Chapter 2

The first bit of advice Cater gave Richard made him a little uncomfortable. She insisted it wasn't lying, more omitting the truth, but he wasn't so sure. After much haranguing though he finally conceded to do things her way. Anything for a quiet life. She managed to get about 7 seconds into her second piece of advice before Richard twigged on to what she was talking about and, highly embarrassed, sent her out of his office directly. The last thing he needed was to look flustered when the Detective Superintendent was on the way. Carter shot him a cheeky grin over her shoulder as she walked away and he narrowed his eyes at her – though girl was outright insubordinate sometimes!

Brookes held out until lunchtime, which he and Carter took perched on a low wall outside in order to make the most of the sunshine, before asking, "What on earth did you say to the Chief Inspector?"

"I provided him with some advice," Carter said, choosing to be deliberately vague – much to Brookes' annoyance. He stared her down and she offered, "You know, on his love life!"

"Carter!" Brookes said on a sigh. In reality, he shouldn't have expected anything less embarrassing. "Is the poor man going to be able to look you in the face in the future?"

"Actually he cut me off pretty early on certain topics so probably, yes," she admitted. Brookes removed his yoghurt and she reached forward and snatched it from his grasp. "You should let me eat that, you haven't got a spare tie, remember?"

Brookes was pretty certain her stealing his yoghurt had less to do with her wanting to save him from a stained tie and far more to do with her just wanting his yoghurt. He let her get away with it though because if he insisted on taking the yoghurt back, it would then be inevitable that he spilt it on himself in some dramatic fashion. "Do you think they'll get on okay?" He asked eventually.

"I know they'll be just fine."

"How far is it to Clacton?" Camille asked as she climbed into the passenger seat at a ridiculous hour of the morning. She really wasn't sure why they had to leave this early, it hadn't looked that far on the road map. "My ability to judge distances is probably skewed from living on a small island."

Richard seemed to hesitate before answering, and she wondered if he actually knew the way there. Well if they got into trouble she could always try using the GPS on her phone. "We should be there just after lunch," Richard said eventually. "Best to leave early and avoiding the rush though!"

"Yes, all those Brits desperate for their weekend in a caravan," she said, sarcasm evident. She winced, she had vowed not to show her disdain for the idea because for Richard it probably counted as romantic, and at least she would be spending the weekend with him. That was what appealed, not the caravan. Richard didn't seem to have noticed, thankfully, he looked a little nervous though. Perhaps he was worried about being in a small space with her for three days. "I wouldn't have thought it would take that long," she said.

"Well, road works," he said vaguely. "Perhaps you should just go to sleep, I'll wake you when we get there."

That idea did sound quite appealing actually, but it didn't seem very nice, "Won't you get bored driving?"

"I'll be fine!" He said. "I'm quite used to driving by myself.

Well, Camille thought, if he was offering then it was an offer she would take.

Every time she woke they seemed to be on some anonymous motorway or dual carriage way. Finally, she woke and felt like she was fully awake now. Looking out of the window though she spotted a sign that puzzled her. "Richard are we following signs to 'The North'" she asked, starling him a little.

"I thought you were sleeping?" He said.

"I was, for…" she checked her phone. "3 hours. I'm no longer tired."

"Oh right, want to put something on the radio?"

"You didn't answer my question about the north," she pointed out, starting to feel a little bit suspicious.

"Clacton is north of London," Richard said.

"I looked at the map, it isn't near Manchester!" Camille said indicating the sign they were currently passing. Dear God, was he that bad at navigating?

"Oh, you are thinking of Clacton-on-sea," Richard said. "There is another Clacton further north. That is the one we are going to."

This threw her slightly, she had assumed they would be going to the first Clacton that had come up when she had borrowed his laptop to Google it (being unwilling to use her own phone due to horrendous data charges abroad). It seemed to fit the picture Richard had painted her before. It hadn't occurred to her the UK could be home to two places called Clacton, and she said as much.

"Oh it's surprisingly common," he said brightly. "There are three St Ives and seven Newcastles in the UK. I guess we aren't terribly original with place names." If there really were seven places called Newcastle in the UK, that seemed likely. Camille vowed to check that fact later.

