Chapter 2

A/N: I decided it needed a little build up, so I have split the final chapter into two! Hope you'll forgive me…

Given how much money Richard had spent on the tickets, Camille felt she should invest in a nice dress…and some nice things to go under that dress as well. Unfortunately, this meant she had to make excuses not to spend the weekend with him. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if he was trailing around the shops after her, an activity she was almost certain he wouldn't enjoy anyway. It was a shame, it would have been nice to spend the weekend as a couple – but she was sure they had many weekends ahead of them to laze about in bed all day. Especially if he was going to continue to surprise her as he had the past few nights.

Richard had woken up the previous morning and informed her, "I was having a dream about you."

"Oh yes?" She said enquiringly. Then, recalling something he had said previously, asked, "And tell me was I in formal wear?" Perhaps she could get him to describe it, so she could get an idea of the kind of dress he might want to see on her.

"Yes," he said. "But not for very long."

They were late for work.

Richard was a little upset when Camille apparently needed a whole weekend away from him. Well, technically not the whole weekend, she still appeared in the evenings – but informed him that she had other plans for the day. Plans she told him she had made before she knew there would be someone she'd rather be spending time with – and that it would be rude of her to cancel. So he sat at home during the day, spending them as he would of before he and Camille 'got together' – reading, pottering about talking to Harry, and staring at the phone wondering if somebody would commit a crime and he'd get called into work. Where she would be as well.

He also worried about why she was spending the days away from him – paranoid there might be more to it than what she was saying. It felt like she was being a little evasive when explaining her plans – like she was hiding something. But Richard thought that perhaps he had spent too long as a police officer and it made him naturally suspicious. Camille couldn't possibly be getting bored of him already? Feeling the need to get away?

When Camille did come around in the evenings she seemed pretty enthusiastic about his attentions then. Richard could never imagine a woman keeping him around because he was good in bed, even if she couldn't stand his personality. Largely because he didn't really think he was good in bed – though he was good at following instructions, and Camille seemed pretty satisfied with the experience. He definitely was.

"But Maman…" Camille whined.

"Don't 'but Maman' me young lady, you promised! Your Great Aunt is flying a long way to get here and at her age this might be the last trip she ever makes. She has always adored you and you are taking her out for the day and for dinner that evening."

Camille had never particularly liked her great aunt, who had always seemed elderly to her even as a young girl, and it frankly amazed her the woman was still breathing let alone flying across the Atlantic to come plague them for her yearly visit. Obviously she wasn't trying to get out of seeing her for the whole week – but was hoping to get out of joining them for dinner one night, so she could spent more time with Richard. She was worried he was feeling a little left out. It had been an incredibly busy week at work, a hell of a lot of overtime at been earned. Or would have been, if the Saint Marie Police Force actually had to money to pay them overtime. Instead they were all overworked, underpaid and certainly far too tired to do much with the spare time they did have except sleep. Camille had booked the day off to spend with her Great Aunt weeks ago, and she didn't see why that had to extend into the evening. Normally Great Aunt Fi, smelling strongly of Port, fell asleep before desert arrived anyway.

"But Maman I am only asking to skip dinner!" She protested loudly. "You know how busy we have been this week, it would be nice to spend an evening with Richard…"

"Oh you two have the rest of your lives together!" Catherine interrupted her daughter. "So one evening with your poor, elderly Great Aunt is nothing in the grand scheme of things." This gave Camille pause, and Catherine took advantage of this to say firmly, "I'll tell Aunt Fi when I pick her up later how much you are looking forward to tomorrow, including dinner. In fact, I have a better idea, you can come with me to pick her up."

Camille was too taken aback to protest further – even if she was now being forced into going to the airport to pick up her Aunt who was arriving on a ridiculously late flight. Instead she asked, rather shyly, "You really see us…being together forever?"

"I didn't say forever," Catherine replied. "I said for the rest of your lives. Which might be quite short, say if you fail to turn up for dinner." Camille just shook her head and Catherine continued, "But more seriously, I think both of you are too stubborn to let this relationship fail." She didn't say it out loud, but Camille was glad for a little reassurance on that front. She had thought her mother might not entirely approve of her relationship with Richard. Of course, she hadn't exactly said she did yet, but she hadn't been disapproving either.

Camille supposed she better go break the news to Richard.

It has been a hell of few days. They'd started early and worked late until the thing had been solved. At times Camille had had to remind him to eat, he had given little thought to anything else. But it was done, dusted, every piece of paperwork filed and the culprit transferred to the local prison to await trial – there was no way any judge would be letting him out on bail. Weirdly he found now that he was missing Camille – even though they had spent the whole case together, it was not spending time in the way he wanted to. And he didn't just mean that. Ninety-five percent of their interactions that week had been professional, to the point where he has seriously begun to wonder if their new relationship has actually all been a dream. That the heat had finally made him snap, and he had imagined being in her bed. But every now and then she would send a smile his way, with a certain knowing about it, that helped him get through. But still, Camille had tomorrow off to escort some elderly relative around the island. She had told Richard she would abandon her with Catherine at dinner time and come see him instead.

