Chapter 7 - Convergence

The next couple of days went by in a flash. Camille got a new desk near DI Fryer, and she was now working closer together with him and the other intern, Stephen. Together with Constable Collins and a few others, they were forming a new team.

During his surprise appointment with Superintendent Morris, Richard had suggested that they'd re-structure the department and re-distribute tasks and projects – at least until the end of the year, and if the new structure proved to be useful and practical, they'd stick to it. He had claimed that with DI Harrison being away for so long, it would be best to handle it this way, and it also seemed to make sense that Camille and Stephen were trained together.

Richard had pointed out "They both have a completely different background, and this will help the team – as a whole - to gather new insights, but you have to see them as extras, not as a staple, if you know what I mean. They can handle tasks fairly independently – they are both sergeants, after all. We'll gain more flexibility, and Fryer can coordinate their schedules according to whatever prevailing requirements. When their internship will be over, the team will still be strong enough to deal with things – and we might get another intern next time whom we can integrate to the team then. As far as Harrison is concerned, he has called again to say that things with his leg are more complicated than they appeared at first, so we will have to see in how far he can cope with his old position once he comes back. In the meantime, we should focus on trying to get everything streamlined and run the department efficiently. With this new structure, that should be a lot easier."

Superintendent Morris had nodded thoughtfully, then he had asked "And what about the Holloway projects?" Richard had seen this coming and said "Look, sir – I have prepared most of the projects already in cooperation with the head of the station there. All we need to do now is set timeframes for the information events, the open house thing, and so on, and organise the details. Since these projects are all scheduled for next year, there's time enough to discuss details – if we restructure the department the way I've suggested, I will have more time to do that. I would also suggest appointing one person as a go-between so Holloway would have one contact person who would collect all the info, sift through it and pass on the messages and questions of relevance to me once a week or so, so I wouldn't get disturbed with continuous phone calls. You know how people can be when they are mulling over something – they come up with all sorts of redundant stuff, and a contact person could cover my back. I wouldn't get all the obsolete phonecalls and e-mails and waste precious time on getting back to people on stuff that's irrelevant, anyway. We could establish a general e-mail address for that, if you think it's advisable…"

He had hoped that this would go through without too much protest – he hated wasting his time on things like that. Morris had looked a little doubtful, but accepted it in the end. Richard had added "I'd have more time for the really important things, like investigations and files and cases… real police work, you know…"

Morris had stifled a grin. Whatever else was behind Poole's attempt to reorganise the department – and he didn't doubt one moment that there was indeed an ulterior motive – it surely was also about trying to diminish the administrative part of his position. He knew only too well that Richard wasn't too keen on PR work and would rather be out in the streets and solve cases than sit in the office and deal with what he called 'politics'.

Then he had asked "And Fryer and you will organise it all?"

"Yes, sir. I have discussed this with him already, and like me, he thinks that once the initial hiccups are overcome, it'll all go smoothly. Of course, it will require some adjustment, as any change does, but we'll get there. It's an… it's an attempt to see if things can be run differently by taking advantage of – er – um - synergy effects. You know, many things are done in a particular way only because they have always been done this way, and while much of that makes sense, there are some traditions that are outdated. I'm not saying that change just for the sake of change is a good thing. That wouldn't make sense. However, it wouldn't hurt to do away with some of the old shibboleths, if you know what I mean."

Richard had felt like a revolutionary when he had said this. Traditions and customs had always been important to him – and they still were. They were standards to live by. He had never felt very comfortable with change, but he realised that it was one thing to be the thrown into it without the chance of having a say – and quite another one to be proactive, create change and make it happen. The former was something one endured passively, but the latter would rather be called 'decision-making' - they had the same outcome, though: both brought changes…

He had known that Fryer had been frustrated with how some things were handled at the station right now, and so Fryer had been the one that he had approached. It wasn't that Harrison wouldn't have agreed to changes – he just wasn't the kind of person who would have helped much. Fryer, however, was keen on distinguishing himself; he wanted to make his mark and show off his organisational skills. Harrison, on the other hand, was more of a 'hanger-on' – he'd accept change, but wouldn't do anything to make it happen.

