Chapter 15 – Moving forward
It was February, and Camille was looking through the notes she had made since the second module of her course had started. So far, she felt fairly confident about this section of the course. The module would officially finish in two weeks – with another set of exams during these last two weeks – starting this Thursday - just like the first module – and then she'd start her second assignment. There'd be four exams – on Thursday and Friday this week and then again on Monday and Tuesday next week. She couldn't imagine how the examiners managed to grade the exams so quickly, but by Friday next week all results should be there…
Of course, part of the exams were done by multiple choice, but there also were a couple of sections where the candidates had to write out answers in their own words, and that surely was a bit more demanding than the multiple choice parts… although, of course, there wasn't much room for interpretation. Either the candidates solved the task plausibly – or they didn't. There was a board of examiners, and there weren't really dozens of people taking the course… so somehow it worked out.
Like last time, she'd find out about which station she'd have to go to at the very last minute – together with the results of her exams. She hoped it would be Southwark or Kensington & Chelsea – both were fairly easy to reach from Stanmore, and it would be fun to work close to the city centre and have a chance to see all the famous sights on a daily basis. And of course it would sound chic to say "I work at Notting Hill station" or "I'm based in Kensington". She knew she wouldn't be assigned to Barnet again – or to Islington – that much was clear. Hopefully, she wouldn't be the only trainee – but then again, hopefully and much more importantly, she wouldn't be assigned to the same place like Stephen again.
He had become a little too 'friendly' over the past few weeks. Obviously, he was under the impression that she might be interested in him – when, in fact, he didn't have the ghost of a chance. Even if she hadn't been involved with Richard, she wouldn't have been interested because he just didn't have anything that she would have been looking for – but somehow, he wasn't able to read the signs. She was reminded of Humphrey who had misread her, too. It made her wonder a little if she was perhaps sending out ambiguous signals to people – it struck her that two men in a row seemed to misunderstand her.
Stephen's situation was a little different from Humphrey's – he had been by himself for a while, there was no failed relationship looming in the background… but like Humphrey, he felt lonely and was looking for someone to fill that void. And his eyes had fallen on her – she was a little exotic, she was lively and entertaining, and she was a little flirtatious by nature. She meant nothing deeper with that, it was just her personality – and most people understood this. Camille had had friendly relations with all team members, and she had been well-respected by both male and female colleagues. DI Fryer had engaged in friendly banter with her every once in a while, and while they had both enjoyed that, it had been clear to everyone around them that it hadn't meant anything – neither to him nor to her.
Even Richard had observed their interaction with an amused smile – after their evening out at the pub with the team, he had seen that she still knew how to fend off unwelcome advances – and he had remembered how she had behaved on Saint Marie, too. She had been friendly, a little coquettish and seemingly amicable, but when people got too close, she knew how to rebuff them, too – without coming across as rude. There always was a twinkle in her eyes when she rejected someone…
Stephen, however, had apparently misunderstood her friendliness, and he seemed to expect that – since they were in the same course and would spend more time together in the future – they could be more than colleagues or friends.
Like Humphrey, he seemed to cherish false hopes, and Camille wasn't quite sure how she could get out of this situation without causing trouble. If she was too clear in her rejection, he might spread rumours about her that could bring up all sorts of problems; if she wasn't clear enough, she'd have to deal with unwanted advances. He didn't know that she was otherwise engaged – she felt that it was none of his business, and while she didn't make any efforts to hide her relationship with Richard, she didn't exactly walk around and talk about it constantly, either. She generally tried not to talk about private matters with people in her course – except for a little chit-chat, she kept her personal matters to herself.
She figured that maybe his feelings would fizzle out if they were assigned to separate stations. Who knew what would happen during the time they'd spend there? He might meet someone he'd find more interesting – and for everyone's sake, that was what Camille hoped for. In the meantime, she'd just try to ignore his advances.
With a sigh, she tried to focus on her notes again. She was confident about the exams on Thursday and Friday, but the ones that were due early next week bothered her a little. However, she had discussed a few of the topics that might get asked with Richard, and that had been very helpful. He had pointed out a couple of things she hadn't thought of so far and helped her to get a better structure into her notes.