It was getting late, he had gone back to the station after brief celebratory drinks to do the paperwork wanting the whole case out of the way by tomorrow, and Camille had stayed behind to inform Catherine of her plans for the next day. Now he was at home he found himself staring at his phone, wondering if he should call her, or if perhaps she had already gone to bed. But then, as if a goddess somewhere could hear his thoughts and decided to grant him a wish, it rang – the screen lighting up and informing him it was Camille.

"Hi!" He said, a little breathless with enthusiasm. Then a horrible thought occurred to him – what if she was calling because there had been another murder. It was that thought that prompted him to say more cautiously, "What is it?"

"What is it?" She echoed back at him. "You don't sound that pleased to hear from me," she grumbled.

"I am pleased," Richard told her truthfully. "I just thought you might be telling me some bad news."

"Richard…" She began, but he cut her off.

"I know, I know! I am too pessimistic. Too English as you would no doubt say." He couldn't stop grinning now, he could be self-deprecating – take a little teasing from her, if he meant he just got to hear her voice. Even though part of his brain was screaming at him not too, he added, "If anybody makes me feel positive about life it's you."

Camille sighed. It was not the response he was hoping for. It was, in fact, very nearly the opposite of the response he was hoping for. He quickly began to trip over his words in an attempt to backtrack, "Yeah um, sorry, that was kind of soppy and, you know, cheesy and you deserve better and um, what I meant was, like, um…"

"Richard!" She said firmly. "What you said was really sweet and lovely and I sighed because I wish I was there."

"Well you could be here," he suggested, whilst trying to figure out if being called sweet and lovely was a good thing. Perhaps a woman like Camille preferred somebody more…macho. Who would sweep her off her feet, not offer lame compliments. "Or I could be there," he added.

"I wish but Maman is making me go with her to pick up Auntie Fi," she told him.

"Making you," he repeated back. As he superior officer, even he couldn't make Camille do anything – she even did it because she agreed his order or she went her own way.

"You have met my mother," she pointed out. And he hummed, suddenly understanding what she meant. Catherine was the one woman who could order Camille around. He knew he was going to try and get on that woman's good side, somehow, in the future because she held so much sway over her daughter. Richard wasn't entirely sure what Catherine thought about him – but he knew she didn't wholly approve, he didn't think it was all his fault though. No doubt she wouldn't think he was good enough for Camille – he didn't think he was good enough for Camille most of the time.

"Oh well, I have dinner tomorrow to look forward to," he said, trying to display some optimism.

"Yes," she said, with a tone Richard didn't think he'd ever heard her use before. Sounded like…guilt. "About that. Um, picking up Aunt Fi isn't the only thing Maman is forcing me to do. I'm sorry, she won't let me out of dinner." Richard didn't reply. He couldn't reply – because the disappointment was all encompassing and the words wouldn't come out. In response to the silence his end Camille asked, "Are you very mad?"

"I'm not mad I just thought…I'm…are you sure you can't get out of it?" He sounded like he was pleading, and he was a bit. Richard told himself to suck it up. He knew what the answer to that question was. Was this Catherine perhaps trying to keep them apart already? No, he was being paranoid. He needed to offer solutions not point out problems, "Well, I would like to see you. I could come to dinner…I mean, um, or just for a drink?" What was he thinking, inviting himself along? That was rude. It showed how much he wanted to see her. "It's probably too early to meet great-aunts, isn't it?"

"No, not at all, I would love you to come along," his heart soared. "But Richard Aunt Fi doesn't speak a single word of English, except a few swear words she picked up from British airmen during the war. Plus her accent is very strong and your French isn't exactly…"

"I know exactly what my French is up to." And it wasn't dinner conversation, except perhaps enough to be able to actual order.

"I'm so sorry Richard," and she did sound it.

"Never mind," he said. This was hardly the first time he had been disappointed in his life, he would muddle through as usual. However, he wasn't ready to let her go just yet. "So, what are your plans with your Great Aunt?"

"Oh!" Said Camille brightly. "We can finally do something different with her this year – we are taking her on one of those glass bottom boat tours. Normally they don't do the tours in French on Thursdays, but I bumped into Keenan today and did you know he can speak French?"

"No," said Richard, wondering where this was going.

"Yes, really well. Apparently he did at A-level, whatever that means." Richard would have told her, but she didn't even draw breath as she continued gushingly, "I mentioned my problem to him and he was really sweet and offered to come with us and provide a translation service. I mean, I could have done it, but he'll be much better at the technical stuff and will be able to answer Aunt Fi's questions directly! Isn't that just ideal?"

Yes, Richard supposed that it did. "It is very nice of him."

"Isn't it, he really is a sweet young man you know. One of those people where you just can't understand why they are single." Richard thought to himself that probably in the past, at no point, had anybody wondered why he was single.

"Camille," he began, wanting to bring the conversation back around to them. Wanting to tell her something, but not sure what that thing was yet. "Camille, I…"

"Just a sec," she said, cutting him off. "Yes, yes," He heard her say impatiently. "I'm sorry Richard," she said coming back on. "It is time to leave. I will speak to you soon!"

"Bye," he said, but it was too late – she had already hung up. He dropped the phone on the bed, and cursed whatever goddess had decided to grant his wish with nothing but false hope.