To her relief, when they drew up outside her house there was no sign of her car. No sign of life at all, in fact. Stewart's car was still parked outside where they had left it on Christmas Eve and the curtains and blinds were still half-closed to the world, the universal 'we're not here, but we are really' sign and she felt an overwhelming sense of relief that she wouldn't have to face her husband, nor have to explain why she was in a car with her boss.

"He's not here then," Frank said, breaking into her thoughts.

"Doesn't look like it."

"I'll come inside with you."

"No don't," she said, making him pause as he took off his seatbelt. "I'm better off going in by myself, just in case."

"If he's in there…"

"Then I'm going to have a hard time explaining why you're here, aren't I? I won't be long, I promise." Opening the car door, she rooted in her pocket for the keys and then made her way up the path to the front door. She felt her heart pound as she unlocked it and stepped inside, the house greeted her with silence. "Hello?" she called out. "Stewart?" There was no reply and, breathing a sigh of relief, she hurried upstairs and pulled her suitcase out from under the bed. She went through her wardrobe, throwing her clothes in rather haphazardly followed by her toiletries and other personal effects, then she dragged the case back down the stairs before wandering around the living room and kitchen, trying to decide if there was anything else she should take. She paused at the sideboard and lifted a framed wedding photograph of the two of them standing outside the church, holding hands and looking happy. If only she had known then what would have happened in the future. Unzipping the case, she placed it carefully inside and then took a last look around before heading for the door again. Of course, there would be other things to divide up, but that could be done later. For now, she had what she needed.

Frank got out of the car as she approached, opening the boot and taking the case from her. As he did so, she turned back to look at the house again, the first place she and Stewart had owned together; the place where, at one time, she had assumed they would live happily ever after.

"Ready to go?"

"It wasn't all bad you know," she said quietly, unsure who the sentiment was really directed at, him or herself.

"No, course not." He put his hand on her arm. "Come on."

Wordlessly, she climbed back into the car, craning her neck to look back as they made their way down the street and back onto the main road. A mixture of emotions ran through her; relief, guilt, anxiety…they were all there, jumping and jumbling around inside her brain and she bit her lip to stop herself becoming overwhelmed. Fifteen minutes later, Frank swung into the car park of a large grey building, and she had her first glimpse of her new accommodation.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked, switching off the engine. "It's not too late to change your mind, you know. My offer still stands."

"I'm sure," she replied, unwilling to get into another debate about it with him.

"Fine." He got out of the car, lifted her case from the boot and carried it over to the security door. "I hope he remembers we're coming."

"Frank!" a male voice came through the speaker. "Long time no see."

"Too long, Ronnie. Can you let us in?" the door buzzed, and he pushed it open, holding it for her to through first. As she stepped into the hallway and took in the bare walls and somewhat clinical overall appearance, she felt the first stab of uncertainty. A man in uniform appeared out of an office next to the door and made his way towards them. "You haven't changed at any rate," Frank greeted him.

"Neither have you, Frank," Ronnie replied. "This her then?"

"Yeah, Ronnie Anderson, this is WDC Christina Lewis, your newest resident."

"Nice to meet you," Ronnie replied. "Welcome to Newton Street."

"Thanks," she replied.

"I'll give you the tour."

She glanced back at Frank and could tell what he was thinking, well aware it wasn't a million miles away from her own thoughts. Perhaps she had been too hasty in her dismissal of his offer. Perhaps she should go back to his flat with him. She opened her mouth to say as much, and then closed it again. Beggars couldn't be choosers at the end of the day, and she had made her bed. Now she had to lie in it, alone.

"Canteen is along the hall. Women are on the second floor," Ronnie said as he led her and Frank up the stairs. "Men on the third floor. Fraternisation is discouraged but not prohibited, although no member of the opposite sex is to be in another person's room after 9pm. If we find that rule to be broken, then you're out."

"He's all charm is our Ronnie," Frank muttered as he followed her, and she could tell he wasn't overly pleased at the rules. At the end of the day though, perhaps it was just as well.

