Chapter 10- Dinner at Camille's

Camille peeked into the casserole on the stove where the meat was simmering. It was perfect – and she hoped Richard would like it. She had been debating with herself whether she should rather go for rice, potatoes or dumplings along with the goulash and then had decided for the latter – it was no issue for her to prepare the dumplings, and it was more 'authentic', as she had read in the recipe. Her mother had got it from a friend many years ago. They had trained in the same restaurant, and her friend had Austrian roots, so this was actually an old family recipe. She had also prepared a tossed salad as a side dish – the recipe had recommended red cabbage, but that sounded odd to her, and she felt you couldn't go wrong with a salad.

A mini bottle of prosecco was waiting in her fridge, along with a small bottle of homemade elderberry liqueur, a housewarming gift from her neighbour. According to him, a tablespoon of the liqueur, mixed with prosecco, the faintest hint of lime juice and some mineral water would make a good aperitif. It was more common to have it in summer, but Camille felt that it was just as nice in winter! She had tried it the evening before and had been pleasantly surprised by the taste. She had even got a little mint plant in the supermarket for the decorative effect of having mint leaves in the cocktail.

Even though Richard didn't like lime (right… he hated lime!), he would surely not mind it in this combination. Camille was convinced that he wouldn't even notice that there was lime in it – it was really just a tiny trace of it, and it didn't come out at all. It just added to the drink in the combination of ingredients, and leaving it out made it appear dull. And if he noticed and felt provoked, she could always say that it had been for old times sake and that she had wanted to find out if his taste had maybe changed. She wanted this evening to turn out well, but she didn't want to appear desperate, all too ready to comply with all his idiosyncrasies and quirks. She knew that she'd have to make compromises, but he should also see that she was no doormat and he'd have to make an effort, too. She was quite sure he wouldn't blow up at her – even he wouldn't do that to her in her own home…

She had also prepared a rich chocolate blancmange, with banana slices as a surprise at the bottom of the dessert bowls … It was pointless to buy tons of different fruit for a salad as she'd have too many leftovers, and at this time of the year, it wasn't so easy to find good fruit, anyway, without spending a fortune, so she had decided to go for something that would suit his sweet tooth, but wouldn't be too extravagant. Hopefully, he'd like it… She whipped some cream, put it into the fridge and finally looked around.

Everything was just the way she wanted it… the sofa looked inviting, though not provocatively so, the armchair looked comfortable, the tiny coffee table was tidy. The small dining table was set with a dark green tablecloth and colourful paper napkins; she had put several tea lights on the coffee table and the window sill (safely placed in appropriate holders, of course) – next to the small cactus that her neighbour had brought along with the elderberry liqueur.

Right… now she only had to get changed. She knew that Richard wouldn't wear a suit and tie tonight as she had asked him to dress informally, but she figured she'd be on the safe side if she wore something smarter than jeans and a simple casual blouse or sweatshirt. So, she got into black chinos and a wine-red cotton blouse – she rolled up the sleeves to make it look a little less formal, and the top buttons were open so the neckline of her black camisole was visible. Along with that, she wore simple gold studs and an unostentatious golden necklace with a small anchor-shaped pendant. It wasn't anything overly expensive, yet it looked elegant and refined on her. She loved this little pendant that her mother had given her when she had left for her training in France all those years ago – it was a traditional symbol for hope, as Catherine had explained, but it was also supposed to remind her of home and the safe harbour she'd always have there.

She had just finished brushing her hair when the doorbell rang. He was so predictable – she had said he should show up between 7.30 and 8 – and it was 7.45 now. She checked the intercom, just to make sure it was really him, and a few moments after she had opened the door to the house, she heard him coming up the steps. Her stomach flipped when she saw him through the peephole, there at her flat door, nervously smoothing his hair before pressing the bell next to her door. She didn't open immediately, but let a few seconds pass – not because she wanted to keep him waiting, but because she felt she needed a moment to regain her inner poise.

Of course, the first few minutes were a little awkward. Richard clearly wasn't used to this kind of scenario, but Camille pretended not to notice it and hoped he'd feel comfortable fairly quickly. The truth was that she also was a little nervous – she hadn't invited a man to her home in ages, after all – the last time had been when she had lived in France, and that had been different – they had been friends, and it had been a 'thank you' because said man had helped her with something important, and there hadn't been any hidden agenda or romantic interest on either side.

