we've all had enough for one day, don't you?'
'Talk about it?' Abi snorted then her attention was caught by something beyond Sam's shoulder. When she looked back, there was a fresh glint in her eye. 'Oh, we could always talk about it here, couldn't we? That'd be fun. Let's do that.'
Sam didn't need to turn around to know that Sheelagh was somewhere behind her, watching all this. It wasn't just the way Abi was now looking at her; it was something more fundamental, like the hairs on the back of her neck standing up or her skin prickling. Sheelagh was there, she was watching this train wreck and Sam's earlier calculations that Abi didn't want to hurt Sheelagh suddenly seemed idealistic. As she'd admitted to Jack and Debbie, she wasn't exactly an authority on her daughter, and she knew how much she'd hurt Abi over the course of this whole thing. Maybe she'd finally decided to pay her back for it, not minding that Sheelagh was in the crossfire. Maybe she thought it was the only way. A wiser woman might try and shut it down with an outright lie about the source of their disagreement, but Sam didn't know what that might spark and she could feel Sheelagh's gaze on her, as well as Jack and Debbie's. This was a powder-keg.
'I really don't think we should go into this now,' she said carefully.
'Keep hiding, that's right,' Abi muttered. 'That's all you do. Come to work, go home, ignore everything else. That's all there is to you and you think that the rest of us should be just as miserable. Grow a spine, Mum!'
'All right, that's it,' she growled.
Grabbing Abi by the arm, she led her along the corridor like a toddler, Craig trotting alongside them looking more than a bit bemused. Poor lad had thought he was the cause of trouble between them and he'd just worked out it was far more intricate than that. In fairness, her strained relationship with Abi probably made his family feel like the Waltons.
In the front office, Abi shook her off. 'You're so self-absorbed. You didn't even see, did you?'
'I didn't need to see,' she retorted. 'You think I didn't know?'
Perhaps Abi had been expecting her to say something else; perhaps she truly thought that she hadn't known exactly what was going on back there. Either way, her ire abruptly diminished as her brow furrowed.
'Why are you doing this to us?' she questioned softly. 'We could be happy.'
'I know,' she admitted then she blinked away her sudden tears. 'Look, when I get home, we can –'
'I don't want to talk,' Abi interrupted. 'It's not me you should be talking to. Just...stop hiding. Please.'
With that, she yanked Craig out of the door. Watching them go, Sam found a new appreciation for the boy as he wrapped an arm about Abi's shoulders and kissed her head. It probably wouldn't last – what did at that age? – but he'd look after her in the meantime. Given how screwed up everything else was, Abi needed that right now.
She'd given the staff behind the front desk a floor show but, thankfully, they wouldn't understand the detail of it. The fact that she was a terrible mother was common knowledge around here and, really, she'd rather have that doing the rounds again than the truth. So she shot them a saccharine smile then climbed the stairs back to CID. Slumping down at her desk, she felt more than a bit dazed, wondering what Sheelagh was thinking right now.
Essentially, she'd just received confirmation of what she must've suspected earlier – if they were on the same page about all of this, that is. For all her avoidance of that particular thought in the last few days, Sam was beginning to wonder if it was the only explanation and every muscle in her body tensed at the very idea.
The way Sheelagh had looked at her in the bathroom mirror earlier had been intimate. There was no other word for it. Sam had felt the spasm of longing in her own body as their eyes connected and, realistically, there was no other logical reason for that expression on Sheelagh's face. Yes, Sam had seen love in her face frequently, but this was something more than that. She knew that, for her part, she'd only started looking closely at Sheelagh's body after her little epiphany. Beforehand, it was as though her mind had been shielding her from such ideas. She couldn't acknowledge how gorgeous Sheelagh was because that would've set off a domino effect, probably leading straight to how entrancing she looked from behind as she walked down a corridor. Even in denial, Sam would've likely had to accept that wasn't a platonic thought.
But, no, her subconscious had shielded her from her physical attraction until her love for Sheelagh had cemented itself in her mind. Only then had she begun to examine the curves of Sheelagh's body and imagine what it'd be like to touch her breasts and slowly undress her. Those thoughts had flooded her mind since then; she hadn't been able to stem the tide. Was that what had happened to Sheelagh?
Sam was an analytical person by nature and the evidence was becoming overwhelming. If she looked at it in plain terms, as she would any other case, how could she really deny it?
Ever since Connor had been exonerated in relation to the bomb blast, something seemed different between them. Sheelagh was as physically affectionate as she'd been before, but it felt as though she was aware of it now, as if she recognised what the impulse to reach out was a symptom of. Then there was the honesty – the secrets between them had been multiplying until Sheelagh had scrambled that pattern with her honesty about Connor's sexuality. That meant something.
The other night Sheelagh had taken her for a meal. A date; it was a date. Sam had thought it before, and she was certain of it now. The way Sheelagh had behaved, her talk about everything that had happened since she got to Sun Hill being meant to be, the mention of religion, that kiss to the cheek... That kiss was the ultimate proof because of the way Sheelagh looked at her afterwards. It was almost a challenge, now Sam thought of it. It had been Sheelagh's way of letting her know that things were changing between them – or could change, at least. Of course it was.
Then Connor's little visit to the nick was another piece of evidence. She'd been tag-teamed, well and truly. What Connor had been doing was giving his blessing and removing himself as an obstacle. He'd been welcoming her into the family – he'd even invited her out for dinner with them! It was blindingly obvious; she just hadn't wanted to think about it.
Somehow, Sheelagh had worked out what there was between them. And, more astonishingly, she'd accepted it. Even in her wildest dreams, Sam hadn't dared to believe that was at all possible. That Sheelagh could love her and actually want her was incredible. It was one thing to accept that you might have feelings for someone, quite another to give in to them. Sam had believed Sheelagh wouldn't be able to contemplate what happened next, but she hadn't counted on Connor's little curveball. She suspected that he'd changed the landscape in the last week and now here they were, right in the middle of no man's land.
With a sigh, she rubbed her neck and tried to concentrate on the paperwork that had arisen from the Olson case. She was successful to the point that she had a decent file for submission to the CPS by the time most of her colleagues were sloping off home. Instead of joining them, she was inclined to stay out of Abi's way for as long as possible. She didn't know how to have the conversations they needed to, not while all this fresh information about Sheelagh's feelings and intentions was swirling around her mind.
'Oi,' a voice at her shoulder said suddenly, 'not planning on staying here all night, I hope.'
She dropped her pen and swivelled to face Gina. 'I was thinking about it.'