"Toilets and showers are here," Ronnie pushed open the door to the communal areas. "Your room is down the hall, number 35." He handed her a key. "Place is a bit quiet at the moment, what with people having been away for Christmas and New Year, but it should fill up again from tonight. You won't be lonely, that's for sure."

"Thanks," she replied, taking the key from him and turning it over in her hand.

"If you need anything else, give me a shout. Frank."

"Cheers Ronnie," Frank turned back to her as the other man walked away. "Right, let's see what comforts await you then."

When she pushed open the door to her room, she couldn't help but feel a slight sinking in her stomach. It was fairly barren with a bed, wardrobe, desk and a small wash basin in the corner. So very far removed from her own home. But, under the circumstances, it was better than nothing.

"Stone me," Frank said, looking around. "It's worse than I thought."

"It'll be fine," she replied brightly. "Once I've got some of my things out, I'm sure it'll seem more homely." She gestured to the suitcase he had kindly carried up for her. "Thanks for that."

"Well, I'd be no gentleman at all if I'd let you carry it on your own."

"I suppose I should unpack."

"Don't let me stop you," he replied, moving over to the window and looking out at the view.

"Actually…" he turned back to look at her. "I'm probably best on my own."

"Oh, I see…like that, is it?"

Her heart sank at his tone, "Don't be like that, please."

"So, I'm good enough to come all the way to Leicester to get you, drive you back down here, wait until you empty your place and then ferry you over here to take up the place I found for you…"

"Frank…"

"Look, I don't want to leave you here on your own. I still don't get why you had to come here at all, but I accept it," he added as she opened her mouth to protest. "But surely that doesn't mean we can't at least spend some time together."

"Doing what?"

"I don't know, anything. Something normal, like dinner or the pictures."

"Like normal couples do? This isn't normal though, is it?" She turned and opened her suitcase, the first sight to greet her that of her wedding photograph. "I've got a lot of thinking to do."

"About what?"

"About where I go from here. I'm due back at work tomorrow and I'll need to tell the DCI about my new situation, not to mention the fact I'll need to start looking for a flat and, most likely, a solicitor. There's a lot to consider." She put the photograph on the bed, but turned it face down.

"Well, I can help you with that."

"It's good of you to offer…"

"I don't mind. I could check out some places for you and I know a few solicitors. Not all of them are good but there's one bloke…"

"No, please…" she turned back to face him and sighed, "please, you need to let me do these things on my own. I'm thirty years old and I've never lived on my own or had to really ever organise anything important on my own…"

"And you don't have to. I'm here."

"And I'm so grateful for that, really I am, but there's some things that I need to do without you." She moved towards him and slid her arms around him, well aware that she was using subtle intimacy to try and soften him up. "It's not like we're not going to see each other every day anyway, is it?"

"I suppose not," he agreed, kissing her gently. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. I just need you to step back a bit, that's all."

"That's the trouble. I've been stepping back from you for months, years even, and now…well…I've got you. You're mine."

In one sense, the proprietary nature of his words thrilled her but, in another, they made her feel slightly imprisoned, as though she was a possession just being passed back and forth. Thinking on it now, she knew she had spent far too many years allowing Stewart to be the dominant one in their relationship and if she was ever going to make a new life for herself, that had to change. For all their differences, he and Frank had a lot in common, both Alpha males, keen to ringfence what they perceived to be 'theirs.'

"And I want to be yours," she said diplomatically, "but I need to be my own person too."

"All right," he said finally, kissing her again. "I'll go and leave you in peace if that's what you really want. Do me a favour though, call me later?"

"I will."

"Good, and another thing; don't be getting too personally involved with anyone else staying here, especially not Hollis."

"I doubt Reg and I are going to start bonding over the canteen food," she smiled.

"Well, stranger things have happened."

He left then and, despite her seeking solitude, it suddenly enveloped her like a blanket, and she found herself poised to go after him and tell him to come back. But something stopped her; the little thing inside her that kept saying she had to do this on her own. She had left Stewart for herself, not Frank, and she needed to stand on her own two feet.