Gratefully, she remembered how he had spent an entire evening with her on looking through things and putting them into context. She hadn't planned to spend the evening like that – he had visited her after work, seen the notes on her table and asked her how it was all going. She had complained a little, and he had taken the time to listen and clarify the issue. Actually, he was an excellent teacher – as long as he remembered to be patient and didn't go off in a rant about something…
They had got into a serious discussion about a legal issue she had failed to understand, and he had sat down with her and started at point zero to explain what there was to know about it. He had drawn a diagramme to illustrate an example, and when he had explained the different aspects, the penny had dropped, and she had finally got the point. It had been immensely helpful.
With a smirk, she also remembered how he had not left at the usual time… Instead, he had stayed overnight – which he usually only did on weekends – and she had fallen asleep in his arms. They had found out a while ago that the sofa bed was indeed quite comfortable for two people… In the morning, she had woken up to him caressing her, and although they hadn't had much time, she hadn't been able to resist him – as a result, neither of them had had breakfast, she had arrived at her course five minutes late because she had missed her usual train, and he had only just made it to the station in time – with difficulties – because he had hurried home to change into a different outfit before work – he couldn't possibly show up in slacks and a casual shirt. It had all been worth it, though… it had been a very passionate union, and Camille had walked around with a silly grin on her face all day long.
And once again she had been thankful for having the issue of contraception out of the way – she had been touched when she had found out that Richard had stocked up on what he called 'French letters' (Camille hadn't known that anyone still used this old-fashioned notion, but you could rely on Richard for that sort of thing…) before they had actually made love for the first time, even though he hadn't known when it would happen. It had meant that he had been thoughtful and considerate, and she really appreciated his attention and preparedness. But she was glad that they didn't have to worry about this – it would have made it harder to be spontaneous. Not that it would have brought any unbearable hardships, but the coil she had been wearing for a while already had made it a lot easier.
During her training in France, one of her female colleagues had recommended that she might want to consider getting one because police officers sometimes were subjects of violence and hate crime, and there were more – or different – pitfalls for females, compared to their male colleagues. Her colleague's explanation on the topic of the coil had been 'even if it might not be likely that you'd get into a situation like that – that doesn't mean it can never happen. And while you cannot always prevent rape, you can avoid getting pregnant from it, if worst comes to worst', - and it had opened her eyes for something she hadn't considered before…
Camille had initially been shocked when she had heard this reasoning – but there was some truth in it, so she had seen a doctor about it fairly soon. Fortunately, she had never been in the grim situation that her colleague had circumscribed, but she had never given up on her coil – it was reassuring to know that it was there and protected her to a certain extent. She got it checked regularly, and so far, she hadn't had any nasty side effects that other women she knew had complained about. Fortunately, she had found a trustworthy and reliable doctor in the UK rather quickly when she had realised that it had been time for another check-up before Christmas…
Now that she was in a relationship, it spared her – and her partner - from having to remember purchasing and stocking up on 'local' protection on a regular basis. She knew that with Richard she didn't have to worry about other risks – he was healthy (he had medical check-ups regularly and was very careful about his health in general, and he certainly hadn't 'slept around' before their relationship had started – she hadn't even had to wonder about that, it had been clear as crystal), he wasn't a womaniser, and he was absolutely single-tracked, monogamous and faithful – that was just the way he was wired… and so was she. They had different views on a number of things, but they shared the same attitude here – and on many other essential aspects of relationships…
He had not asked any questions about how she had 'taken care of things', but when she had asked him about a safe space for her phone and jewelry for the night after their passionate unions on Christmas Eve, he had suggested the drawer of his nightstand, and she had found the little cardboard box – still wrapped and sealed in plastic foil, so she had known that it had just recently been purchased – and she had realised that she might have to explain what she had meant when she had kept him from interrupting their actions. He had been a little embarrassed initally, but after much blushing and stuttering, he had admitted that he had been wondering, but hadn't wanted to ask later on as she had appeared to be so sure of herself – and it wasn't really a topic he felt comfortable with, anyway. But they had discussed it, and Richard had seemed to be relieved that it was out of the way.