'Well, think again,' Gina retorted. 'There's a drink downstairs with your name on it. No arguments.'
The tone of voice didn't really leave room for one so she nodded and watched Gina out of CID. In truth, a drink was exactly what she needed right now and, maybe if she could order her thoughts properly, they could talk this out. Perhaps she'd know what was going on with Sheelagh or, at the very least, she could yell at her for that disastrous drinking session the night after the bombing that had probably helped Sheelagh along her road of discovery.
After packing up, she went down the back staircase and slipped through Gina's open door. She nudged it shut then reached for one of the two glasses of whisky on the desk.
'Hands off,' Gina warned.
'Excuse me?' Sam returned quizzically. 'You lured me down here on the promise of a drink.'
'And you'll get one but that's not yours,' said Gina. 'Sit down.'
More than a little confused, she followed the order, trying to discern from Gina's face what the hell was going on now. However, that question was answered pretty rapidly by a figure in jeans and t-shirt suddenly entering the room with a tall glass of what looked like orange juice, complete with a purple straw. It was topped off with a cocktail umbrella and Sam felt herself smiling as Sheelagh handed it over.
'Very pretty,' Sam said, 'but why do I feel short-changed?'
'Oh, shush,' Sheelagh replied, sitting down and picking up her whisky. 'Cheers.'
Sam risked a glance at Gina, perturbed by the indulgent expression on her face. Then she shrugged and caught the straw between her lips, startled by the taste that zipped up onto her tongue. Coughing, she shot Sheelagh a look.
'What the hell are you doing with vodka in the middle of a police station?' she asked. 'Are you running a racket out of your locker?'
'That's right,' Sheelagh answered with a smirk. 'I do the vodka, Honey does the umbrellas. We're making a killing, especially in CID.'
Sam reclined back into her seat. 'I bet.'
'You know,' Gina said after a moment, 'I'll probably regret asking this but why does PC Harman have cocktail umbrellas in her locker?'
'It's the umbrellas you're interested in?' Sam asked incredulously. 'Not the vodka?'
'Well, I know where the vodka came from,' Gina retorted. 'Now, Sheelagh, come on.'
Sheelagh threw Sam an amused glance before answering, 'It's typical Honey. She was ordering for a party one day and added a few extra zeros to her order, ended up with ten thousand instead of a hundred.'
'Ten thousand?' Sam repeated. 'You've gotta be kidding.'
'Nope,' said Sheelagh. 'Her flat's full of them apparently, says you never know when they'll come in useful though.'
Taking another sip of her vodka and orange, Sam suggested, 'She could use them like matchsticks, create a replica police station for the front office. It'd be a talking point.'
Sheelagh laughed aloud. 'Is that your first drink of the day, DS Nixon, or do I need to check your desk for miniatures?'
'I asked you where you got the vodka from first,' she pointed out.
'No comment,' Sheelagh said serenely.
'Right back at you,' Sam replied. 'Cheers.'
With that, she took another sip of her drink and felt every muscle in her body relax. As much as her brain told her that she shouldn't be nakedly staring like this, the shot of alcohol coupled with her little epiphany of the afternoon meant that her eyes were inexorably fixed on Sheelagh. She looked stunning tonight but, then, she always did. It was effortless, so it seemed, and Sam couldn't begin to fathom how she managed it. Right now, all she wanted to do was reach across and brush a stray hair from her eyes. Perhaps if Gina hadn't been sat there watching them, she might've succumbed to the urge, but that would've been a step too far right now anyway. One thing was for sure though – the way Sheelagh's neck reddened under her gaze was intoxicating. She was as involved in this flirtation as Sam was, and apparently enjoying it just as much.
'So have you heard about this wedding?' Gina questioned abruptly.
'Hmm?' With difficulty, Sam dragged her attention from Sheelagh's lips. 'What wedding?'
'June and Jim's,' explained Gina. 'They were trying to keep it quiet, do it on the cheap, but that idea's gone out of the window. They're having a big do next week, reckon they're inviting the whole nick. You'll come, won't you?'
Sam snickered. 'Weddings aren't really my thing.'
'Are you sure about that?' Sheelagh asked.
Glancing back to her, Sam shrugged at the challenge on her face. 'I'm not sure about anything.'
'I may be able to wangle some incentives,' Gina said cryptically. 'Watch this space.'
Sam raised an eyebrow at Sheelagh and earned a small smile in return. Neither of them spoke, though, and Gina soon took mercy on them and switched the subject to Kerry's proposed undercover operation with the Radford family. Sam rather enjoyed the normality of it, even if she ultimately became aware that Sheelagh had shifted position and their knees were touching. As soon as she realised that, all her attention was focused on that little area of her body.
'I don't think she's best pleased with me for vetoing it,' Gina added when she'd finished her little tirade against Kerry Young. 'Neither's Rob.'
It took a lot of effort for Sam to focus back on the topic. 'Well, Rob's got a one-track mind when it comes to the Radfords. It doesn't always help him think clearly. Then again, not much does,' she added wryly. 'You made the right call, Gina.'
Guzzling up the rest of her drink, she put the glass down on the table. Sheelagh mirrored her movement and exchanged an indecipherable look with Gina as all three of them stood.
Then she turned to Sam and asked, 'Can I walk you out?'
'Making sure I leave the building again?' Sam retorted, mainly to distract herself from the warm tingling in her chest.
'Someone has to,' Sheelagh said. 'Night, Gina.'
'Night, you two,' replied Gina.
Maybe it was the alcohol, the exhaustion or the fact that Sheelagh was openly flirting with her, but Sam felt as if she was gliding out of the station. She noted the fact that Sheelagh maintained physical distance until they were outside of the nick then she linked their arms together and Sam had to take a deep breath to steady herself. With the day she'd had, this was downright dangerous.
'How did you get hold of the vodka?' she asked in an attempt to ground herself in reality and not the wispy fantasy swirling around her head.
Sheelagh chuckled. 'Marilyn practically forced it on me. You know she gets a little...fuzzy when she drinks?'
'For some reason, that's bypassed me completely,' Sam retorted.
'Coming from the woman who suggested making a replica Sun Hill out of cocktail umbrellas, that's hardly surprising,' Sheelagh pointed out.
Sam couldn't help but laugh, automatically drawing Sheelagh closer and resting their shoulders together as they walked. 'So you got it from Marilyn.'
'I was the lucky one,' said Sheelagh. 'I happened to be walking past when she decided she shouldn't keep it.'
