Chapter 8 – Getting the ball rolling

Camille had decided to leave her mother in the dark about the fact that she worked in Richard's department now, at least for the moment. As much as she loved her, and as much as she appreciated her support in all possible ways, she felt she had to keep this to herself for a while – until she had figured out where she and Richard were going. She knew that Catherine wanted her to find closure – one way or another. But these things couldn't be done in a rush. So, she'd just tell her she got transferred to another station after the previous week's disaster, and that things were going okay at the new place – and that would be it. It felt a little sneaky, but she knew she had to do this on her own…

She had gone through a myriad of feelings since Richard had left Saint Marie, and although she had worked out by now that she (still) wanted more from Richard than just friendship and that all the years of separation hadn't cooled down her desire to be with him, she had no real plan for how to translate her wishes into action. He was much more approachable now than he had been on Saint Marie – maybe because he didn't feel so outlandish here on his home turf – but that still didn't mean he was easy to handle. He had been friendly towards her, but also a little distant at times – except for Friday evening, when they had sat together in the pub and walked to the station afterwards. He had been perfectly amicable then.

She had been reminded of how he had solved the case of Delilah Dunham's murder – and how the entire team, including the Commissioner, plus a few more people, had gathered at La Kaz and enjoyed a fabulous dinner together. That had been the first time she had seen him relaxed and at ease… he had made jokes, talked with everyone, and just enjoyed himself…

She still was somewhat hesitant to bring up situations that they had experienced together on Saint Marie – she wasn't sure how he'd react. Neither of them had even grazed the subject of their goodbye yet… She was wondering what would happen if they ever got to that point. So, she had not dared alluding to Saint Marie all too clearly in general.

But after he had got up from his chair when she had referred to the evening when he had tried to show her who was boss by turning her down, she had felt a bit safer. She had been worried he'd clam up and hide behind the buttoned-up demeanour she knew so well, but in that situation, it had been a risk she had needed to take.

He had looked at her with an enigmatic expression on his face, there had been a gleam in his amazingly green eyes that had made them appear almost cat-like, and for a moment she had thought time had stood still – then he had got up and said – in his own starchy manner, but with a hint of humour in his eyes – "Well, if you insist like this, Sergeant Bordey… how could I let this chance slip by?"

She had felt her knees turning to jelly when he'd looked into her eyes – and she had struggled a little to keep her cool.

She had realised that while they both still had the same basic personality, they had changed to a certain extent, and maybe that was their chance… they were different people now, but they still knew each other well… He had lived his life and made his experiences… and since he had left, he had undergone developments and changes that she had no idea about – just like she had made her experiences… Working with Humphrey had indeed changed her attitude to some degree – she had learnt things about herself that she hadn't been aware of, and when Fidel had left, the dynamics in the team had shifted again while the outer circumstances had appeared to remain the same. She realised that it had been a valuable experience altogether, but she was glad that she had left it all behind.

During the evening in the pub, Sarah Collins had asked her if she considered returning to Saint Marie after her exams, and much to her own surprise, Camille had hesitated to answer. She just wasn't sure. She had felt Richard's eyes on her as she had finally responded "Well, at the moment the DI position is taken, so I would have to return to my old position – which is taken, too. I have no idea how things are going to develop over there – you know how it is. Having said that – I wouldn't say no if I got a good offer, but I don't see that happening. So it's not so much a question of what I want, but more one of what I can get. When I left, I was well aware of this. The local Commissioner has assured me that there'll always be a place for me on Saint Marie, but even he can't conjure a job out of the hat for me, if you know what I mean. He might try and draw strings for me, but I'm not entitled to get my old job back so I'm not counting on anything there. I think I'll just wait and see. What about you, Stephen," – she had turned to the other intern – "do you think you'll return to your old station?"

Stephen had shrugged and said "We'll see. I know I would get my old job back and have to apply for a promotion if something suitable came up. I know there are a few people considering retirement, but of course, there are others lined up who might want to apply – you never know. At the moment, I'd say I'd go back if given the chance, but ask me again in a few months, and I may say something else…"

They had all laughed. Stephen was quite philosophical and detached about the whole thing. He seemed to feel that way about many things in life – he had a good sense of humour and liked to laugh about whatever came his way. That didn't mean he wasn't ambitious or serious about life – or that he wouldn't take influence, when possible – he just claimed that life was serious enough already and that you didn't make it any better by worrying about things. "Don't sweat the small stuff" seemed to be his motto, and he appeared to live quite well with this philosophy.