He had assured her that he wouldn't have minded to take care of things – she chuckled remembering his words - "After all, it's more my business than yours, isn't it? I mean, come to think of it, without me, you wouldn't have to worry about – er - getting pregnant…" He had a point there, but still – she hadn't met many men who would have seen it that way. In any event, it was a good thing that they had talked about it. It had felt good to know that he had been ready to 'do the responsible thing' and hadn't intended just to have fun without worrying about the possible outcome.
She and Richard hadn't hung a lantern on their relationship. They were a couple now, but it was nobody's business but their own. After their misunderstanding over Christmas had been overcome, Camille had stayed with him for a few more days before going back to her flat, and he had come over to see in the New Year with her. They had made a conscious effort to give each other time and space alone, and usually they saw each other once during the week and then every weekend.
It worked well this way as it gave Camille enough time for revising her notes and studying as well as for relaxing and having down time. Richard, by the same token, sometimes worked late and was glad that he didn't have to take her feelings into account on those days, and of course, he also needed time for himself and for unwinding. On weekends, they usually met up for walks, sightseeing, or other activities. They had also been to the pool together several times already, and Camille had been fairly impressed with Richard's athletic prowess – he might not be a second Mark Spitz or Michael Phelps, but he certainly was a good swimmer for someone in the second half of his 40s, and he didn't look all that bad in his trunks, either.
Camille had actually said as much to him – and then added that she thought he only looked better without clothes altogether… which had made Richard blush and tell her she was a teaser.
The truth was that he tried to keep in shape even more than before now because he didn't want to look too bad against all the other (younger) men she knew. Although she had emphasised that he wasn't old in her eyes, he knew only too well that there were several years between them, and while he couldn't do much about his thinning hair or his deteriorating eyesight, he could at least try to keep his body fit and somewhat attractive and do his best to look good for her. For years, he hadn't really cared much about his outer appearance – although he had always made a point of looking neat and proper, he hadn't paid attention to fashion and trends - but now that Camille was there, he felt that he had to make more of an effort.
Under Camille's influence, he had started wearing more 'fashionable' clothes, too. It wasn't all that obvious, but Camille had had a look at his wardrobe and decided that it needed a gentle makeover. She'd felt that Richard's style was slightly outdated, and while she knew that he'd never change radically – he simply was fairly conservative and liked his suits, shirts and ties – she figured he could use a couple of new things. As a result, Richard had got two new suits that weren't strikingly flashy, but more fashionable – while still being classical in their shape and cut – and she had also suggested looking for a couple of new shirts that had some fancy little details. She had also made him get two new casual shirts for evenings at home or weekend activities.
She had even managed to make him reconsider his pyjamas – while they suited him in a strange way, she had suggested that a little more variety wouldn't hurt. Initially, he hadn't been impressed with her idea and had said stubbornly that he was fine with his pyjamas and that they had done good service over many years, he was used to the style and didn't see any reason to make changes.
Her moment of glory had come when he had discovered that one of his pyjama jackets looked really shabby on the collar and sleeves, but the trousers still were fine – she had pointed out that it would be silly to get a new pyjama when only the jacket was raddled. She had suggested "Why don't you get a loose fitting Henley shirt in a matching colour? Or maybe you'll get a white or grey one – that would go with all your pyjama trousers…"
He hadn't been entirely convinced, but she had dragged him into the next best department store one Saturday, and they'd got a fine deal there – two shirts for the price of one, one was sage green, the other one was heather grey… As Camille had been well aware of his reluctance to wear the shirts on his own accord, she had washed them so he couldn't use the excuse that they were 'too new' and laid the sage one out for him next time she had come to stay with him. The colour brought out the sparkle in his eyes. Despite Camille's enthusiasm, he'd still been sceptical when he'd put it on, but Camille thought it looked great on him, particularly in combination with the green-and-blue striped trousers, and in the morning, he had admitted that it had surpassed his expectations. He had said "It's soft and smooth and a lot more comfy than I thought – that was a really good idea!"