Initially, Richard had felt a little sneaky for acting behind Harrison's back – but then again, it was his absence that had given him the chance to act at all, and Harrison would profit from the new structure in the end as his open cases were now divided among the new team, and when he returned, he wouldn't 'owe' a particular person for stepping in – Fryer would take care of the cases with the group of sergeants and the two interns, and Richard would take over when there was an emergency.

They'd see how that would work out, and Richard hoped it would prove to be as efficient as it looked from the outside. It would also give Fryer a chance to show his potential – Richard knew that his DI would appreciate this, and he'd prove himself grateful later on. That couldn't hurt, and it couldn't hurt to have an ally here at the station, anyway…

In any event, even if they decided to return to the old system – and Richard hoped that they wouldn't do that because he hated inefficiency and was convinced that his new concept was better – the new system's trial period lasted until the end of the year, and that definitely meant that he would not be Camille's supervisor. She would mostly work with Fryer, and even if he called her for back-up in exceptional situations, Fryer would be responsible for writing her report. Morris would countersign it. It would work the same way for Stephen – the other intern. Richard had pointed out it would be a good thing to have both interns working together under the same supervisor in a team with other sergeants – they would take on responsibility and wouldn't just take the second billing to their supervisor or the other sergeants. Also, it would be easier to coordinate their duties – and it would become obvious very quickly how adaptable and team-minded someone was.

The staff's initial reaction had been a little guarded – they hadn't quite known what to think of it all. Richard had outlined the system, given them an overview and stressed that it would take a little time to get used to the changes, but that it would all be worth it in the end, and Fryer had pointed out the positive sides in more detail. He had also given them a couple of examples where the current system was cumbersome and slow and how they could be so much more efficient if they looked at things differently. The briefing had ended with people being cautiously optimistic, and during the afternoon, they had slowly started to switch desks and discuss how they'd implement the relevant changes.

The first couple of days had been a bit confusing for everyone, and of course, the other departments of the station were eager to see if this was going to be a success or a failure, but by the end of the week, the hubbub had calmed down, and everyone had settled in – at least more or less so.

On Friday afternoon, DI Fryer looked around and remarked "Well, kids, that's it for today. Anyone joining me at the pub for a round or two? I'd think we've deserved it…"

There was a bit of a ruckus as people gave their assent, went to look for their coats and packed up work. Richard was nowhere to be seen. As Camille tucked her phone into her bag, she had an idea, and she said to Constable Collins who was standing by her desk, waiting for her to come "Don't wait for me, Sarah. Go ahead to the pub and save a place for me – I'll be there in a few minutes. I just realised I have to finish something urgent, but it won't keep me long, so…"

Collins nodded in agreement and turned to go, quickening her steps as she was trying to catch up with a few others who were just walking down the corridor. Over the past week, she had got to know Camille a little better, and she was impressed with her determination and resourcefulness. She had never been very determined herself – except for one thing, and that had been about joining the police. Her parents hadn't been too excited, and her friends had thought she was bonkers, but she was happy with her decision so far. Camille was something like a role model for her – and although she knew that admiring someone too much wasn't healthy because you never were free if you did that, she felt that Camille was an inspiring example.

A few minutes later, the department was basically empty. Camille checked her hair and her lipstick, then she put on her coat and took her bag. She took a deep breath, knocked on Richard's office door, and when she heard him answer – absent-mindedly – she smiled to herself and stuck her head inside.

"Hello," she said softly. He looked up and said "Oh, is it time to go already? Have a good weekend, Camille…"

But she didn't back out, instead she came to his desk and perched on one corner, ignoring his frown as she was making a mess of the papers he had laid out so carefully and saying "Time to go, yes, and that applies to you as well… You've worked so hard all week long… Why don't you come along to the pub and have a drink with… with the team? I thought you were so deeply rooted in the English way of life that you wouldn't need further encouragement… and we've got a reason to celebrate – we've survived the first week as a newly structured department, haven't we…"

He looked up to her, a little doubtfully, and said – mild reproach in his voice – "I didn't know you were so keen on English traditions, Camille!"