Sarah Collins admired him for his attitude. She would have liked him to notice her a bit more, but from what she had gathered, he didn't care about her… Maybe he thought she was too young for him – he was in his mid 30s. A few times she had seemed to notice how his eyes had rested longer than necessary on Camille, but maybe that had only been stupid jealousy and selective perception… And truth be told, Camille didn't show any particular interest in him, despite her sometimes rather flirtatious ways she showed no preference for any of the men in the team… It was interesting how she seemed so approachable, yet actually was very aloof. She never allowed anyone to get close to her.

It had been remarkable to see her interact with the Chief – it was obvious that they shared a common history. They seemed to follow a certain ritual – and a secret code - in their communication. A couple of times, Camille had rolled her eyes at him, and DCI Poole had responded in the most fustian, bombastic manner that he could possibly muster up – even for his standards, it seemed overinflated. A couple of times, when Camille had made an unorthodox suggestion, Poole had merely raised his eyebrows – while he would have dismissed the same suggestion from others without further ado. It was obvious that he trusted Camille's judgement. Mostly, at least – there were exceptions, of course, but it was quite clear that he relied on her.

A scarcely perceptible nod from her side, an arched eyebrow from his, a half sentence here or there, and a strategy was decided without anybody else in the team knowing how it had happened. They'd only worked together on few cases because DI Fryer was in charge of the interns, but it was remarkable how efficient their cooperation was. Collins had witnessed an interrogation they had done together, and that had been an eye-opening experience. They were a marvellous team – despite being so different in many ways. But then again, maybe that was why they worked together so well – each of them compensated for the other's shortcomings.

Despite the arguments they sometimes had, Collins felt that there was genuine affection between these two – and their interaction definitely made work a lot more interesting. They were really entertaining, without being aware of it – and she was actually pleased to see DCI Poole coming out of his shell a bit more often now.

Stephen's response to her question had made Camille realise how differently people approached life – and how one's approach could change, depending on circumstances. Nothing was set in stone… She had been career driven when she had finished her training in France and gone undercover, but then her 'career' had been thwarted when Richard had arrested her all those years back… Living on Saint Marie again had changed her view, and while she had been keen on doing a good job, she hadn't really cared for climbing the career ladder. After Richard's departure, she had happily continued to work in her position, but little by little, she had felt stalled – and now her goal was finishing this course and sitting the exams, but beyond that, she had decided not to sweat it. Things would fall into place somehow, one way or the other.

She realised that – while she still struggled a little with the climate and felt lonely sometimes – she wasn't entirely averse to living in the UK. She had always thought France was more fun, but now – despite all the puzzling customs and traditions around here - she was discovering numerous things in the UK that she quite liked, too, so she noted with some dismay that she had perhaps just been as ignorant as Richard when he had lived on Saint Marie… He had always praised the UK, and she had always praised Saint Marie and France – but at the end of the day, neither of them had ever lived in other places for an extended period of time, so it had been a case of the pot calling the kettle black. They had been foolish… in so many ways…

But they had been given a second chance – and she was determined to make the most of it.

The weeks went by, and finally it was time for Camille to move into her new place. It was a fairly small flat, but big enough for a single person – there was a small living room with a dining space and a sitting area, an even smaller bedroom and a tiny kitchen, plus a teeny-weeny bathroom. However, the little space that was there was indeed used optimally. There were built-in cabinets everywhere, and that made everything much easier. The place came furnished – everything was very functional and practical.

She was particularly pleased with the very useful bed-sofa in the living room and the built-in cabinets and closet space everywhere. The bed was okay, but given the size of the room, it had to be small… it wasn't even what Camille knew as a 'grand lit' from France. When she described it to Sarah Collins, she exclaimed "Oh, a small double…"

Camille thought that calling a bed that was only about 120 cm wide would hardly be called a 'double' in France, but well… obviously, the English had a different idea. Since she was on her own, anyway, it was okay for her, but it could hardly be described as luxurious. At least, the bed-sofa – that could be folded out to a whopping 160 cm in width - would enable her to have overnight visitors – she was considering asking Isabelle and Alain if they wanted to spend a few days with her some time, perhaps in the spring.