'And you decided to waste it on me,' Sam returned. 'I'm honoured.'
Tightening her grip on her arm, Sheelagh answered, 'So you should be. Anyway, you deserve it.'
'Oh, I doubt that,' she said softly.
She shot Sheelagh a look as they approached her car, desperate to know what was going on in her mind. Truthfully, she was wondering what Sheelagh expected of her now, whether she knew that she knew she knew. Getting tangled up in knots like that wasn't them, though; it was all meant to be easier than that and Sam decided to let go for once, let Sheelagh take this as far as she wanted to. She half-suspected that her defences were so battered by Abi's onslaught and the overwhelming flurry of revelations today that she'd yield completely, whatever happened. Then again, she was still cognizant enough to recognise the fresh problems that would throw up and she found herself inching away.
Sheelagh must've interpreted that the way only Sheelagh could. Swiftly, her attitude changed. She withdrew her arm and tucked her hands into her pockets, managing to look gorgeous and adorable in one quick movement. Sam could happily have kissed her there and then, but she restrained herself. She still had to think about all this, not to mention the fact she had Abi to deal with.
'Thanks for the drink,' she said.
'Drive safe,' Sheelagh replied. 'You've had a rough day.'
That was the closest they were going to get to a conversation about what had happened today, and she appreciated Sheelagh's delicacy more than ever. That she knew exactly what was going on between her and Abi now was guaranteed but she wouldn't push it. Just when Sam had thought she couldn't love her anymore, she was struck by this gentleness in the face of what could only be described as her monumental stubbornness. You'd have to be in love to put up with it.
'Night,' she said finally.
With one long look, Sheelagh smiled and drifted off towards her own car. Sam exhaled heavily, aware of how much less palatable the world felt without Sheelagh beside her. She didn't like the dreariness of it, or the way the warmth that had enveloped her in Gina's office had suddenly disappeared. She didn't feel tipsy anymore; she just felt empty.
As she drove home, she tried not to think too much. It had been one hell of a day and she didn't want to land back at the house at all confused. She needed to calm things down with Abi and she couldn't do that while her mind was racing.
She'd expected some sort of angry reception – or at least loud music blaring from upstairs – but it was all quiet inside. When she went into the kitchen, she was startled to find Abi sat at the kitchen table, looking as if she'd just got in. Or, Sam thought with a sinking feeling, as if she was going somewhere.
'Abi?' she asked carefully.
Her chin shot up, showing the creases on her forehead. 'Oh, hi.'
For some reason, Sam had been expecting the Abigail that had confronted her in the nick and, instead, she encountered her little girl. She dropped her keys on the table then sat down in the chair beside her, able to hear the water rattling in the pipes. That was a rare occurrence around here.
'How's Craig?' she questioned after a moment.
'Going to stay with an aunt until he works out what he's going to do,' Abi answered. 'He thinks we're mad, Mum. You do know that?'
'I had an idea,' she said. 'I'm sorry. For all of it, I'm sorry.' Then she hesitated, afraid to ask her next question. 'W-where are you going?'
'I'm not going anywhere,' Abi replied. Looking down at her jacket, she grimaced. 'I've been out, I just sat down.'
Sam's muscles unclenched. 'Out with Craig?' she queried gently.
'No, I went to see a... friend. I needed to talk,' she explained in a defensive tone.
'It's fine,' Sam said, holding up a hand. In truth, she was insanely intrigued about who Abi had been talking to and what about, but they'd pushed each other far enough today. She needed this ceasefire. 'I was just wondering why you were sat there in your coat, that's all.'
Meeting her gaze, Abi asked, 'She knows now, doesn't she?'
'Yeah,' Sam admitted. 'But I only really figured that out today myself so please don't ask me to tell you what it means.'
'It means she loves you,' Abi murmured. 'God help her.'
'Yep,' she agreed with a sigh. 'That thought had crossed my mind. Listen, Abi,' she went on, 'what I said earlier... I was lashing out. It's got nothing to do with you, the reason I haven't... You're right, you know you're right.'
'I'm always right,' added Abi.
'I'm not commenting on that without a lawyer present,' Sam retorted. She was gratified to see the smile that response raised on her daughter's face and tentatively patted her hand on the tabletop. 'I've had an idea. It's your birthday in a couple of weeks. We didn't do much for your sixteenth so how would you like a party? You can invite all your mates, we'll hire a room somewhere and I'll stay well out of the way. What do you say?'
All of a sudden, Abi looked hopeful again. 'Really?'
'Sure,' she answered. 'You deserve it.'
'Thanks, Mum,' she said softly.
She just nodded, wary of speaking and shattering the unexpected peace. It was fitting that today should end up like this, given how wacky it had been all told. At least it was ending quietly; that was one blessing.
Her journey into work the next day was marked by a concerted effort to avoid dangerous thoughts. She knew it was wrong even as she was doing it but she honestly didn't see how she was going to get any work done if all she could think of was that moment by the car last night when she really should've kissed Sheelagh and had done with it.
So she tried to submerge her regret beneath work as usual, which would've worked fine if she hadn't walked up the stairs and found Sheelagh just coming out of CID. There was nothing she could do to prevent herself careering straight into her and sending them both flying into the door jamb. Sam was acutely aware of all the places their bodies were touching and that she was practically burrowing into Sheelagh's shoulder. The alarming part was that she couldn't move; she was completely off-balance. It was down to Sheelagh to authoritatively grasp her around the waist and lever her away. Sam was certain that they were both as flushed as each other, although the flash of amusement on Sheelagh's face probably wasn't replicated on her own.
Despite the fact she was now standing up on her own two feet, she still couldn't seem to move of her own accord and when Sheelagh led her to the chairs outside Jack's office she felt like a naughty child, desperate to do a runner but physically held in place. That this massive impediment to her escape was the light pressure of Sheelagh's fingers against her palm was the ultimate humiliation.
'I was looking for you,' Sheelagh said as they sat down. 'I wanted to grab you before I go out on patrol.'
Sam was relieved on a professional level when Sheelagh withdrew her hand, but she immediately felt the loss. She wondered if she looked as unsettled as she felt but that feeling was quickly overtaken by intrigue when Sheelagh pulled an envelope out from her pocket.
'What's this?' Sam questioned as she took it.
'Gina's little incentive,' Sheelagh explained. 'To come to the wedding reception next week with me.'
That phrasing was interesting and Sam automatically began opening it, even as she heard herself saying, 'I would've thought you'd be the last person to want to go to June Ackland's wedding.'