She interjected quickly "Well, Richard, you know what they say… when in Rome, and all that…"

He raised his eyebrows and said with a slightly miffed undertone "Yes, rub it in – I know what you mean, I've never been good at blending in on Saint Marie. But whatever, it hasn't been an entire week yet, and you're making it sound like it's a horrible mess that one can only forget about by getting plastered…"

She smiled a little and said then "That's not what I mean, and you know it. Why are you making it so difficult? Come on, let's celebrate! I tell you what… I'm a bit short of cash, but I'll promise to buy you a drink if you come along…"

Seeing that he was still hesitating, she added very softly and very gently "Please… Chief…"

He looked at her, and in an instant, they both were transported back in time, to the moment when he had quietly (and stupidly) turned her down because she had refused to call him 'Chief'…

They were back on the veranda of the Honoré Police Station, and he had just pondered that he might actually like to have a drink with Camille and the rest of the team to celebrate that they had caught the killer of Polly Carter and that he had managed to make his parents see that they belonged together… but then he had figured that if she could be stubborn, so could he… and by not answering to her remark, he had made it clear that he wouldn't come.

Oh, so often, he had wondered what would have happened if he had joined them… instead of spending the evening at the bar with his team, he had stayed at home, reading a book about insects. He had missed so many chances…

No, he'd grab this one. Although she had said he was being difficult – nonsense, he never was difficult! Well, maybe he was, but that was his own business, wasn't it?

However… even if it was only going to be a drink in a loud pub, together with the entire department, it would be a first step. The fact that she had asked him seemed to indicate that she wanted them to spend time together…

And… she had actually called him 'Chief' after all… With a delay, but well… better late than never, he figured.

Hours later, Camille came home to her dull, boring, unexciting room in the guesthouse. On the way, she had felt elated, but now that she unlocked the door she felt a bit let down, realising that the remainder of the evening would be decidedly unspectacular. However, she knew she had no reason to complain… It had been a fun evening – she had spent more money than she had wanted, but less than she had expected, so that was good, and overall, she was rather pleased with herself.

There had been quite a few surprised faces and wide eyes when she had showed up with Richard in tow, but Collins had quickly finagled additional seating space in a snug – yes, the 'Wild Boar' had snugs as well, just like the 'White Hart', Richard's old locale in Croydon. He had obviously felt a bit uneasy at first, as if he wasn't used to spending time in a pub any more (and he had confessed later on to Camille that it had been months since he had last been out with the team), but eventually he had loosened up and enjoyed himself – as much as Richard was able to enjoy himself in a noisy crowd of people. She had bought him a beer and got one for herself, too – and although they hadn't talked all that much, it had been good to sit next to him. And from how he had sometimes looked at her, it had seemed that he didn't mind being jammed together with her in the snug, either. It had felt good to know that he was still somewhat attracted to her – and she had every reason to believe that it wasn't only wishful thinking from her side…

They had left the pub together eventually, and Richard had walked her to Kings Cross Station – it was just a little over a mile away, and it hadn't been all that late yet, just about 8 p.m., so neither of them had been in a hurry. It would be easier to get away from Kings Cross than from Camille's usual tube station, and Richard had explained that he could catch a train from there, too.

It was a lovely route to walk – Richard had showed her a way along a canal that Camille most likely wouldn't have found herself. There were lights, and it was a paved path, so it was completely safe – well, as safe as it could be in a big city. Several people had walked there, there had been a few joggers and runners, too, and Camille had felt at peace.

It was already dark fairly early these days, but it wasn't all that cold at the moment. The weather had become a little better over the past days, and according to the forecast the weekend should be sunny and pleasant – as they were in October already it wouldn't be warm, but nice enough for outdoor activities.