Camille got the keys to the place a little earlier than anticipated, so she moved 'in instalments'. For a week, she came to work with a big tote bag every day and then went to her new flat afterwards where she stored away the contents and went back to her room in the guesthouse. It was a bit tiring and made for long days, but it wouldn't last forever, so she was fine with it.

Eventually, she came to work on a Friday, bringing along her suitcase. Richard saw her rolling it into the office and asked with an amused smile "Are you moving to the station over the weekend?"

She rolled her eyes and said "Mind you, I have been tempted a couple of times already! But no… I'll move into my new flat for good this weekend, however, this is going to be my first night there. I'll just go to tie up the last loose ends tomorrow in the afternoon and return the keys then. Not one moment too early – I tell you, my neighbour apparently fell asleep with the television on yesterday night, and it was horribly noisy! Not to mention the party that someone had the other night…"

Richard looked at the suitcase again and asked "Where are you going to park this monster? You cannot possibly keep it here; it's taking up too much space…" On an impulse, he opened the door to his office and said "Put it in here. It's quite safe with me, I promise…"

Camille gave him a grateful smile, but couldn't help but saying with a twinkle in her eyes "I know… I can trust you; you're not going to dig into my bras and knickers up to your elbows."

She half expected him to turn scarlet and stutter an incoherent reply, but much to her surprise, that didn't happen. He did blush, but strikingly enough, he also raised his eyebrows and responded deadpan "What makes you so sure I don't have an underwear fetish, Camille? Appearances can be deceptive, as you know… Lacy bras might be my favourites, along with skimpy bikini tops… Haven't you heard that still waters run deep?"

She felt the blood rising in her cheeks at this remark that clearly was a hardly veiled innuendo – or so it seemed to her – and she just managed to suppress a little gasp of amazement. Much to her frustration, she couldn't think of a suitable repartee, so she just passed him an enigmatic sideways glance – but she knew that he knew that he had startled her… she could see it in his smug smile. Oh, how annoying! By the same token, it was kind of fun, and it reminded her of the old days, back on Saint Marie…

Camille got accustomed to her new place rather quickly. It was a nice little flat, and the infrastructure was good, too. She had a little supermarket nearby, and all relevant amenities were within walking distance. There was a bus stop, the tube station and a newsstand close to where she lived, plus some restaurants, bistros and a little park.

When she had moved in, she had been thinking about having a housewarming party – but then she decided against it. This was not the Caribbean where people could spread out all over the beach during a party or go out into the street when it got too crowded. It would be too crammed in the flat, and to be quite honest, she didn't really feel close enough to anybody in the team to want them in her home – they all were nice, but there wasn't a close tie between them all, like it had been on Saint Marie where the team members had been real friends.

The only exception was Richard – but then, of course, she had known him for years already, and he was certainly special.

Camille found it hard to believe that she'd only be at the station for another few weeks, then her Christmas break would start – that she would mostly spend in France, with Isabelle and Alain - and after that, the new module at the training centre would begin…

She was beginning to panic a little – time had just kind of slipped away, and she still hadn't come any further with Richard.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. The past weeks had gone fairly well – they had had a few arguments about little details, but he had gone to lunch with her and the team once, and she had kept him company a few times when he had eaten lunch in the little staffroom next to the tea kitchen. He had had a sandwich, and she had brought a salad – she had mentioned she couldn't go out for lunch literally every day as it was just too expensive, and he had nodded understandingly, making a remark about some shops ripping people off. They hadn't talked much, but neither of them had felt compelled to talk - the silence hadn't been embarrassing. He had also clearly made more of an effort to be sociable – he had stopped to talk to people when he was on the way to the tea kitchen, and he had brought her a mug of coffee a few times – always making sure that Sarah Collins, Stephen or DI Fryer got one, too, so it wasn't that he had singled her out all too obviously.

But that was not what she wanted – she wanted more. This was all moving at a snail's pace, and they were running out of time.