'Perhaps it's time to let bygones be bygones,' replied Sheelagh with a shrug. 'You can't change the past. I won't forget what she did, but we have to work together and, to be honest, I could do with a night away.'
'A night away?' Sam repeated then, when Sheelagh nodded to the piece of paper, looked down and read it. 'Free rooms? How's Gina wangled that one?'
'This is strictly between us,' Sheelagh said. 'She doesn't want to be known as a fairy godmother.'
Sam tried unsuccessfully to suppress her snort. 'There's an image I'll never get rid of. Go on.'
'Well, Honey entered her in a competition to win a dream wedding,' Sheelagh said. When Sam burst out laughing, she shot her a warning look. 'Shush, behave.'
'Sorry, sorry, I'll shut up.' She squeezed her eyes shut briefly and steadied herself. 'Okay, carry on.'
Sheelagh pressed her lips together, probably to stem her own chuckles, then continued, 'She heard that June and Jim were getting married on the cheap and offered them the package. She thought it was more productive than throttling PC Harman.'
'I would've throttled her,' Sam replied.
'I think she's leaving it open as an option,' Sheelagh retorted. 'I'd leave it there as a permanent threat, might do some good. Anyway, the package comes with a few free rooms. Now, obviously, June and Jim get one but they're not having bridesmaids and Tony doesn't want to stay over as best man, so they gave them back to Gina to do what she wants with. She's taken one for her and Jonathan and offered us one each. I don't know what she's doing with the last one – selling it back to Honey for a profit probably.'
'That'd be like Gina,' said Sam, though her mind was quickly running through all that information and working out which way to jump on this.
Sheelagh had made a point of telling her Gina had given them a room each. That was significant on several levels, not least because it proved Sheelagh knew how skittish she could be. It was the usual degree of care channelled into the usual activity of keeping her calm, except with a twist about them being in the same hotel overnight. It wasn't as though they were actually spending the night together and Sam was overcome with a wave of disappointment at that realisation that was probably shining out of her face. Nevertheless, she battled it down and looked back at the hotel reservation in her hands.
It was a glorified party, that's all: a chance for a nice dress and a few drinks, perhaps a bit of dancing and some good food. That simplification made her mind up for her. After everything they'd been through in the last year, they deserved a good party and she couldn't deny that seeing Sheelagh enjoying herself was a primary motivation. She'd wear a dress, she'd be smiling, she'd be happy... Suddenly, Sam couldn't imagine not being there to see it.
'I'll come to the wedding with you,' she said, raising her eyes and meeting Sheelagh's. 'If you promise to go easy on me,' she added. 'I'm not one for polite small talk with people I see every day.'
A flicker of triumph crossed Sheelagh's face. 'Don't worry, I'll stick to you like glue.'
That thought rendered Sam immobile and she didn't even move when Sheelagh rose and practically disappeared into thin air. She just sat there, mouth dry, and tried to draw her mind away from the possibilities a wedding reception at a posh hotel conjured up. However she might've looked to her colleagues at the moment, she was pretty certain she wasn't coming across as a respected detective sergeant. Eventually, she managed to find her feet and wandered into CID to start her day.
It was a busy week on the work front and, for whatever reason, Sheelagh kept her distance. Sam was grateful. Every single time she caught sight of Sheelagh in the corridor she was completely derailed by her emotions. It was bad enough that she was having to make a deliberate effort not to do something stupid every time her mind wandered – and it was very prone to wandering these days. If it wasn't the fact that Sheelagh was now consciously flirting with her that she was struggling with then it was the prospect of where they went next that was puzzling her. The idea of what might happen at this wedding was a side dish that she tried not to touch for the week – with limited success.
The night before the big day she was sat on her bed staring at her entire wardrobe piled up beside her. She was startled by a creak in the doorway and twisted around to find Abi stood there in her pyjamas.
'Oh, hi, sweetheart,' she said. 'Everything okay?'
'You've been up here ages,' Abi replied. 'You were banging around then you went really quiet. I thought you might've jumped out of the window.'
'Don't tempt me,' she murmured.
Rolling her eyes, Abi came to sit next to her, shifting a pile of old skirts. 'You haven't actually told me where you're going tomorrow, you know.'
'It's a work do,' she answered with a wince. 'A wedding.'
'A wedding?' repeated Abi then her face lit up. 'Is Sheelagh gonna be there?'
The glee in her daughter's expression made her groan. 'Unfortunately, yes.'
'Is she staying over as well?' Abi pressed.
'Okay, could you help instead of laughing at me?' Sam retorted. Standing up, she gestured to the contents of her wardrobe. 'I have no idea what to wear.'
Abi smirked and began rifling through the pile closest to her. Although they'd barely spoken since the Craig Olson debacle, Sam had felt the truce settle nicely in the house. Of course, Abi still thought she was behaving like an idiot but maybe the compassion that had apparently struck her in the front office last week had lingered and she was willing to put up with her stupidity for a bit longer. At this point, Sam would take all the help she could get.
'This one,' Abi said finally, holding up a simple black dress with a halter neck. 'The last time you wore this was at Aunty Caroline's birthday party, remember? Their neighbour kept following you around like a puppy-dog all night.'
'That was because he misheard Caroline,' she replied. 'He thought I was wanted by the police. He was arrested for kerb-crawling a month later.'
Snorting, Abi said, 'He still fancied you in it. Wear that one. And get some sleep,' she added as she made for the door. 'You look terrible with bags under your eyes.'
On reflection, she decided that her teenage daughter probably knew what she was talking about. Not only did she pick the black dress, but she also dumped everything else unceremoniously back into the wardrobe and at least attempted to get an early night. It didn't quite work out like that, of course. Every time she closed her eyes she kept thinking about tomorrow and the craving she had to see Sheelagh in a low-cut dress flirting with her over the buffet. It was juvenile, yes, but it didn't make the fantasy any less potent.
Her dreams, when she finally dropped off, were pretty intense. Since she'd acknowledged her feelings last year, they'd been growing in detail but this was ridiculous. She awoke expecting to find Sheelagh nestled into her side but there was just empty space and she sighed loudly before managing to rouse herself into starting her day.
She was working until two and planning to change when she got to the hotel. June and Jim were marrying in a private ceremony then joining them all for the party. Sam just hoped nothing major was going to crop up in the meantime because she suspected that if she didn't get to this wedding, she'd lose her temper once and for all. She wanted – no, she needed – to spend the evening with Sheelagh. In hindsight, she'd just prefer it if half of Sun Hill wasn't coming along for the ride. Then again, they might act as a good leveller. Whatever she wanted out of tonight, it couldn't happen – for Sheelagh's sake as much as hers.
