With Joseph's help, Harry has issued the divorce papers, and a restraining order against her husband who is on bail. She tries not to think about him out there, but she's heard that he's not in London and prays that it's true.
She's almost, almost, over the nightmares that have been haunting her since she left Robert. She's been waking in a cold sweat, heart pounding convinced he's here. But she keeps herself busy, walking for miles around the estate with the protection of her father's most bravest of dogs or with company, from someone from the house, until she gets tired out after a nourishing meal with her father and a few trusted distant family or close friends of her father's.
Each week she sees a counsellor and she starts to piece herself back together and understands that the sadness in her father's eyes is not her fault. When she briefly mentions Dempsey, her father suggested that he rung Spikings but it feels wrong and contrived so she leaves it alone and heeds her father's words about professional distance with disappointment.
Her father has a house in Camberwell Grove in need of a tenant, so she moves in, taking Dempsey's card with her in case - she tells herself. Her neighbour and distant family are around, giving her a sense of security. The house has more alarms that necessary but it's starting to feel like hers as her father arranges to move furniture from the hall. She loves the ticking of the grandfather clock which seems to mark the minutes of her recovery.
She makes contact with a professor at the Natural History Museum who needs help with his work. It's a nightmare of sorting years of research but she's managed to get a new computer. Her academic colleagues are thankfully too wrapped up in research to worry too much about her life story and they rarely socialise. It suits her fine for the moment. It's on rare break that she finds herself a police station to report her change of address in case of any incidents. As she walks in, she wonders if she'll see Dempsey again around London.
Behind her there's a slam of a door and she tries not to jump because the female officer behind the desk is taking down her details and she already feels like a liability when she's asked why she didn't stay at the hall. Mind your business is what she wants to say, but she explains lack of employment. Actually, she also needs a bloody distraction. There's that look of disbelief on the woman's face, given the address and notoriety of her family estate. "It's not mine," She says firmly and she's proud of herself. She pushes the memory of the last time that she said words similar to this and Robert's reaction.
"You barely left." A familiar Welsh voice rises over the rabble in the reception area of the station. Harry feels her heart leap, it's Spikings. She can't bear to turn around in case he's talking to someone else, not who she wants to see. "The very least you could've done is kept within the rules. Less work for me, less trouble for you."
"I had my reasons." She can hear Brooklyn tones and her heart hammers. She wonders where he's been but she's fearful of finding out. For all she knows there's a Mrs Dempsey and two kids, and he had forgotten about her entirely.
"New York, bloody New York," Spikings grumbles, "Meanwhile London went into criminal meltdown, they must have heard you left. Why are you back?"
"I told you, I had my reasons. Maybe I left a bit of my heart here." Dempsey looks around and then looks at the receptionist. "I'm looking for Joyce Hargreaves."
Harry can hear Spikings groan.
"I want the reports from the house." Dempsey argues, "That's reasonable isn't?"
Harry hesitates a glance at him, unable to resist. and checks how she responds. She's been jumpy around men, anyone who reminds her of Robert caused her to physically retreat. The more he becomes the past, the less she's reacted, but she's aware of how she behaves.
Dempsey looks as safe and strong as she last remembered, but he seems exuberant and loud, as if he's off the starting blocks in a race and she's a little cautious. He's grown a moustache that hangs over his top lip and needs trimming. It only seems to draw her attention to his eyes which are currently flicking around the room as if he's taking in everyone, including, suddenly, her. On seeing her they appear to light up, "Harriet!"
Any reluctance on her part is swallowed up in his smile. "Hello, what are you doing here?"
"I'm police." Then, because he sounds like he's pointing out the obvious and he's too tongue-tied to say much else, "We often drop into other stations and stuff."
It's a lie. SI-10 command officers to come to them, but he wants to read the reports on Robert Makepeace to check that they have secure case much Spikings irritation. His boss thinks forensics can do just as good. But he is determined to make sure the man's sentence is double or triple the time that the lawyers seem to think it'll be. The door behind the desk opens and he naturally says hello to Joyce who is carrying the report in her hand. He knew she'd find a way; "You angel, thank you."