During her time on Saint Marie, she had only met up with men in 'neutral' places – in bars, on the beach or in restaurants. Not that she had had an awful lot of dates – many men had been discouraged by her self-confident behaviour, and after the first date, usually no further dates had followed. She hadn't been unhappy about that – it wasn't that she hadn't enjoyed the company of the men she had met; it was more that she didn't see herself fitting into the picture of the future that they had painted.

Fortunately, Richard began to feel more at ease after a little while. He had handed her a gift bag with a bottle of wine, pointing out that he had wanted to contribute to the meal, and while she had taken the bottle out of the package, admiring the label and smiling as she remembered how he had compared her to a mature Rioja so many moons ago and how she had thought he had called her 'old', he had put the other bag on the sideboard and taken out a potted plant, carefully wrapped in several layers of paper. He removed the wrapping paper, and out came a wonderful white orchid that he presented her, saying "I didn't want to come empty-handed to your new place, but wasn't sure what you needed for the household, and then I figured flowers are never a mistake, so… I got this for you…"

Camille was touched – she recalled how he had given her flowers at another time… it almost seemed now like that had been in another life, actually. She took the orchid from him, leant over and kissed him on the cheek, saying softly "How thoughtful of you, Richard – thank you so much!"

She admired it properly then, noticing that he had also invested in a pretty white cachepot. He said a little awkwardly "I hope you like that pot. Since I didn't know anything about the colours in your home, I went for white as that goes with literally any other colour. The only other option was brown, and that looked a bit sad. In any case, the orchid should do fine if you place it by the window. I thought it might – it might remind you of home and brighten up the dreariness around here – obviously, I couldn't get a frangipani bush for you! There's also a little note in the pot regarding the care, but I'm not sure how detailed it is…"

"I'll have to check how to take care of it – it's so beautiful, I don't want to make a mistake with it… It definitely looks more impressive than my only other house plant… look, my next door neighbour gave me a cactus! And he doesn't even know me yet – he has no idea how appropriate his gift is…"

Camille laughed. Noticing Richard's slightly quizzical glance, she added with an impish smile "For the records, he's gay. Lovely man, but slightly exalted, if you ask me. Gave me a lecture on how to look after the cactus – I hope it will survive, otherwise he'll be 'deeply disappointed', as he announced…"

Richard had taken off his coat in the meantime, and Camille gave him a hanger, pointing at the coat rack in a corner of her very tiny hallway. As he put the outer garment away, she looked surreptitiously at him, checking out his outfit – he wore dark blue slacks along with a light blue shirt and a heather grey cashmere cardigan – she was surprised to see him wearing something so pricey. She wouldn't have thought he'd be willing to spend more than average on clothing. "That's a nice cardigan," she said casually, hoping she'd find out something about it – and indeed, his eyes lit up – obviously he was pleased with the compliment - and he said "Yes, isn't it – my mother gave it to me for my last birthday. It seems she realised I have quite enough shirts, socks and ties by now, so it was time for something else… I may get a few more cardigans and jumpers in the future…"

She chuckled, remembering how he had grumbled a little when the birthday package he had received years ago on Saint Marie had contained a shirt, a set of socks and a tie… all of which he had more than enough, as everybody knew. But then again, it wasn't easy to find gifts for him as he was so picky with everything and didn't seem to have any particular hobbies and interests – or at least none that his parents could relate to.

After the initial self-consciousness on both sides was overcome, Camille came up with the aperitif – and much to her delight, Richard didn't hate it. He did notice that there was a hint of lime in it, but in combination with the elderberry liqueur he didn't mind.

"Mind you," he said, "I might hate lime per se, but in this combination, it's actually quite good. Just shows that you shouldn't be too categorical about things, I suppose!"

Camille had to hide her amusement – he was learning, after all: he was clearly trying to be amenable and pleasant. On Saint Marie he would never have given her the satsifaction of openly liking anything with lime in it! She interpreted that as a good sign…

He also liked her goulash and praised it generously, and he loved the chocolate blancmange. The bananas had the desired effect – he was surprised and delighted. She was happy to see that he still loved bananas!

