I'm too good to you, you know. Two chapters posted on a Saturday night? It's like the Gene Genie turning up at your desk and nicking the biscuits from the office tea swindle whilst you stare open mouthed at a) his presence and b) his bare faced cheek!

Chapter 5

Monday morning dawned.

Gene staggered out of bed, yawning and reaching for his first cigarette of the day.

Every week he promised himself he would cut down, and every week he reneged on the promise.

Bloody public information films - they were responsible for the thought that maybe, just maybe, it would be a good thing to give up the tabbing.

Stretching and yawning, Gene flicked the radio on and was greeted with the same cheery Irish voice that seemed to be an institution.

'Morning Terry…' Gene said to the radio as he shaved, taking careful strokes as he slowly woke up.

Grabbing what would pass as breakfast from the café round the corner from his flat, Gene jumped a red light and came to a screeching halt in front of Fenchurch East Police Station.

'Morning Guv.' The ever present Viv greeted him as he shifted through the weekend shift's paperwork.

Gene nodded at him and strode down the corridor towards CID, his breakfast wrapped in many layers of greaseproof paper in his coat pocket. Somehow a fried egg butty never tasted as good without a force issue strong cup of tea.

Ray was in small corner kitchen, searching for milk that might just do, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

'Mornin' Raymundo. How's tricks?' Gene greeted him.

'Would be better if we could get Shaz to bring in milk before the rest of us get in, Guv.' Ray moaned. 'Weekend alright?'

'Yeah. Fine.' Gene didn't really want the rest of CID to know he'd bedded down at Bolly's on Friday night.

Ray raised a quizzical eyebrow, something he wasn't actually that great at, but he liked to think made him look like James Bond.

It didn't.

'We, er, missed you at the end of Friday night in Luigi's y'know…' he tailed off.

Gene sniffed and, to cover his embarrassment, started to search for a clean mug and a plate for his breakfast. Although as the cleaners had been in he didn't have to search far.

'Well, y'know, lousy day, decided to make an early night for once. See the match on Saturday?'

'Did I? Bloody travesty! That was never offside! That ref was either blind or bribed! Either way, he's a div!'

Gene released a slow breath of relief. Now Ray had been successfully distracted by the all pervading subject of football, all would be well.

Eventually, Gene made his way to his office and, digging out his in-tray, whacking open the window in his office, and flicking the radio on, he decided to finally have his breakfast.

Which, of course, decided to explode down his tie.

A loud expletive resounded around the office, and it was only just gone 8am.

Alex stood in front of her full length mirror, a recent purchase after her arrival in 1981.

When she was 'home' she refused to step outside to meet the rest of the world without first checking she hadn't committed some hideous crime against fashion.

And even if now 'fashion' meant copious layers of blue eye shadow and jeans so tight she had to lay down and close them with a coat hanger, well, standards were standards.

Satisfied she wasn't letting herself down she grabbed her keys and purse - oh, how she missed her proper wallet and her all singing and all dancing tiny mobile - and shoved them in her jacket pocket.

Her eyes fell on her bedside table. There was something else she had to take to work with her this morning - like she could forget. Having carefully and gently pressed it, she had folded it up and left it by her clock alarm.

How the hell was she going to get the damn tie back to Gene without the rest of CID seeing and it kick starting the biggest bit of gossip since it was alleged Viv was bigamously married?

(Which turned out to be false information. His wife had just lost a noticeable amount of weight and had a makeover. Chris was still living that one down.)

She went to put the tie in her jacket pocket. No room. In either.

Unsuccessfully, Alex searched for an inside pocket.

'Damn!' she muttered and looked at her jeans.

Not an option.

And she, apparently, didn't take a handbag to work. So taking one in today would just scream 'Something odd is occurring' to the rest of the office. People would notice this one small edition to her outfit.

A sudden thought came to her, and she smiled.

'Maybe, just maybe….' she said and pulled the tie out from it's neat folded state.

A few minutes later she slammed her front door and skipped down the stairs, pulling her sunglasses over her eyes.

'Genius, Alex, you really are a genuis!' she told herself.

Completely missing the funny look the postman gave her as he watched her talking to herself.