"James Dempsey…What do I owe the pleasure of your delightful company?" Joyce slides up to him from the other side of the desk with a grin. On seeing Harry she gives her a friendly smile, "Lady Winfield, how are you…"
"…excuse me, sorry I'm interrupting. I'll see you around." Harry knows when she's not wanted and feels awkward, quashing the disappointment she feels. Joyce must be his girlfriend or at least a good friend.
"Joyce… justa second, can I catch up with you later?" Dempsey feels his heart sink. He's used to teasing Joyce, nothing will come of it. She's devoted to her family, but Harriet doesn't know that.
"You just got here!" Joyce looks at the blonde picking up her hat and pulling a coat around her. "Oh! You rogue. Has she caught your eye?"
"Something like that., maybe." Dempsey doesn't feel very roguish.
"It's alright. I've no doubt Spikings will tell me what you're up to." Joyce gives him a shove.
Dempsey glances over at Spikings who has got talking to someone high up, who never speaks to him and strides to the door, trying to take it easy, but at the same time, he has to stop her, "Can we talk, outside for second, Harriet?"
She shivers in the street, "It's Harry, I prefer to be called Harry these days."
He nods, studies her carefully for a moment, "It suits you."
It should alarm her, his intense gaze but it's friendly. Then he runs a hand through his hair and she's worried she's offended him somehow. He seems to catch onto this and offers her a reassuring smile. She notices a gap in his teeth. It's the sort of imperfection that her ex-husband would have corrected, but one she find endearing and human. Harry returns his smile, it's infectious and he seems to visibly relax.
"I wanted to call you but I had to go back to New York to give evidence against someone. I meant to stay. A long story about why I'm here, but I'm back now. Spikings can vouch for me." He rambles.
"I believe you." Harry says quietly. She's got to start trusting someone in this wretched life.
He looks temporarily stunned for a moment. "You do?"
"You don't look like the sort of man to create fictitious trips to New York, unless you're about to tell me that you're really an East End cockney milkman." She speculates, brushing her hair from her face.
He huffs in amusement at this, "No, I wouldn't dare, I'd be hounded out the city walls for crimes against accents."
She can't remember when she's made anyone laugh before. Everyone has been too busy patting her hands and checking she's alright, if only she remembered what 'alright' was. Now in this chilly London street, she thinks she remembers what it means.
"Do you have time to talk?" He asks suddenly, "Get a coffee or a drink sometime?"
"I don't know." She hesitates, it sounds like a date and there's no way she wants to lead him on even if her thoughts stray to what if. "Are there rules?"
"I'm not officially working on the case anymore." Dempsey isn't often rejected but he can't quite bring himself to walk away from her yet. "I'd just like to get to know you a bit better, no strings."
"A no-strings drink sounds nice." She says tentatively, ignoring her apprehension. He didn't seem to be suggesting any agenda, and God knows she could use a distraction when friends were hard to come by.
"Where would you like to go?" He asks softly, "When?"
"What about a drink after work tonight? I finish around five." Harry suggests, less time to get nervous."There's a wine bar around the corner from where I live, The Star and Garter, off Camberwell Grove."
"That - that sounds great." There's a small crack in his voice that disarms her and it makes her smile. "I'll meet you there, six suit you?"
"See you later Lieutenant Dempsey." Harry disappears into the street and he watches her until she's gone from his view.
"I've been given the third degree by Hargreaves. I told her the facts, not the fantasy that I think is playing in your head." Spikings raises an eyebrow when he finally finds his officer. "Dempsey, from one man to another, be careful. You can't have every woman you set your sights on."
"There's something about her, she's not every woman." Dempsey says, aware that she could be seen as another conquest, that's not what he thinks though. He climbs in the car, still looking out for her.
"And it appeals to your inner caveman. One day, God willing, she won't be the victim anymore." Spikings observes. "Either way, it's not going to be easy."
"It's gonna be an exercise in self-control." Dempsey confesses, "But whatever it takes. I'll do it."
Spikings eyes his officer from the passenger seat with caution. "You've either got it bad, son or you're growing up."