Camille was very pleased with herself. She had to admit, though, that the wine he had brought also was delicious… He had clearly not taken the cheapest bottle of the rack!

Richard looked around and asked "So this is your new flat?" She nodded and said "Before you ask – it came furnished, and yes, it's pretty obvious that the owners have a preference for a certain Swedish furniture store… but I don't mind. I think the only piece of furniture they didn't buy there is the bed. It's smaller than the usual double they sell, but wider than the regular single. Quite weird, and it's a bit awkward when it comes to bed linen, but I'm not bothered – I found two fitted sheets that I can put on in turns, and apart from that, I just use standard size stuff."

He blushed as he heard her mentioning the bed – that was something he didn't want to think of at the moment… if at all, actually. It made him nervous.

Camille didn't seem to notice – she got up and took the dishes to the sink. As she turned around, she asked "Want to move over to the sitting area? That's a bit more comfortable than the dinner table, I'd think."

He took his glass, and Camille asked him to sit down on the sofa while she'd go and wash her hands.

She wondered how she could make him understand that she wanted more from him than just friendship… She didn't want to be too straightforward, but by the same token, she had to be clear about it… She sighed a little – he was a lot better than he had been, but still, it was difficult with him. You had to tread lightly so he wouldn't run away. And of course, they needed to talk about a few things… how would he take her attempts to clarify the issues she had been wondering about?

Of course, she knew that nothing overly 'physical' would happen tonight – well, at least they wouldn't make out on the carpet or do something outrageous in that vein. He was far too afraid of anything that would go beyond cuddling at this point – and it wouldn't be a good idea, anyway, given the fact that they worked together… However, cuddling sounded good to her, and she hoped that at least they'd get to the stage where they might kiss – that would be a good start, wouldn't it…

She was a little concerned, though - she had noticed his edginess, and although he had got more comfortable during dinner, she realised that he was seriously out of practice when it came to spending time with a woman – well, that implied he had ever been 'in practice', and she had her doubts about that… There was a tension about him that indicated that his feelings for her were similar to how she felt about him – and that showed that – while he was willing to play along to a certain degree – he was scared of what might come out of tonight.

When she came back, she found him sitting on the sofa, leafing through one of the travel magazines she kept on a side table. She had bought it because it featured a special about Paris. There also were articles about India, Australia and Scandinavia – all places she was fascinated with for different reasons. He held up the magazine to her, pointing at a picture of a beach in Goa, and said "Now, that looks pretty much like Saint Marie, doesn't it?"

She was surprised that he spoke about Saint Marie – she had been fairly cautious not to touch the subject too frequently, but this gave her a good opening, and she replied "Yes, doesn't it? Still, it's different… I mean, look at the people and how they are dressed…"

She dimmed the light and lit the candles before she plopped into the armchair – she wanted to be near him, but then again… she didn't want to frighten him, and maybe she could move over to the sofa eventually when the time was right…

The half dark room with the discreet light coming mainly from the candles created a cosy, relaxed atmosphere, and very quickly, they were engaged in a conversation about travelling in general (and he pointed out that his parents had been bitten by the travel bug ever since they had come to Saint Marie), the UK and the Commonwealth, the Caribbean… and finally memories of Saint Marie. They reminisced about old cases, and she wound him up about how uptight he had been in some situations, reminded him of their encounter with the butler in the case of the bride who had fallen out of the hotel window, and teased him about Megan Talbot.

"Mind you, she really made sheep's eyes at you," Camille remarked with a snigger. "Yeah, I know," he said – and then he added "But it was all out of wanting to manipulate me, as I found out rather quickly… It was a little too obvious, mind you…"

She smiled, and after a little pause, she asked hesitantly "Do you ever miss it?"

"What – being manipulated?" he asked back and added immediately "I still get plenty of attempts in that vein, you know, though not quite in the same way..."

She rolled her eyes at him and giggled a little. "Oh, you're impossible… No, I mean, do you miss Saint Marie? Obviously, you had issues with the climate and the sand and the wildlife… but still… do you miss it, sometimes?"

He took a sip of wine and said thoughtfully "You know, Camille, strangely enough, I do. I do miss the sound of the waves, and I miss Harry… and other… things. But I'm here now… so it's pointless to dwell on it, isn't it?"