So, little by little, Camille had taken influence, and he had got more comfortable with the idea that not everything remained the same in his house. With time, he had bought a few new kitchen appliances, Camille had convinced him to invest into new house slippers ("Look, I don't mind your leatherette slippers, but they're looking shabby at the toes and beginning to fall apart at the heel… why don't you have a look at what else is available?"), and there even had been a new electric toothbrush in the bathroom one day.
For both of them, it felt good to be in this relationship. After they had cleared their issues over Christmas, Richard had been more forthcoming and talked more about the future – and about the past. He had confessed to her that he hadn't been sure about her feelings for him back on Saint Marie and that he had been confused about the way he had felt about her – and that he had been scared. Camille had realised that on her own already, but it had done her good to hear it from him, anyway.
He had also said that he had thought that it was better to run away, but it had turned out to be an illusion that he could go back to the UK and continue to live there as if nothing had ever happened.
"I couldn't stop thinking of you," he had said as they were walking together on a muddy path in a park near his house, "and I was so angry and upset – with you, me, and everybody. And then I was hurt because after my response to your e-mail, you never e-mailed again – I thought you had filed me under 'experiences' and forgotten all about me… It took me a long time to admit to myself that I hadn't exactly given you any reason to believe that I wanted to hear from you…"
She had rolled her eyes at him and interjected "Oh, so you noticed? Hallelujah! I have said it before - I was so disgusted by your business-like reply… It made me think that you didn't want anything to do with me any more, and that Saint Marie had clearly fallen off your personal planet… I almost hated you, you know. The problem was just that I couldn't stop thinking of you… does that sound familiar? Of course, I didn't think consciously of you all the time, constantly, non-stop, but you were always there, somewhere in my thoughts. And it hurt so much… you were like a thorn in my side. I felt that I needed closure, and when I came here to the UK, I thought there's a chance our paths would cross… I didn't look for you, though, because I wanted to be done with my course before we'd meet again. When I came to Islington, I was totally shocked to find you there…"
"Tell me about it," he had replied with a crooked smile. "I thought I had just got hit by a lorry when Chuck Norris called me into his office to meet the new intern… and it was you! I wasn't sure if I was in a really amazing dream – or in a nightmare!"
She had tried to make it clear to him that she didn't want to be without him any more, and that her remark that she wanted them to 'belong together' had meant precisely that – that her home would be where his was, and if he felt he couldn't return to the Caribbean because he wasn't sure he could survive the climate there in the long run, she'd stay in the UK with him.
"I know, you said to your mum – when she was so excited about Saint Marie – that where we're from is who we are and that this defines where we belong… but don't you think we can adapt if we really want to and are with someone we… care for?"
She hadn't dared using the word 'love'… she wanted him to say it first, and surely he'd be clever enough to figure out what she was talking about…
Hastily, she had added, "And I did get used to living in France, too. I mean, I did miss the beach, the scent of the flowers, the food, the sunshine and the climate, and above all, I missed Maman, but until the offer turned up to do undercover work in the Caribbean, I hadn't had any perspective of returning to Saint Marie, and it was okay for me… so…"
He had nodded thoughtfully and taken her hand, pulling her to the right so she wouldn't end up walking right through a huge puddle on the path. With that, the conversation had turned to other topics, and when they had arrived at his house, they hadn't taken up the thread again. She had figured that it wouldn't make any sense to probe deeper – he might just need some time to let it all sink in and mull over the issue before he'd be ready to talk about it a little more.
Meanwhile, Richard was getting a little nervous. His mother had asked him when he'd come to Gloucestershire again, and she had been unusually persistent. Since their return from South America – the cruise had been a huge success, and they were already making plans for another one – he hadn't seen his parents, and he felt they were beginning to feel a little suspicious about why he had stayed away for so long.
He knew perfectly well that it was wrong to hide his relationship with Camille from his parents – but at the same time, he wasn't quite ready to talk about it at this point. He was sure that if he came out about it, his mother would only begin talking about settling down, buying a bigger house, getting married, and having children… when he was just getting used to having Camille in his life at all, being able to spend time with her, talk to her, hold her and kiss her… and whatever else there was that lovers did. It was much too early for him to discuss details they weren't sure about yet at the moment.