Settled in CID, she concentrated on her paperwork and tried to ignore the thoughts scratching at the back of her mind. When Reg came upstairs to pass a case on to Rob, her innate nosiness took over and she leaned back in her chair to listen. However, she found her attention more on Rob than the creepy shopkeeper Reg was reporting on and, once the constable had disappeared, she looked at her old friend critically.
'I meant to say I'm sorry you were taken off the Radford job,' she said. 'I know how much that meant to you.'
'Yeah, well, I think the Super got it wrong,' he answered. 'If he and Inspector Gold had gone with my idea, we'd be in there. Kerry was close.'
'But you know how dangerous the Radfords are,' she argued after a moment of watching his anger swell. 'Kerry's better off out of it.'
He nodded, although she could see his disbelief bubbling under the surface. Getting the Radfords meant so much to him, of course it did, and to come this close only to be snatched away from the kill was cruel. The fact that it was the right call by Gina and the Super wouldn't make him feel any better until they'd nailed the whole family.
There was something of a mass exodus from the nick around two o'clock. Sam floated downstairs but found herself turning back into the station rather than out of the front door. With no discernible purpose, she wandered down the corridor and nearly collided with Gina just coming out of her office.
'What are you still doing here?' Gina questioned. 'I'm just about to get changed and get gone. If I can prise Jonathan away from his desk.'
Sam tilted her head to the side. 'Shouldn't that be the other way round?'
'Never mind me,' said Gina briskly, 'what are you hanging around for?'
'I was just...' She trailed off as she caught sight of Sheelagh coming along the corridor. 'I'm just going,' she continued with difficulty.
Gina had recognised her tone and glanced over her shoulder. Although Sam knew she was caught, she couldn't help but try and salvage her pride by turning and walking away as if she hadn't noticed Sheelagh. Of course, it wasn't like Sheelagh to let her go that easily and she found a hand on her shoulder.
'Everything okay?' Sam asked lightly.
Sheelagh was smothering her amusement – badly. 'Just to say, I'll be a little late. I've got a report to finish before I leave.'
'So much for sticking to me like glue,' Sam replied. 'You never know, I might be gone by the time you get there.'
'Not if you know what's good for you,' Sheelagh warned, jabbing a finger into her arm.
'Oh, I do,' Sam murmured then she dragged herself back a few steps. 'See you later.'
Unless she was completely mistaken, Sheelagh was chuckling as she walked away but she didn't much mind. If there was one person in the world who understood her complete immobility when it came to normal human interaction, it was Sheelagh. She would've understood better than Sam herself did that she'd been checking on their plans just then and she would've accepted it as just part of what she had to deal with. You'd have to be a saint to put up with it and, fortunately, Sheelagh must've been completely batty along with it. That was the only explanation.
The hotel was gorgeous.
Sam parked up then walked around the front and looked at the grounds stretching as far as the eye could see. The driveway looked positively majestic and the building itself must've been listed. Standing on the stone steps, she acknowledged that it was a beautiful spot for a wedding then let out a soft snort at the thought that naturally gave rise to. Considering that she hadn't a clue how to even broach the subject of romance – or whether the whole thing was just a terrible idea for both of them – it was a bit early to be going down that road. Besides, it wasn't even legal. That dimmed her spirits somewhat, but she tried to bury her abrupt irritation beneath the anxiety she was beginning to feel about the night ahead.
After checking in and getting changed, she surveyed herself in the mirror. Abi was right – she didn't look half bad in this dress, though she hadn't been this concerned about how she looked for quite some time. She'd tried her hair up then down before putting it up again and throwing the brush across the room to talk herself out of messing with it again. It was only after standing looking at herself in the glass for ten minutes biting her lip that she managed to persuade herself to leave the room and join the rest of the party downstairs on the veranda to wait for the happy couple.
Sheelagh hadn't arrived yet as far as she could see but there was a good Sun Hill contingent already prowling the grounds including Jack, Manson, Phil, Gina, Jonathan, Smithy and Lance. She noted with interest the dashing man stood beside Lance and assumed that was the Mark Rollins Sheelagh had mentioned. They seemed happy together, she realised, and that again gave her pause. Would she ever be comfortable having a relationship with Sheelagh that was known to all and sundry? Then she scoffed aloud. She was already in that kind of relationship; they just hadn't done anything to warrant the gossip yet. They might as well be doing something to deserve the looks the likes of Honey and Marilyn would throw at them.
She was snapped out of her thoughts by seeing a horse and carriage approaching along the drive. Calling out to the others, she hurried down the steps and threw confetti along with the rest of them. June looked great, Jim looked pleased as punch; it was just the way it should be. He helped his new wife out of the carriage and they walked up the stairs amidst the congratulations. Sam hung back a little, seeing their happiness but not really wanting to be an active part of it. The entire group went into the hotel and she lingered on the steps gazing abstractedly up at the doors. Then a figure stepped out of them, obviously looking for her, and Sam's breath caught.
Sheelagh looked incredible, absolutely incredible. She was wearing a light blue dress that tapered off just below her knees and showed off her gorgeous legs. The shoes were a perfect match for the dress and the necklace draped around her neck looked to be a blue topaz from this distance. Sam knew without closer inspection that the entire ensemble matched her eyes and couldn't tear her gaze away as Sheelagh spotted her standing there and broke out into a smile.
By some miracle, Sam got her feet moving and walked up the stairs to greet her. Sheelagh stretched out to take her hand and Sam felt like a schoolgirl all over again.
'You look beautiful,' she murmured.
Sheelagh's cheeks coloured. 'You don't scrub up too badly yourself, you know.'
To distract herself from the warmth those words sent scuttling through her body, Sam looked down at their joined hands and found something to focus on. She raised Sheelagh's arm and toyed with the teddy bear charm on the bracelet.
'I haven't seen this for a while,' she said.
'No,' Sheelagh returned, 'I couldn't wear it for a long time. It reminded me too much but then I... Well, I remembered the day you gave it to me. How happy the four of us were. It's a good memory.'
'It is,' Sam said quietly.
Turning the charm over, she swallowed at the second date that had been added since the last time she'd seen this item of jewellery. Sheelagh's fingers latched onto her own and Sam raised her eyes again. It felt selfish to be enjoying a glorious afternoon like this when Niamh's life had been cruelly cut short, but she saw Sheelagh's understanding in her face. They were in this together; they always had been.