So, what to do? As she put on her fleece pyjamas one evening and hustled a hot water bottle under her duvet to keep her company in bed, she decided that she needed a plan. She had to show him more clearly that she wanted them to be closer – he had sent a few signals that could only mean that he was interested, too, but it had been a classical Richard Poole scenario with going two steps forward and one back… she knew that he still was unassertive when it came to women, and she realised that she'd have to give him a push. Otherwise they'd never get anywhere. He was confident in his job, but although his social skills had generally got better, there was still room for improvement…

She definitely had to come up with a battle plan that couldn't possibly fail. And as she went through her bedtime routine one evening and finally cuddled up in bed with the hot water bottle, an idea began to take shape in her head…

The next day was a Thursday. Richard was about to leave the station for lunch when Camille approached him in the corridor and asked "Do you have a minute, Richard?"

"Yes, sure, Camille… what's the matter?"

"Excuse me…" Superintendent Morris passed them, giving them a curious glance and slowing down his step a little so he could perhaps eavesdrop, and Camille smiled sweetly in his direction, then turned to Richard again and hissed "Not here". Loudly she said "Right… enjoy your lunch then, sir…"

With that, she went casually into the tea kitchen, and Morris – disappointed that there wasn't more to see or hear – left the premises – not without turning his head once more, hoping to get a clue about what was going on.

But his DCI was still standing in the same spot, resembling a menhir, and looking at his suit's sleeve, removing a tiny little bit of dust from it… Exasperatedly, Morris finally turned to go. There was something going on here, that much was clear. He had observed them to a certain extent, but he just couldn't figure out how close they really were. Not that it was any of his business, but well… admittedly, he was curious. Sometimes it seemed that they were more than just well acquainted, but then again, they had very heated arguments, too, and it was hard to figure out where they stood with one another.

Sergeant Bordey had turned out to be a real asset to the department – although she sometimes could be a bit temperamental – which Morris didn't really fancy all that much, and it struck him how well Poole seemed to deal with it. That was amazing, considering his general people skills – or lack thereof.

He had also noticed that while Camille was always friendly, quick with a joke and ready to laugh, it was hard to find out anything personal about her – she usually stuck to general statements and didn't reveal too much about her life. Come to think about it, she resembled Poole in that aspect…

Poole was an excellent detective, and he was glad to have him in his department, but he was incredibly starchy and almost pathologically obsessed with his privacy… You hardly ever heard anything about his weekend activities, and little was known about his life in general, apart from what you could find in his file. Sometimes he wondered if Poole maybe had a behavioural disorder…

When Richard was sure that his supervisor had at least reached the ground floor of the building, he turned and approached the tea kitchen – at a measured step.

Camille was standing by the fridge, taking out her salad. When he entered the room, she turned around and said impatiently "Finally… I thought you were nailed to the floor and you'd never come inside. Don't close the door – please leave it a little ajar. I want to be aware of who's around."

She peeked outside and said matter-of-factly "Ah, the coast is clear…"

Richard raised his eyebrows and asked, slightly stand-offishly "So, what is so compromising that you don't want it discussed in the hallway?"

Camille knew that he was confused and tried to hide this behind his stiff manners. She turned to him and said "Right… I just didn't want anybody to hear as I don't want any rumours to get started. I don't mind Morris, but he's supposed to countersign my report, if I got that right, and I'm not keen on him knowing too much about my private life. It's none of his business."

Richard's eyebrows went even higher, and a cautious look appeared in his eyes.

She laughed at his open suspicion and said "It's nothing scary or illegal, I promise. I was just wondering…"

Good grief, this was harder than she had thought. She hadn't been so hesitant and cautious on Saint Marie, but then… that had been different. However, she figured it boiled down to taking her own advice – "say it or don't say it" – so she came forward and said "Would you like to come for a little housewarming dinner to my new place on the weekend after this, on Saturday evening? I don't want to throw a big event, but having it go by unmarked seems a bit of a let-down, and so I thought I'd celebrate with someone… someone I care about."

There, she had said it. Even he couldn't be dense enough not to realise that this meant she wanted them to be more than just co-workers and casual friends.

He didn't say anything for a moment, then he replied incredulously "You mean, you'll be cooking?"

