Hey Sly, this chapter's for you. Let's have you bouncing back, Tennis Ball!

Chapter 13

Winning Friends

Makepeace kept herself busy for the rest of the morning; there was plenty to do in Dempsey's absence including a rather delicate interview with the all too recently widowed wife of the dead diplomat. This involved an accompanying interpreter, a middle aged man with a pronounced stutter and bad breath, both factors, which to Makepeace's mind, ought to preclude him from such a career. But he seemed to give not a second thought to either affliction and she spent an hour in his presence with a strained ear and an averted face.

She was finished by 2:00pm and after going through the motions by buying herself an egg salad roll and a polystyrene cup of tea, she knew she would be spending her lunch break visiting Dempsey.

Needless to say, the snowy weather conditions proved to be a massive hindrance. The twenty minute car journey took over half an hour and she arrived at Dempsey's apartment building aggravated, on edge and just to cap it off, cold, as the car heater had been intermittently cutting out since the previous evening.

Standing before the door to his flat, she felt an inexplicable burden of nerves weighing her down.

She didn't know what sort of reception to expect from Greg, turning up like this after he had made it abundantly clear that she was surplus to requirements. Well, this time she would make it equally clear that she had every right to see Dempsey.

Throughout the morning, resentment towards Greg had been building. He didn't even know him so what the hell gave him the right to dictate like this? Annoying, mincing little usurper!

She rang the bell, leaving her finger on the button a fraction longer than was necessary.

After a minute and no response she tried again, letting it ring even longer this time. There had to be somebody at home. Even if Greg had gone out, surely Dempsey would guess it was her – who else was likely to come calling at this time of day and he couldn't be so ill he wasn't capable of answering his own front door!

Just as her finger hit the bell again, the door was yanked open sharply.

The scowl on Greg's face at sight of Makepeace was only there for a second before morphing swiftly into a bright smile - but it was ample enough time for her to read and digest.

"Hey, Harry!"

"Hello again."

The smile remained firmly fixed on Greg's face and he held just as firmly to the door, his slim body barring her entry.

"I just happened to be passing so I thought I may as well call in," Makepeace lied easily. "How are things? Any improvement?"

"He's sleeping," Greg answered rather stiltedly.

She waited for him to elaborate but there was nothing else to follow.

"And is he any better?"

"Some."

"Okaaaaay," she said with forced patience. "Can I see him please?"

"What for? He's asleep!"

Alarm bells were ringing now. Greg was being deliberately obstructive but the question was, why? Had he simply taken a dislike to Harry… or maybe a shine to Dempsey? Was that it, she wondered, did he like the idea of Dempsey and Toni being an item and he saw her as a threat to that relationship? No, surely it was exactly as Spikings had said and Greg thought Harry wanted to talk shop.

God, it all felt so odd- the fact that she was so desperately anxious to know Dempsey was okay, that it was all she could think of.

If she had to witness them together, in his bedroom and in his bed then so be it, she would have to accept that and deal with it somehow – just so long as he was okay.

But the need to know he wasn't seriously ill overrode what she acknowledged to be jealousy on her part.

Maybe it should feel as though she were sacrificing her pride; acknowledging that her feelings toward him went way beyond that superficial friendship of colleagues or even the deeper relationship of partners when for so long she had held back. But right now, her pride was intact and her only real concern was for Dempsey's welfare.

She decided the best way to handle Greg was to be up front.

Crossing her arms against her chest, she feigned a relaxed and casual stance, her weight pushing out one hip.

"Look… Greg. He's a friend. I'm here because I'm concerned about him – Ja… Jim Dempsey, not Lieutenant Dempsey."

The smile didn't slip. "I know that."

"Good. It's just that I didn't want you thinking I'm here to check up on him or badger him back to work."

"It's okay, I get it, but really, he's asleep and I don't think it'd be fair to wake him."

The more he resisted, the more determined Harry became.

"I'll wait," she told him flatly.

Now standing squarely before him, she held onto the strap of her shoulder bag as she prepared to enter the flat. She refrained from checking her wrist-watch as it crossed her mind that she and Dave were conducting an interview at 4:00pm.

Greg didn't miss a beat.

"No problem, come in."

He stood back, pulling the door wide. "I'll get us a nice hot drink and you can tell me all about yourself, at least, the few teeny-tiny details Jimmy may have left out."

He grinned at Harry who felt suddenly caught off-guard.

"I'm sorry?"

"Sure! He's always talkin' 'bout you. Says he's workin' with English aristocracy. You're a titled lady and everythin', right?"

"Well, yes but…"

Greg ushered her through to the living room and motioned her to the couch. "And they let you be a cop!"

"Why wouldn't they?" Makepeace queried, significantly unnerved by what she perceived to be his 'mood swings'.

Standing over her, smiling again, every trace of his former hostility had vanished. For the first time she studied his features carefully; the smooth, boyish complexion and bleach-blond spiky hair made it quite hard to judge his age. The bright, trendy clothing accompanied by neon and black bangles on both wrists and the studded ear made it even more so.

In appearance, he was far from threatening and yet some instinct told her he was not all he seemed.

"You got a dangerous job," Greg told her. "Just surprised they'd take that risk with you."

Makepeace realised what he was driving at then. "I'm really not anybody important. The British monarchy wouldn't fall to its' knees if I wasn't around."

"Yeah but you ain't what you English call a 'commoner', right?" Greg sat down in the chair opposite.

"Strictly speaking, that would be correct I suppose but…"

"But you go riskin' life and limb every day doin' a job that 'strictly speakin'', you don't need to be doin'."

There was a tetchy undercurrent there, wasn't there?

"We don't all want to spend our days shooting grouse and whipping stable boys, Greg," she joked a little warily. "I prefer to be self-sufficient."

"I can understand that but you don't think it's playin' at another life, one you wasn't designed for?"

Makepeace had heard this argument many times when she first joined the police although it had usually been from her peers; people with whom she had a shared background. Within the force, she had made sure that as few people as possible were privy to her distinctly advantaged background. She had discovered that as with Greg now, people could sometimes have a strange attitude towards her vocation in life.

"I was born with a title, I didn't ask for it. Everybody else gets to choose their career path and I never thought that I should be any different." Makepeace gave a small shrug to emphasize her point. "I'm not playing at anything – my life isn't a game."

"But you started out as one person and wound up another!"

"Is that such a bad thing?" Makepeace asked, "even if that were true."

"Depends on whether you're pretending to be someone you're not. Depends how far you're prepared to go to get where you wanna be…"

Greg's voice had faded and his mind seemed to have wandered as Makepeace watched his gaze drift to the middle distance.

Now more than ever she recognised that something, somewhere was amiss. She really needed to see Dempsey.

Suddenly springing up, he made her jump.

"Let's have that coffee while you're waitin'. You take cream and sugar?"