She looked down on her hands for a moment. Then her head went up again, and she said softly, looking straight into his eyes "Yes, you are here now… And so am I." For a moment, she thought she had noticed there was a little flicker in his eyes, a hint of an emotion she couldn't quite pinpoint, but then she dismissed the thought.

Then she continued "You know… what I've been asking myself all this time, Richard… I've been wondering… did you find peace of mind… without me?"

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. This conversation was getting dangerous… He didn't really want to talk about this, but by the same token, he knew that they had to sort this out somehow. He put his wine glass back on the table, carefully making sure that it was set down on the little napkin that she had placed there instead of a coaster, and took a deep breath before he confessed "Not really. I would have thought I could, but it didn't work the way I had anticipated. But in my defence I have to say that – at the time - I really believed it was better to go. I felt I was in a dead end on Saint Marie, and there were so many factors that made me doubt I was in the right place. It was unbelievably satisfying in regard to work – and I've learnt a lot on Saint Marie… about myself, about team spirit, about… about people. It might not appear that way, but I've found all that very rewarding and useful. But I wasn't well a lot of the time, physically, I mean, and I felt I didn't belong there. Of course, having said that… I don't belong anywhere, do I… It's just that here I can at least pretend to fit in, and I felt that in the UK I would be…" – he faltered, and Camille finished the sentence for him by asking "… safer?"

He nodded quietly, his eyes cast down. It was silent for a moment. Would she laugh at him now?

Camille put down her glass and got up to move over to the sofa. It was time for a confession…

She kneeled next to him, so she could look into his face, and said haltingly "I've often wondered how you've been faring since you left. And I've got to tell you something… I was devastated when you left, you know… Actually, I cried my eyes out over your transfer…"

His head jolted up and he looked at her incredulously.

She continued "Remember how you said I'd be better off without you? Well, I was definitely not better off without you… I was determined to forget you, but I couldn't. Then I e-mailed you, and you replied in such a cold way that I kind of gave up – but it didn't work. I tried to deny it, but I missed you. Every single day. Nothing was the same any more. I didn't mind your successor, Humphrey is a good fellow, he's friendly and empathic and funny, and he's a brilliant detective… but it wasn't the same any more. Working with you – being with you - was so much more rewarding. And I missed our interaction, I missed our tiffs, I missed our banter… I missed you… It was difficult. I didn't want to miss you, but I did… oh, so much! It just didn't stop, although I tried to ignore it. I tried to close that chapter, but it just didn't work out. I know it sounds sentimental, but I couldn't forget you – and I was upset because apparently you had forgotten me, and I couldn't do the same thing. Eventually, I realised I wanted to leave – I wanted to move on, and I didn't really have any good reasons for staying. Like you, I felt I was in a dead end. I almost took on undercover work again – in France – but then the Commissioner came up with this course, and I came here."

She drew in a deep breath and continued "I was excited, it's something new, and I enjoy it – most of the time. During the first module, I realised how much I had learnt from you – and how much I had already forgotten again because Humphrey hadn't put any pressure on me to follow the correct procedures in every situation. I've also realised what it's like to live in a completely foreign country – I had always thought I knew because I had lived in France, but I had not realised that I was familiar with the cultural background there because of my mother and the lifestyle on Saint Marie – which still is full of French traditions. That makes a huge difference. I've met people, and I wouldn't say I'm deeply lonely, but there are times when I… when I feel that nobody can relate to my background… I think… I think I understand you better now. And the past weeks at the station have been fun… it's been good working with a team again – and with you. I had deliberately not tried to find you, but I had kind of hoped to see you again when I moved to the UK, though I hadn't expected it to happen so soon and under these circumstances… And while I was annoyed at first that I was supposed to be your trainee, I have to say you did a nice job in turning that awkward situation around and coming up with a much better way of handling it…"

She smiled now. His eyes got wider and wider as he listened to her confession – this was almost getting a little overpowering...