'It's speeches, buffet, dancing from what I can gather,' Sheelagh said finally. 'You don't want to miss it.'
Sam managed a true smile, magnified by the pressure of Sheelagh's fingers against her own. 'Definitely not.'
Unless she was completely crazy, Sheelagh's eyes slid down the entirety of her body before she turned to lead the way back indoors. This time it was Sam's turn to stifle her amusement, the timely reminder that Sheelagh was physically attracted to her doing wonders for her ability to deal with this strange situation. Sheelagh clung onto her hand as they went into the lobby and Sam didn't want to let go. However, on seeing the swarm of their colleagues, she realised she had to. She shot Sheelagh what she hoped was a meaningful look before relinquishing her hand.
'I need a drink,' she announced. Spotting a waiter walking around with a tray, she darted over and retrieved a couple of glasses of bubbly. She passed one to Sheelagh and added, 'Cheers.'
'Cheers,' Sheelagh repeated, holding her gaze and making her drink tremble in her hand.
They were drawn apart by the natural migration of the crowd across towards the man holding the drinks and, really, it was a good idea to put a bit of distance between them. Nevertheless, Sam couldn't tear her eyes away from Sheelagh. She looked radiant, chatting to her colleagues and making small talk while Sam nakedly stared. Yes, she moved with the crowd when they were asked to find their seats, but she was only half-aware of what she was doing. It was a bit of a shock to find herself swept away from Sheelagh and, not daring to risk looking like a complete idiot, she took the nearest available seat, which just happened to be between Jack and Smithy. It wasn't exactly where she'd hoped to end up.
Harnessing her famous self-restraint, she didn't look around for Sheelagh, focusing instead on Jim as he said a few words then listening to Tony's speech. It was a nice, droll one about running June over and her losing her appendix but gaining a husband. Sam groaned along with the rest of them but, actually, she saw the hand of fate in all of that better than most. Wasn't her entire relationship with Sheelagh based on things happening because they were meant to? Sheelagh had articulated that when they had dinner the other week and Sam believed it all the more in that moment. She almost laughed aloud when Tony's next words echoed around the room.
'I think most of us can see that if ever there was a couple that was meant to be together, it's them,' he said with a fond smile towards his two friends.
This time, Sam couldn't help but glance around the room. It must've been instinct that led her gaze because her eyes latched on to Sheelagh's instantly. She was stood over by the doorway, resting her shoulder against the wall and cradling her glass of champagne. From the look on her face, Sam suspected she'd been watching her the entire time and the thought tickled her spine. Tentatively, she smiled and Sheelagh smiled back.
'So,' Tony concluded jovially, drawing her attention back to the top table, 'that's the boring part done with. Go enjoy the spread.'
That raised a cheer and everyone took the order literally. The exodus towards the buffet table stole Sheelagh from her sight again but Sam deliberately hung back. Trapped in a room of her colleagues, she felt like a goldfish in a bowl all of a sudden. This whole thing was a terrible idea. Agreeing to the abstract idea of the wedding was one thing. That fantasy had sustained her in the last week, terrifying and tantalising in equal measure. But this... This was the reality and it was one giant leap into the unknown.
Her stomach was twisting in knots. Burying her need for food underneath her desire for another drink, she went in the opposite direction to everyone else and nabbed another glass from the waiter. Then she settled with her elbows on the bar until a voice at her shoulder startled her.
'You look like you're hiding, Sarge,' he said.
She turned around and chuckled. 'Please, Tony, we're about as far out of the nick as you can get.'
'Okay, Sam,' he answered, 'it looks to a seasoned copper like myself that you're hiding.'
'In plain sight?' she suggested, gesturing to the expansive function room.
'Best place, in my experience,' he said. Sipping his champagne, he added, 'Never did get on with this stuff but it's free.'
'I should probably slow down,' she returned. 'If I carry on at this rate, I'll be under the table by six o'clock.'
'Lucky I know someone who'd look after you,' he replied.
She grimaced. 'Maybe that's half the problem.'
With a snort, he said, 'I've known glaciers move faster than you two. Get a move on before I drop dead of old age.'
'How did you know, Tone?' she asked after a moment of deliberation. 'Everyone seems to but –'
'You put her back together again,' he interrupted. 'A lot of people care about Sheelagh, but you were the only one she let care, if you know what I mean.'
'I do,' she said softly. Then she admitted, 'I don't know if this is the right thing – for either of us. We haven't talked. I don't know how she feels, not really.'
'But she does,' he pointed out simply. 'Trust her.'
Stood there, engaged in this frankly bizarre conversation with a PC she didn't much know, she was searching for something to say that might put them back on comfortable ground. Before she managed that, though, she caught sight of a ruckus out of the corner of her eye.
'Tony...' she murmured.
It was Marie, Jim's ex-wife, being led out of the ballroom by the man himself with June on his heels. They seemed to be involved in quite the row and Sam quickly followed Tony as he went to help.
'I'm glad you decided not to wear white, love,' Marie was saying to June as they arrived.
'Now that's enough,' Jim warned.
'Marie, why don't you come with me?' Tony suggested. 'Get some coffee, yeah?'
Although she was manhandled away, Marie obviously didn't intend going quietly. 'I'm not going anywhere,' she screeched. 'I haven't caught the bouquet yet.'
'Are you all right, June?' Sam asked carefully.
'Oh, yeah, marvellous,' she muttered, obviously trying to mask her pain. 'How did she find out about today?'
Jim winced. 'I have no idea and I'm so sorry, June.'
'Well, she's right about one thing,' Sam said. When they both looked at her, she explained, 'You haven't thrown the bouquet yet. And that's the only reason Honey's turned up.' She slotted an arm around June's shoulders and nudged her towards the rear veranda. 'Come on.'
Outside, a glimpse of blue immediately told her where Sheelagh was and she supposed that seeing her comforting the bride was a bit baffling. With one final reassuring look at June, she walked down the stone steps and collared Honey standing with Smithy.
'You're up,' she said. 'June's about to throw the bouquet.'
However much champagne Honey had drunk already, it'd obviously gone straight to her head. She squealed and dragged a bemused Smithy off to round up the rest of the Sun Hill crowd. Sam stood off to the side, eager to keep some distance between her and Sheelagh – for now, at least.
Honey got everyone assembled at record speed. From the quirk of Gina's eyebrows as she migrated to the back of the group, she was having the same thoughts as Sam was about ways to galvanise the young constable into actual work in the future.