Richard was surprised he managed to convince her they were on the way to Clacton (albeit, a very different Clacton that though north of Clacton-on-Sea, was not this far north) right until the moment they pulled into the driveway of the cottage. It was, as Carter had promised him, stupidly picturesque. All climbing roses, slate tiled roof and stone walls. He sort of expected an excited Labrador to come bounding round the corner where he had been informed there was a massive and well maintained garden. Camille stared at the cottage for a few moment before turning to him, smiling. "We are staying here?" she asked brightly.

"Yes," he told her, returning the smile. "I mean, you didn't really think I would make you stay in a caravan did you? What sort of romantic weekend away would that be?" Carter had been very insistent he act as if this whole trip had been his idea. Something he still felt uncomfortable with, even though Camille was looking terribly pleased with him right now. Or perhaps it was because Camille seemed so pleased with him when he perhaps didn't deserve it.

"So, where are we?" She asked as she climbed out of a car, turning full circle to enjoy the view.

"The Lake District, it's a good location actually – we aren't far from a few of the nice lakes for a gentle stroll and there are even some peaks if you fancy a hike or something."

"Well, I am in the mood for something a little energetic," Richard's heart sank, he didn't really feel like climbing a peak after driving all this way. "But my activities don't involve leaving the cottage."

Oh, that he could manage.

On Sunday evening, after they had finished most of a bottle of wine outside in the garden, Richard said, "Shouldn't we go out tomorrow morning before we have to set off? Actually look at the, well, lakes or something?" The fact of the matter was, apart from a run down to a local town to get additional food and wine, they hadn't really left the vicinity of the cottage. Their chosen activities hadn't required them to.

Camille responded to his question with a short laugh, "Oh it's not like we spent all our time in the cottage. We ate out in the garden didn't we? And the views are very nice, you can see plenty from here." Richard raised an eyebrow, it was a nice view – but this was the Lake District and they hadn't seen a single lake. Camille gave a small shake of her head and conceded, "Well I suppose we could climb a peak if you really wanted to."

"Not really," Richard quickly admitted, drawing another smile from her. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay with the fact we did come all this way just to stay in!"

"I'm okay with it!" Camille reassured him. "Though there is something I would like…"

"Yes?"

"Can we build a fire inside?" She asked eagerly.

Richard knew that, despite the glorious late spring sunshine they were enjoying, it was still considerably cooler in the UK than compared to Saint Marie. He hadn't imagine that Camille might actually be cold, she certainly hadn't make any indication of that being the case before now. She was sitting in the garden now in just a strappy top, with no signs of shivering, so perhaps it wasn't for reasons of heating she wanted a fire.

"You're not cold, are you?" he asked. "Nobody really builds a fire in May in the UK but I suppose it would be warmer on Saint Marie. I'm really not sure they'll be any logs or coal but I can have a look."

"Oh I'm not cold, I just thought a fire would be nice," she admitted with a small shrug.

Richard puzzled over this for a moment, and then realised where Camille's desire might be originating, "Do you just want to make love in front of a fire?"

Camille looked a little embarrassed, and he knew he had guessed correctly. "You think it's silly, don't you? You know the whole cottage thing is so romantic and I quite liked the idea of a fire and some more wine…"

Richard wanted to add it would be better if it was actually winter, with a rain storm that they had just been caught in, but then he might be forced to admit he had spent hours contemplating that sort of cliché fantasy in the past. Instead he got up and went to what he thought to be the coal bunker and had a look inside. There was a couple of scuttles worth in there, but no sign of any wood anywhere.

"Well I could set light to an old newspaper," he call out to her jokingly. He was rewarded with a giggle for his efforts and she rose from the picnic table and came to join him.

"Maybe we can just use our imagination," she said suggestively.

"You've done well, you know," Camille said to him whilst he was still trying to catch his breath. Richard was suddenly worried that meant he hadn't performed up to scratch on all the previous occasions, even though she had seemed to enjoy those as much as she had this time, but then Camille continued and he realised he had to wrong end of the stick. "This is much better than a caravan in Clacton. It's so beautiful here and very romantic. I didn't really know you had it in you!"

He frowned, she was praising him for showing ingenuity, and he was once again reminded that he didn't really deserve it. If it was up to him, they would be in a caravan right now, fed up with fish and chips and having been attacked by sea gulls at least six times. Despite the advice Carter had given him, her insistence that he need not acknowledge her interference, he knew guilt was about to get the better of him.

"Actually, though I was going to take you away, the whole idea to come up here was Carter's," he admitted. Camille, who had been tracing shapes with her fingertips on his chest that caused him all sorts of delightful sensations, paused in that activity. "I'm afraid if she hadn't intervened we would be in a caravan now. I'm sorry to, um, disappoint you."

