This is the first of the last 2 chapters of this story. I will post the last chapter later this afternoon.
Over the next couple of days, Harry was surprised at how little she saw of Dempsey. There were the odd few moments when she'd notice him from out of her window, coming and going from the house next door, or their paths had crossed briefly at the club, and another time as they had both been exiting their houses at the same time. But during none of those encounters had he really spoken more than a polite few words to her. Not that it should matter to her really. I mean, what should she have expected? They had solved the problem of the dead body in his car so…. So what now? It loomed ominously in her mind over and over again that he would be leaving for New York soon, and the more time that passed, and the more times that he seemed too preoccupied to talk to, or spend any time with her, the more upset and angry she became. She knew that she shouldn't be making such a big deal out of the whole situation, he wasn't, but she just couldn't help herself. He was going to be leaving soon, gone out of her life again, just like that; the least he could do was to spend some time with her before he went!
Then came the day when she was preparing some lunch in her kitchen, a crisp, fresh salad with roast chicken slices and a cheeky glass of champagne to go with it. She was going to take it out into the garden and enjoy the early summer sun whist she ate, after which she would finish the rest of the paperback book she'd been reading, and later, she would enjoy a leisurely bath before she headed for The Club to catch up with Eddie and the others. If she were honest with herself, she was probably trying to fill her time. After the 'Dempsey' case, Spikings hadn't phoned her for any other cases and she'd sort of been cutting down on her time spent at The Club's charity events for fear of bumping into Richie again. Then the loud knock on her door startled her. She wasn't expecting anyone.
Leaving the half washed lettuce leaves and drying her hands, she headed for her front door and opened it seconds after another loud knock. Now she had a suspicion who it might be. There was only one person she knew who had such little patience.
"Dempsey?"
"Hiya Harry," he said, leaning against the door frame casually. "You busy?"
"Err, well, not exactly, come in," she said, standing to one side to let him enter. "I was just preparing lunch actually," she said, heading back into the kitchen, followed by Dempsey. "Mind if I finish this?" she said over her shoulder.
Harry was not going to seem as if she were doing nothing all day apart from waiting for him to come knocking on her door!
"Go ahead," he replied, watching as she resumed chopping and washing the lettuce.
"How have you been?" she asked, not really knowing what else to say. I mean, she could hardly say, "I haven't seen anything of you; what the hell have you been doing over the last few days?" Could she?
"Good," he answered.
"Oh good," she replied. What? Had he suddenly lost the art of conversation, or something?
As she went on to prepare the cucumber and tomatoes, she was itching to say something more, anything to fill the silence. Then again, it was he who had come to see her. He could bloody well make the effort! She sensed him walking towards the kitchen shelves behind her then and ruffling sounds could be heard. What on earth was he doing? She didn't care; she wasn't going to turn around to see either.
"So, you been busy?" he finally got around to asking. Of all the questions to ask too!
"So, so," she replied, not wanting to commit to more. Why didn't he just get on with what he'd gone there for?
More excruciating silence ensued, along with more rustling. She would not say anything; she would not turn around!
"Harry," he said at last.
"Hmm," she responded, cutting up a tomato with minute attention to detail.
"I'm goin' back to New York tomorrow," he said simply.
Her heart sank. Fine, but she knew that would happen anyway, so what did it matter? She wasn't going to get upset about this, she just wasn't!
"Oh yes?" she said, finally turning around to face him. "I suppose it's time, now that you've cleared your name." With her help…a hell of a lot of her help actually! And a 'thank you' wouldn't go amiss either!
Well, this wasn't exactly the response he'd been hoping for. She thought he was leaving for good but he was surprised that she'd actually bothered to turn around from the chopping board!
"Yeah, couldn't have done it without you," he replied.
That was as close to a 'thank you' as she was going to get she supposed. It didn't make any difference; she hated him!
"No, you couldn't," she came back.
He stared at her for a few long moments. She stared right back. If he was going, he may as well get on with it!
"Well, I've got to eat this quickly before rushing out," she said, now getting more and more angry with him. "Have a safe trip," she said, turning her back on him again.
So that was it? That was going to be their final goodbye. He would never have realised what a cold bitch Harry really was! Why had he been so keen on staying in the UK and working for the new unit, he wondered? May as well have nothing to do with seeing Harry. He would be staying now just to bring down the Borellis, nothing more.
"Yeah, I gotto go see Doug about the house now anyway," he replied.
She didn't even see fit to respond.
Fuming with her stinking attitude, he turned on his heel, stormed across the kitchen, through the hallway and out of the front door, slamming it behind him.
She hated him! She hated him! She hated him!
"Damn you Dempsey, you bastard!" she shouted out loud, sweeping all the neatly cut cucumber and tomato pieces into the sink, and hating herself for giving into heartrending tears.
She sunk onto one of the kitchen chairs for a while, pouring out her misery over the kitchen table before moving into the lounge and curling up on the sofa, while shudders of her outburst still shook her body. Finally, a strange calmness overcame her and she lay there for a while just thinking and trying to make sense of everything. She didn't really understand all that had happened, why he was leaving so suddenly and what he had been doing over the last few days, but at last she had come to one conclusion; she had to go to see him again and say a proper goodbye. To hell with him if he was going to act like he didn't care because she had to do it for herself. Then at least she wouldn't have any regrets; at least then she would have tried.