With the entire group between her and Sheelagh, she felt able to relax and cheer as June turned and threw the bouquet. For all her efforts, Honey didn't catch it, but Mark did. Everyone cooed as he turned to hug Lance and Sam watched it all with a strange churning in her stomach. It was one thing to be happy for them out here in the country, but would that last back at the nick? At least the two of them didn't have to work together every day, just on the occasions when S019 were deployed to Sun Hill. Admittedly, that might bring them into more regular contact than was exactly comfortable, given the active criminal fraternities in Canley.
As the crowd began to break up again, Sam shadowed a couple of constables up to one of the tables and took a seat. She was joined a minute later by Phil when he stopped by with a smirk on his face.
'Didn't catch the bouquet then,' he said.
'You look like a gangster,' she retorted. 'That the effect you were going for?'
He grinned but said nothing and carried on back inside. She just stared out across the lawn then nearly jumped out of her skin when a plate of food materialised in front of her. It was followed by Sheelagh sitting beside her, giving her a better view of her dress than she was entirely comfortable with. Licking her lips, she focused on the food.
'You hadn't eaten anything,' Sheelagh said. 'Champagne on an empty stomach's a bad idea.'
'Spying on me, PC Murphy?' she queried.
'Yes,' Sheelagh replied. 'It's better you just eat and be done with it.'
Acquiescing, she tucked in, not at all surprised by the fact that her plate was full of everything she liked and nothing she didn't. While she ate, Sheelagh seemed intent on the view, but Sam was under no illusions – their bare arms were pressed together on the tabletop and it was all either of them were thinking of.
'Thank you,' Sam said when she was done. 'That was gorgeous.'
Sheelagh opened her mouth to respond but then Reg appeared in front of them. If Phil looked like a gangster then he looked like a gigolo and both Sam and Sheelagh automatically put distance between each other. Sam inclined her body away under the guise of straightening her knife and fork while Sheelagh's arm moved from the table onto her lap.
'You two coming inside for the first dance?' Reg asked. 'It's a good one. June's choice – not Jim's. Then I'm the DJ for the rest of the night, you see.'
Sam exchanged a glance with Sheelagh then said, 'We'll be right there, Reg.'
After he trotted off, Sam let out a chuckle. 'This should be quite a night.'
'Come on,' Sheelagh said, squeezing her knee and sending her reeling, 'let's go.'
It took her a few moments to jolt herself into movement, but she finally managed to drag herself up and rounded the table. Sheelagh threw a look over her shoulder – warning her to follow – then continued into the ballroom. Sam wobbled on the spot at the sight of the dress swaying in the breeze but shook herself and slowly followed.
Something she realised as soon as they got inside, of course, was that this would be another exercise in torture. Yes, it might not raise any eyebrows if Lance and Mark danced, given their public relationship, but she wouldn't be able to dance with Sheelagh. Even if she could, she wouldn't. It'd set too many tongues wagging and she didn't want the gossip circulating back at the nick. It was another of the reasons why attending this wedding was a bad idea and she suddenly wanted to get very drunk again.
The first dance was 'True' and, as Jim led June out onto the floor, Sam felt a sharp pang. She watched them with a forced smile on her face, trying not to look at Sheelagh a few paces away, then Superintendent Okaro tapped her on the shoulder.
'Care to dance, Samantha?' he questioned.
Her eyes slipped back to Sheelagh watching her then she took his hand. 'Thanks.'
At least out on the floor, she felt as though she was doing what she ought to do at a wedding. Adam was a good dancer and, briefly, Sam wondered whether he'd danced a lot with Gina in the old days. That thought prompted her to search her out in the crowd and then she caught sight of Sheelagh dancing with Mark, which drove all other thoughts away. She seemed content, if not happy, and Sam attempted to focus back on her own partner.
'Couldn't your wife make it, Sir?' she asked.
'For some reason, she doesn't think police officers are riveting company,' he answered. 'Don't repeat that, for goodness sake.'
She smiled. 'Your secret's safe with me.'
They danced pleasantly for another minute or so then Tony hurried up beside her.
'You haven't seen Marie, have you?' he asked urgently. 'She's given me the slip.'
'No...' Sam murmured.
She turned around automatically to search the crowd, but she didn't need to look far. Marie had somehow slipped past an entire room of coppers, hopped up on the stage and grabbed the microphone.
'Doesn't it make you sick?' she bellowed. 'That was Jim and me once until she wrecked everything. We didn't stand a chance. She wasn't happy till I was locked up and my son was taken away from me.'
Sam winced and glanced over to where Sheelagh was standing to find an identical expression on her face. It took both Jim and Tony combined to hustle Marie out of the back door and June followed them outside, probably to try and calm the situation. It didn't quite work out that way. All of the guests craned their necks to see what was going on and saw Marie launch at Jim. He fell back and she launched herself down the stone staircase. It ended with both of them being carted off in an ambulance – quite an end to Jim's wedding day by all accounts.
June was insistent that everyone should stay and enjoy themselves. The Sun Hill rabble obviously wasn't going to say no to that, although some people like the Super decided to make a move. Sam thanked him sincerely for the dance before he disappeared, convinced that the rest of the night was going to be spent with her head buried in a glass with no partner in sight. Not for the first time, she wondered what the hell she was doing here.
She hadn't seen Sheelagh more than fleetingly since the first dance. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen Gina for a while either. Her fallback position for tonight had been to sit with Gina and Jonathan while drinking herself into oblivion but that wasn't happening. Sighing, she saw Rob alone on her way to the bar and offered to get him a drink. That he turned her down was another source of mystification, but she shrugged it off and went to get herself another glass anyway. While she was up at the bar a cheer went up from the ballroom and she glanced back to find Reg and Marilyn kissing on the dance floor. If anything, that made her mood blacker and she stayed at the bar for a long time, feeling the daylight outside dim rather than seeing it with her own eyes.
By the time she was on her fifth glass, she thought she was drunk enough to deal with the possibilities that seeing Sheelagh in that dress again would conjure up. She wandered back to the ballroom, finding the doors flung open onto a black sky beyond the sea of her colleagues still dancing. Sheelagh wasn't one of them though; she was sat off to the side staring into her drink in a way that made Sam's heart ache.
'You should ask her to dance,' Phil said, suddenly beside her.
Sam swallowed. 'I can't. But you could.'
'Thought you wouldn't want her dancing with a gangster,' he replied.
'Please, Phil,' she said softly. 'I'd like to see her enjoying herself. She looks...'
'Yeah, well, don't say I don't do nothing for you,' he answered as he set off.