"Oh I'm not disappointed in you!" She said hurriedly, sitting up a little so she could look him in the face. "A little surprised by the admission, but the fact you took her advice is very impressive. Nice to know you can be trained," she teased him, before settling back down against him.

"Do you know what's silly?" He said.

"What?"

"I still really want to take you to Clacton, even though I know you were much happier with this choice," he confessed. Something about having Camille's warmth pressed against him, the feeling of her fingertips that had returned to their gentle explorations, made him feel a little bolder than usual, and comfortable in explaining his admission further. "I don't know, I just love the idea of being with you, somebody so vivacious and beautiful and foreign - but not in a bad way – somewhere so English and that formed such a key part of my past. Take you, who makes me so happy, to a place I was always happy. I wanted to show you it, you know, the beaches packed full of sunburnt families, the pier full of arcades, being harassed by sea gulls on the prom. And yes, the caravan would be rather small and possibly drafty, but that just means you have to cuddle closer in the bed…" He trailed off, aware he may have been rambling.

Camille shifted and gave him an intent look that made his stomach do an odd sort of flippy thing. "Can we leave now?" She asked, surprising him.

"What?"

"Can we go to Clacton now?" She said, trying to be clearly but Richard was still just as confused. "You have succeeded in making Clacton sound incredibly romantic and there is nothing I want more than to go there with you and cuddle up in a tiny bed in a drafty caravan."

Oh great, so now it turns out he would have been better off following his original plan. It didn't bother him that much, he was too pleased that Camille actually wanted to spend more time with him. "Camille, it is hours away and we have to go back to London tomorrow."

"So that's a no?"

"That's a no," he confirmed. "But we could maybe go another time?"

"We will definitely go another time."

Richard rather wished he was the sort of man who could chuck in all responsibility in order to run off in the pursuit of love. But he wasn't, he knew he had to return to work and that the moment when he and Camille had to face the issues they had been putting off was rapidly approaching. With a certain level of reluctance, he chucked his bag into the boot of the car and climbed into the driver's seat. As she climbed in the car beside him Camille said, really rather nonchalantly, "I think I'll move to the UK."

Richard had just started the car, but her proclamation meant he turned the key back into the off position. "I'm sorry?" he asked, thinking perhaps his own desperate desires had caused him to hallucinate her statement.

"I said I think I'll come live in the UK. London, specifically, hopefully a certain person I know won't mind me moving in." Nope, he hadn't imagined it.

"But, Camille, what about your career? You know The Met isn't hiring at the moment?" Part of Richard wondered why the hell he was giving her reasons to change her mind, but he would hate the idea she would give up something she loved because of him.

"Oh I know. But I did briefly connect my phone to the Wi-Fi and I appear to have seven emails from a certain member of your CID providing me with details of translator jobs. Apparently both The Met, Thames Valley and the UK Border Agency are all after French translators, I'm sure I could get one of the positions," she explained. "I'd still be involved in police work, just as a civilian, and then if they do start hiring again I think I'd be in a good position."

"Hmmm…" Richard said thoughtfully. "I don't know. I know you, every week you'll come home and tell me about how you are sure the detectives are taking the entirely wrong direction in the case but they refuse to listen to your instincts! Then we'll end up having to solve the case ourselves in our spare time."

Camille glared at him, and then realised he was in fact teasing her. "That may occasionally happen," she admitted.

"You are really willing to move half way around the world?" Richard asked again, not quite able to believe his luck. He was sure it was going to take them hours and a lot of arguing to figure out their future.

"Yes," Camille said firmly. "Yes I am sure." After a short pause she added, "I even promise not to remind you of the fact I did so very often."

"You do this and you can be as demanding as you like," Richard said, even though he knew that would likely only be true for the first couple of weeks before they fell back into the usual routine of bickering. He leaned across and kissed her, Camille responded eagerly by practically crawling into his lap. When she shifted the car horn ended up sounding, the noise causing both of them to rapidly move apart.

"Probably not the best location for that sort of activity," Richard said – glancing around in case any passing people had spotted them making out in the car like teenagers. They appeared to be blessedly alone.

As Camille settled back in and did up her seat belt, Richard suspected the drive back was going to feel very long indeed…But then again, it did seem like they had a whole lot more time to enjoy each other's company.