She moved closer yet – he got more nervous as he could almost feel her breath on his face when she said very softly "I want you to know, Richard, that I might see some things differently now… compared to how I saw them back on Saint Marie… but my feelings for you…" – she noticed how he got clearly flustered now and didn't quite know where to look and what to do with his hands – "my feelings for you haven't changed… or rather… they have changed… they've become deeper…"

She could see how it started to dawn on him what she was trying to say and what she was up to, how a certain gleam suddenly appeared in his eyes, disappearing again when some unknown thought or feeling came up, how his hands were restlessly sliding over his thighs, clinging to the material of his trousers, making a feeble attempt at keeping still… she would have laughed if she had been a spectator, but since she was actively involved, it didn't occur to her that his behaviour could be perceived as funny.

He seemed to realise that she expected him to say something now, so he shifted a little, cleared his throat and said hoarsely "Um…"

Then he fell silent again, helplessly looking into her eyes, not knowing what to do. She came even closer and whispered "Did you miss me, too? At least a little bit? You know, you could tell me now… if not with words, then… I also understand body language, as you know…"

He almost forgot his self-doubts and his worries as he looked into her eyes – but there was still a hint of insecurity and hesitation in his movements when his hands slowly slid up her arms. He didn't dare and pull her towards him, it was more that she fell into his arms, and this finally did the trick – he caught her, his grip tightened around her, and then she felt his lips on hers. She moved to straddle him, her lips opened, and she felt his coming apart, too – and in an instant they were transported back in time, to the moment in his shack when she had kissed him goodbye.

Oh, it felt so good… There was the same longing, the same hunger, the same passion.

But something was different: There was much more sweetness in their kiss this time – and no despair… She felt his hands roaming over her back; one of them was finding its way under her blouse, stroking her flank and making her shiver. For long moments, they stayed like this – in each other's arms, kissing, exploring one another slowly and tenderly, cuddling and stroking each other. As passionate as their initial kiss had been - he was sweet, almost innocent in his shyness to touch her. Camille knew exactly that he felt unsure about the situation, but he obviously wanted this too much to pull back.

Her fingers slipped into the open collar of his shirt, caressing his nape, moving up to his hair, back to his shoulders, down his upper arms; slowly she began disentangling herself from him. He seemed a little surprised, but let her move freely, resting his hands on her thighs. It was obvious that he wanted her to lead the way, so she opened her blouse, and with an encouraging glance she took his hands and placed them on her breasts. His eyes widened, and for a moment he seemed unable to move. She sighed and whispered "You can stop ogling now, Richard, you're allowed to touch me…"

Almost automatically, he answered "I do not ogle, Camille…" His voice sounded slightly strained, and she gave a choked giggle before whispering "Oh, shut up, Richard… just feel me…"

"Really, Camille… one moment you want me to say something, then again…"

His voice trailed off.

Camille felt his insecurity – he wanted to cover it up with flippancy, but it didn't work in this situation.

Her splayed hands covered his, she moved her fingers and palms, showing him what she wanted. The inviting smile on her face convinced him that she was serious, and tentatively, he began fondling and kneading her breasts lightly and let his thumbs brush over her erect nipples, hidden under the camisole that she wore. She let out a little moan as she felt them getting even harder under his touch and bent down to kiss him again, cupping his face with her hands and teasing his tongue with hers. She moved closer yet, her hair fell over his face, tickling him gently, her breath quickened as he responded ardently to her kiss, and she felt a sudden wave of pure lust washing over her. She also felt his body reacting to hers, and she was sorely tempted to push down the last fences between them and make him understand just how deep her desire to be with him really was…

However, Camille also realised that Richard was totally floored with this development, and although she knew that she could seduce him here and now, she realised that it could easily taint their relationship if they went too far too quickly. She knew precisely how important it was for him to be in control, and if she pushed too far, he'd perhaps blame her for steamrollering him later on…

No, she didn't want them to get to the point of no return and have regrets afterwards – so they'd better take it slowly and let him decide when the time was right. He wasn't there yet, and in fact, she wasn't, either…

So, after a few more moments of pure bliss, she tore herself away from him and sat back, her knees right next to his thighs, her heels on the same level as his knees. They were both breathing heavily, and although she could see that he was disappointed that she had pulled out, there was also relief in his gaze, and she knew she had done the right thing by restraining herself.

Their eyes were locked and she said in a very low voice "It's not true that you don't belong anywhere… you could belong with me… You know what this means?"

He nodded slowly and whispered with a slightly unsteady voice "I think so, yes, and I'd love that… And it may not sound very manly, but I'm honestly a little overwhelmed…"