He hadn't forgotten their conversation during the walk they had taken recently. He had been touched by her declaration that she could 'get used' to life in the UK. She wouldn't have said it if she hadn't meant it, but he certainly was aware of how much she missed the Caribbean at times.
She had said so herself – one evening, she had wistfully remarked that she'd give anything to hear the sound of the waves lapping on the beach for a moment or to smell the scent of the plumeria bushes near her mother's bar. And seeing some colours wouldn't hurt, either… everything was so grey here in London… She knew it wasn't true, but sometimes it appeared to be that way – she had only been homesick for a moment.
He knew what she meant – while he had lived on Saint Marie, he had missed the fog and the rain, the cool rainy weather or the cool sunny weather (as long as it was cool, he was fine!), seeing the first daffodils, the rustling of fallen leaves under his feet, the crisp morning air… all the little things he loved about the UK… And of course there had been the food… he had got used to the Caribbean food with time, but he still had missed his mother's Sunday roast, his occasional 'fix' of fish and chips, and all the other typically British – or English – treats…
Her declaration during their walk must have meant that she didn't want to be without him any more. And the truth was that he didn't want to be without her any more, either. He wasn't quite sure, though, if he'd follow her literally anywhere – but then again, maybe she just meant to say that they'd find a compromise for whatever situation they might find themselves in…
It hadn't escaped him that she had avoided using the word 'love'. He remembered how they had misunderstood each other so badly over Christmas… and he concluded that maybe she'd want him to say it first. Just like he had avoided saying that he wanted her to be with him because he hadn't wanted to put pressure on her, she might now avoid talking about love because she didn't want him to feel forced into a corner and make him say something he didn't feel ready to say yet.
The thing was – he was more than ready to say it. He just didn't know how. He had thought it so often already, and he definitely felt it. But something held him back – he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. It vexed him – why couldn't he just say it?
As he stood in his bathroom one evening, brushing his teeth with his fancy new electric toothbrush (why had he resisted getting one for so long? Camille had been right when she had said it was more hygienic and generally healthier for his teeth, plus he'd like it much better than his old regular toothbrush!), looking at his reflection in the mirror and realising that – along with his blue-and-grey striped pyjama trousers - he was wearing the grey Henley shirt that she had got for him and that had become a favourite piece of nightwear in the meantime, he remembered the last time – no, the only time! - he had told a woman that he loved her…
She had smiled at him, sympathetically, and said "Thank you… that's so sweet of you… but I'm afraid I don't feel the same way about you…"
And then she had got married to someone else.
Did he perhaps have some kind of trauma because of this?
Well, that sounded like a tempting excuse, but he admitted to himself that it was rubbish. He wasn't traumatised. He was only being a coward because of this experience. This experience had held him back from talking to her about personal stuff on Saint Marie, it had held him back from telling her that he wanted her to stay with him, and it was now holding him back from saying that he loved her. Which was what he did… his feelings for her were much stronger than his feelings for 'that woman' had ever been, now that he thought about it.
He had believed in a lot of romantic nonsense back then… by now, he knew that what he had believed to be immortal love had basically been a mix of infatuation and blindness – and self-deception. He had been so wrapped up in his own little world that he hadn't seen what was going on around him, and at the end of the day, he had loved the feeling of being in love – but nothing more. He had built a castle in the air, without really knowing the person he had been dreaming of sharing it with him.
With Camille, it was decidedly different. He knew her. He trusted her. He didn't overlook her shortcomings – he was very aware of them, but although they sometimes annoyed him, he didn't really mind. They were part of who she was, after all. He didn't think she was perfect – nobody was. Perfect wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want her to change – he had no right to expect anybody to change for his sake – after all, he wouldn't like getting reformed, either (at that point, he smiled and remembered the toothbrush, the slippers, the Henley shirts, the suits and shirts… and all the other things she had smuggled into his life to make it more comfortable… but that wasn't 'being reformed', that was 'improving someone's life'…). He didn't want her any other way.
And he realised that this was actually real love… It was easy to fall in love with a fantasy image, but falling (and hopefully staying!) in love with a real person – that was something entirely different. It was so much better…
He'd tell her. Yes, he'd tell her sometime soon.
Very soon.