"So what are you going to do over the weekend?" Camille had asked curiously. She knew that Richard had never been very active during his time in the Caribbean, but she had concluded from snippets of conversations she had overheard that it was different here – and also it was pretty obvious, considering that Richard was slimmer than he had been on Saint Marie - and clearly fitter, too.

He had responded "I'm not entirely sure yet. I have chores to do, but there's also a concert in a church I'd like to attend, and if the weather stays this nice, I might want to go for a run… And you?"

She had shrugged and said "Not sure, either. I've been trying to explore the surroundings of my new flat lately, so I might go for a long walk – or maybe even a run…" – she had smiled, silently recognising his remark that he ran, too – "but other than that, I don't know. I'll find something to do, though… Everything is so expensive here, so I have to be careful…"

"You're moving?" he had asked, acknowledging with a sideways glance that she also was a runner, and realising that he didn't have the faintest idea of her living circumstances. She had nodded and explained "And it's about time. I live in a guesthouse at the moment…" – and she had given him the full story of how she had found a place and then lost it before she had signed the contract, concluding with "… and so I'll be moving in November. I don't have an awful lot of things to move, so I consider doing it all in one go, but I'm not quite sure yet. I guess I'll play it by ear when the time comes. I look forward to having a place of my own. I'm clearly too old for guesthouses – too much noise, and nothing works properly. You can't even cook yourself a proper meal because the kitchenette is lousy, and you sleep in the same room where you cook, so you can imagine it's not particularly convenient. But it's okay for a short period of time."

"You're not old," he had said, obviously focusing on how she had said she was too old for living in a guesthouse. She had raised her eyebrows and replied, seemingly entirely seriously "Didn't you already say a couple of years ago that I was old? I haven't become any younger since then…"

He had known exactly what she was alluding to and chuckled "Yeah, right, you are the doll with the wonky eye and the broken arm… Seriously, Camille, when will you ever stop taxing me with that? I never said this, and you know it…"

They had reached the train station, and it had been time to part ways. She had laughed, nudged him with her elbow and joked "Oh, you did… and you said I was left on the shelf… and look, this is exactly what I am… I'm only here because all hope for finding a good catch is gone! I'm an old, embittered, withered spinster, career-obsessed and without the faintest spark of a sense of humour…"

Then, more seriously, she had added "Thanks for walking me here, Richard - that was very kind of you. And it was nice of you to come along to the pub, too!"

And before he had known what was happening – and before she could chicken out again – she had leant over and kissed him on the cheek.

This would have to do for now. She had hopefully given him to understand that she was trying to make a new start and hit the reset button for their relationship. The kiss that they had exchanged just before he had left Saint Marie, this one wonderful, heavenly kiss… it had somehow stood between them since they had seen each other again earlier this week, and while she cherished the memory and hoped to repeat the experience (preferably quite soon!), she knew she'd have to take it slowly. She didn't want him to feel uneasy around her.

She was no longer holding a grudge against him for leaving Saint Marie – although she had been reluctant to see it for a long time, she had understood that he hadn't had much of a choice at that point. If they had both been clearer about their wishes and feelings, it might have been different – but the way it had been, neither of them had known what the other one had felt. She knew that now.

And if she had interpreted his actions correctly, he had moved heaven and earth to get them out of the trainee / supervisor situation, so obviously he had felt uncomfortable with this, too. For a moment she had thought it might be that he didn't want to work with her, but after she had recalled his reaction to her sudden appearance at the station, she had realised that this couldn't be the point. It had been obvious that he had been confused, but pleased to see her, so it had to be something different that had made him try to get her out of his direct workfield. Maybe he had decided that it was better if they didn't work so closely together, given their cooperation on Saint Marie – but maybe it had also been that he had wanted the coast to be clear for a less professional relationship… She hoped it was the latter…

She'd find out eventually.