It was hardly a hardship, Sam realised, as she watched him ask Sheelagh to dance and lead her onto the floor. She was easily the most beautiful woman in the room, positively entrancing under the lights with her dress swishing around gracefully. The song playing was 'Something' and Sam found her stomach clenching with jealousy as she saw the way the pair of them fit together so perfectly. It didn't help that the song summed up how she felt about Sheelagh and she was struck again by the realisation that all this was a high-stakes game she had no hope of winning. Because even if – even though – Sheelagh loved her, it'd never work out. How could it?
"Something in the way she knows,
And all I have to do is think of her,
Something in the things she shows me..."
No, that was all Sam could take. She dumped her drink onto the nearest table and headed for the door. The song followed her out into the night and she welcomed the sudden burst of early autumnal chill that assaulted her senses.
Nobody else was out here and she descended the stairs towards the lawn, minding her step but not really caring if she fell. The music carried behind her, although it took her a minute to place the next song as a Shania Twain one. Once she recognised it, she almost felt the alcohol drain from her body. She felt completely sober again and she hated it.
"From this moment, life has begun
From this moment, you are the one,
Right beside you is where I belong,
From this moment on..."
Was Sheelagh still dancing with Phil in there? That was the way it should be, after all. No matter what she thought she wanted, Sheelagh would still be happier in the long run with a man. Maybe it was just Connor's situation that had tricked her into thinking this was the right step for her. It wasn't. Sam had known that from the start and she'd been trying to protect Sheelagh. She'd been trying to protect them all. What a brilliant job she'd done of that.
"You're the reason I believe in love,
And you're the answer to my prayers from up above,
All we need is just the two of us..."
If only that were true... Sam let out a soft snort and rubbed her bare arms for warmth. It wasn't that cold out here, it just felt like she'd been doused in ice-cold water. What she really needed was to escape upstairs, but she didn't know how to get past the crowd and she got the feeling she probably looked terrible right now. The last thing she wanted was to be seen. As the song trailed off, she basked in the silence for a few moments then she heard a noise behind her and automatically stiffened.
Any words she might've found were washed away as the next song started up. It was 'Moonlight Serenade', Frank Sinatra unless she was very much mistaken, and the opening strains prickled at her skin. The hand that rested again her spine also took away her ability to form sentences and she found herself gently turned around.
Bathed in the light from the ballroom, Sheelagh's hair glistened, though her face was shrouded in shadows. One arm had somehow made its way around Sam's waist and the other had taken her hand. It took Sam a few moments to realise they were dancing and then her instinct was to fight it, averting her face and trying to step away. Unfortunately, Sheelagh didn't seem inclined to let her go.
'It's difficult to stick like glue to someone who's hiding from you,' she murmured.
Sam couldn't speak. She wanted to but she couldn't. On balance, the best thing she could do was to let Sheelagh have the dance and try to regroup. Perhaps sensing her yielding, Sheelagh's grip became more authoritative and their bodies pressed closer. Sam had no choice but to incline her head over Sheelagh's shoulder, barely resisting the urge to kiss the exposed skin along her neck. She thought she was doing rather a good job of dealing with the proximity problem – until a voice started singing along to the music in her ear.
"The stars are aglow,
And, tonight, how their light sets me dreaming,
My love, do you know, that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming?
I bring you and I sing you, a moonlight serenade..."
Sam bit down on her lip. Sheelagh had a wonderful voice, magnified by a million thanks to the fact it was tickling her earlobe. The sensible thing to do now would be to run but all she could do was inhale Sheelagh's perfume and let the music swirl in her mind.
"Let us stray till break of day in love's valley of dreams,
Just you and I, a summer sky, a heavenly breeze kissing the trees..."
Shivering, Sam pressed her cheek against Sheelagh's. It was soft and, she realised with a start, they fit together perfectly; far better than Sheelagh had with Phil earlier. Deftly, Sheelagh's left hand joined her right around her waist and Sam wrapped her free hand around her neck. There was barely a sliver of space between them now and Sheelagh was still singing softly.
"So don't let me wait,
Come to me, tenderly, in the June night,
I stand at your gate and I sing you a song in the moonlight,
A love song, my darling, a moonlight serenade..."
As the song concluded, Sam was assailed by a wave of molten panic. Here they were, dancing intimately on the lawn of a fancy hotel with half the nick inside ready to catch them any minute. Here she was, assuming that the way Sheelagh's body fitted against hers was anything more than a flashing neon sign to back the hell away. Her fingertips grazed Sheelagh's neck as she recognised that what she was more afraid of was drawing away and looking Sheelagh in the eye. She was absolutely petrified of what would happen if she did.
Sheelagh sensed her fear – of course she did. Instead of separating like any normal couple did after a dance, they just stayed there holding each other in the breeze. They'd been this close before, but this was different. This was the first time they'd both been on the same page and Sam's entire body was on fire at the prospects ahead.
Eventually, Sheelagh began to ease away. Sam squeezed her eyes shut, unable to contemplate this – not yet, not now. Then a hand cupped her cheek, a thumb running the length of her lip and back again, and her entire body shuddered. All she had to do was open her eyes. That was all. Sheelagh would be gazing back at her; how could she be scared of that? All it would take was for her to open her –
A burst of laughter shattered the peace of the garden and Sam pulled away entirely.
Now when she opened her eyes, she deliberately looked to the ground and not towards Sheelagh. She heard the roar of blood in her ears and fought her impulse to run, even as she recognised the moment had passed. If she was scared before, she felt worse now. It was one thing to get swept away in the heat of the moment but if she looked up at Sheelagh now this would be a choice – this would be her choice. Everything that happened next would be her fault.
'Sam...' Sheelagh whispered.
The tremor of her voice shook what little courage she had left into the ether. No, Sheelagh was as nervous as her and that meant that she couldn't even look at her, let alone come up with some words to resolve this either way.
Her heel connected with the bottom step. 'I'm pretty tired, I think I'm gonna go to bed. I'll see you in the morning.'
'Sam,' repeated Sheelagh, more urgently, as she turned and started up the stairs. 'Breakfast's from seven.'
Halting, she tried to control the spasm of desire that ricocheted through her body and swallowed. What if she could unglue her feet? If she looked back to Sheelagh now, what would she find in her face? What if she was doing the wrong thing? Then again, she didn't have a clue what the right thing was anymore.
'I'll see you at seven then,' she replied. 'Night.'
'Goodnight,' Sheelagh called after her, the pretty lilt of her voice carrying Sam up the steps.