Knowing what a picky eater he was, she responded "Well, yes – I have a really good recipe for a stew… well, actually it's beef goulash, not too spicy, but still savoury… I'm fairly sure you'll like it. You liked Maman's roast beef, and I learnt my culinary skills from her, so there's hope you'll like my goulash, too. And there'll be dessert afterwards – I cannot promise anything too fancy because my kitchen equipment is a bit limited, but I'll do my best."

Camille waited, then she added "You see, I didn't think Chuck Norris needed to know that I've been feeling a little lonely and would really like to spend an evening with a friend for a change…"

Richard's lips curled in a little smile as he heard her mentioning Morris's nickname and he conceded "I can certainly see your point... Well, as far as I'm concerned, I don't think he needs to know what my plans for the weekend after this are, either. As it is, I haven't had a good traditional beef goulash in longer than I care to remember, so I'll be pleased to follow your invitation. Just let me know where and when I'm supposed to show up. I presume it's not a black tie event?"

Camille giggled now, despite her attempts to remain serious. She shook her head and confirmed "Smart casual is quite enough, sir. And the bouncer isn't too strict… so, there's no jacket required, and please leave the tie at home."

He nodded and confirmed solemnly "As you wish…" She smiled warmly, and he couldn't help it – he just had to smile back… it was one of his rare lopsided half-smiles, the kind she had seen every once in a while on Saint Marie and then here, and she was about to say something just when they heard someone coming… and the moment was gone.

"Right," he said, suddenly sobering and sounding a little embarrassed, "I guess I'll go for lunch now." She nodded quietly and said "I'll e-mail you with the address and everything..."

Richard wasn't quite sure what he had got himself into with accepting her invitation. He felt how he was beginning to feel slightly jittery about their… whatever it was, he'd call it 'relationship' for lack of a better word… She had invited him to her house, and it would be just the two of them, if he had got that correctly… Now, what was that supposed to mean?

Well, he had more than a week to figure out how to approach the situation, and her behaviour would hopefully give him a clue about her plans and intentions… Not for a single moment did he doubt that there was a plan behind her invitation. Camille always had a plan…

She had said she felt lonely – and although he had seen the twinkle in her eyes, he had also felt that she had been sincere. It was hard to imagine that someone like Camille could be lonely, but the truth was that she didn't have a network here in London, and except for the people she knew through her course and through the internship at the station, she was pretty much on her own. He certainly knew that feeling – he had been on his own all his life… well, more or less so, except for a brief period during his uni time when he had hung out with a couple of people on a regular basis. For someone like her who wasn't used to that kind of life, it surely was quite an adjustment.

When he got home that evening, he checked his pantry, found a bottle of wine – his favourite Rioja – and put it back on the winerack again so it wouldn't stand in his way. As a reminder, he wrote himself a note and fixed it to the pinboard next to the fridge – where he kept his shopping list, little notes about forthcoming appointments and events as well as snippets from newspapers and magazines that he found useful for one reason or another.

The wine had been expensive, and he had saved it for a special occasion, not exactly sure what that could be – but well, if there ever was a special occasion for him, it clearly had to be Camille's invitation, so he figured it was quite appropriate. And it was a 'neutral' gift, nothing too personal…

But wasn't it too impersonal, on the other hand? Richard figured he could always go for a compromise – he'd go to the flower shop next to the little supermarket and see what they had. Flowers never were a mistake… Too bad that he couldn't get a bougainvillea or a frangipani bush for her – he knew that she liked those, and they'd bring a little slice of Saint Marie to her new home… But they wouldn't survive in this climate, as he knew only too well.

Perhaps she'd like a potted plant? He knew they had quite a wide selection of potted plants in this flower shop – as well as pretty cachepots. Maybe there'd even be some half-priced pots, so he could splurge on the plant and save on the pot? That would certainly look more impressive and appear more generous… Not that he was stingy, but he wanted good value for his money. Although… maybe the shop only claimed that the pots were half-priced? It was perhaps all a big conspiracy – he had always been a little suspicious about the concept of discounts and rebates…

Well, he'd see…

He decided that there was time enough to think about it. Maybe he'd have an idea during his run on Saturday – provided the weather was stable, he intended to explore a particular area of a park that he had run at before…