Sunday came, and Richard got ready for his run, albeit still being a little tired from last night's concert. It had taken a little longer than anticipated, and then he hadn't been able to fall asleep immediately after his return home. He had been thinking of the evening in the pub – and how good it had felt to sit next to Camille. Once, she had leant over and whispered a remark about DI Fryer into his ear – Fryer had a tendency to get a little too jovial when he had had a little too much alcohol, and Camille just had to comment on that, but didn't want to do so all too openly – after all, Fryer would write her report in the end, so she didn't want to affront him. As she had moved and leant over, Richard had been engulfed by the scent of her perfume – he had never forgotten the specific fruity scent that she wore… And it had been impossible to ignore the close softness of her body, the way she tilted her head to one side, the sparkle in her eyes…

And long suppressed feelings and wishes had come up again…

How funny that she also was into running… He had always admired her athletic, well-toned body, and he had known that she exercised a lot, but he had never really thought about what sort of exercise she enjoyed. He had known about her gym membership, and of course, she had always done things like zumba and that kind of newfangled stuff – whatever it was called! -, but he hadn't expected her to do something so old-fashioned and conventional like running… It was reassuring to know that they were on the same page there.

He had half-expected her to make a sarcastic remark about how he had never been athletic back on Saint Marie, but she had just nodded and smiled when he had mentioned running, so obviously, she had accepted that some of his habits had changed with time… He couldn't possibly tell her about the mortifying moment when he had showed up for his medical examination after his return from Saint Marie and the doctor in charge had said 'Ah, Poole – gained a bit of weight during your stay in the Caribbean, huh? Such is the good life!' His suits had still fit, but admittedly, they had been a bit tight, so exercising more had been the solution. Still, it had taken him a while to get going…

For a moment, he had imagined her in running gear, full of vim and vigour – sweat running down her face and her neck, trickling down her neckline, her hair mussed and wild, her eyes shining with laughter and energy… but then he had gavelled himself… she was not an advert for running shoes, after all… Really, what was he thinking?

And why had she called herself an embittered, withered spinster? She wasn't anything of that kind, and she knew it. Camille wasn't left on the shelf – she was an independent spirit, and she was on her own because she hadn't found anybody she wanted to share her life with, he was certain of that. She wasn't the type who'd get together with someone just for the sake of being part of a couple. She'd rather be on her own than being in a relationship that felt wrong.

Did she want a relationship at all? Would she be open to his advances – whatever they'd look like?

He had lay there in his bed, wondering how to go about from here. The main obstacle was out of the way, but what now? He had never thought beyond that point…

Well, maybe his run would help – the weather was marvellous, and he hoped being outside would bring him clarity. Apparently, they were finally having a 'golden October', as the weatherman called it, and he had refrained from going swimming on Saturday as he had figured he could still do this on other weekends when the weather was more dismal, and it would be fun to spend time outside again and explore a few new trails.

For a while, he had always taken the same route, but over the past year, he had started to go for detours and find new paths. Sometimes, he had found himself in dead ends – trails that had initially looked good and then turned into mud holes or ended abruptly – but most of the time, he had found the experience very rewarding. It was funny, on Saint Marie he had clung to his routines and habits almost religiously – just like he had done before moving there – but after his return, his attitude had gradually changed.

And taking new routes also distracted him from his thoughts. He enjoyed running – and swimming – because he could think quietly about all the stuff going through his head, and he had often felt a lot clearer after his runs and swims. However, this good aspect could turn into a curse - when he found that his thoughts were going in circles and he just couldn't get away from them, no matter how far he ran or swam. Then, looking out for new routes during a run provided distraction – and when he was swimming, he usually switched to high impact training, alternating with a slower pace for a few laps in between.

These had become his coping strategies when things got too confusing for him.

Today, however, he would try just to enjoy the good weather, the rustling of golden leaves under his feet, the clear, crisp air… and with a little luck, he might have a brain wave and figure out how to approach Camille… without being too obvious, of course.