2 January 1991

"Frank, do you have a minute?"

He looked up to see Kim hovering in his doorway, a serious expression on her face. "Yes Ma'am." She closed the door behind her and took a seat on the opposite side of his desk.

"I've just had WDC Lewis in my office."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes. She's just explained to me that she and her husband separated over the Christmas period and that she's now living over at Newton Street." Kim paused and he could tell she was waiting for him to divulge how much, or little, he knew about the situation.

"Yes Ma'am, I'm aware of her change in circumstances."

"Yes, I know. Christina told me that you were the one who managed to get her into Newton Street."

"I know the warden there; he's very accommodating."

"Well, that was very good of you, especially on New Year's Day."

"Well, I wasn't doing anything else. I would have done it for any one of my team, Ma'am," he replied, hoping that he sounded appropriately casual about the whole thing.

"I'm glad to hear it," Kim said. "It's important that officers feel that they can come to their line managers with their problems, personal and professional, particularly if the former might impinge on the latter." She paused. "Christina told me that she intends to rent her own flat and begin divorce proceedings against her husband. I understand things have been rather difficult on that front."

"Yes Ma'am, for quite some time now."

"I'm given to understand that he was shot."

"Yes, and has taken to the bottle as a result. He's made things very difficult for her over the last six months."

"So I would imagine," Kim got to her feet. "Well, I'm glad she's been able to rely on your support, Frank, although I would obviously expect you to keep me in the loop if you felt there were other things going on."

"Other things?" he asked.

"Yes, other things that might affect her ability to do her job. I'd want to know if there were any other issues, in order that the appropriate help and support could be given."

"Yes Ma'am, of course."

"Good. Right, I'll leave you to it then." He watched as she walked away, thinking with a sense of admiration, that Christina hadn't wasted much time. He hadn't had the chance to see her that morning, having been called into a meeting with Conway first thing, but the fact that she had taken it upon herself to not only inform the DCI about what had already happened but also about what her future plans were only made the warm feeling in his belly grow stronger. When he had left her at Newton House the previous afternoon, part of him had been convinced that she was going to change her mind, even when she had phoned him that evening as promised and told him that everything was fine.

Getting up from his desk, he wandered into the quiet CID office. Christina was nowhere to be seen and the only person there, to his relief, was Ted. He lifted some papers from on top of the filing cabinet and strolled over to the other man's desk. "She did it then."

"Who did what?" Ted asked, his words mumbled around his cigarette.

"Christina left Stewart."

Ted looked up, "You're joking."

"No, I'm not. Left him on New Year's Eve."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Oh, come on are you going to make me drag it out of you?"

He glanced over his shoulder, simply to ensure that no-one was within earshot. "I went to Leicester to get her and brought her back here. I managed to get her into Newton Street."

"Newton Street?" Ted stared at him. "Why on earth…?"

"Because she made it clear she wanted to go into a section house until she found somewhere else to stay."

Ted's eyes narrowed, "So she didn't go home with you then?"

"No." Frank met his gaze. "Probably a wise decision all round, don't you think?"

"I think she'd have a hard time explaining to the DCI why she'd left her husband if she was living with you, yes."

"Well, she isn't. So, there's no problem."

Ted laughed shortly, "I'm glad you see it that way."

"Meaning what?"

"Well, just because she's not living with you doesn't change anything does it? It doesn't change the fact that you're still having a relationship with a junior officer. It doesn't change the fact that if anyone found out…"

"Yeah, all right, thanks for that," he turned back towards his office, regretting confiding in the other man at all. "I don't need a speech from you."

"You didn't listen to a word I said in the pub, did you?"

"I told you, I don't need…"

"Frank…" Ted sat forwards in his chair. "This has disaster written all over it, one way or another."

"I don't remember you saying that when you were doing the dirty mambo with Frazer."

"That was different, and you know it. We had an attraction to one another, a fling. You told me you were in love with Christina. That paints an entirely different picture." He sat back and shook his head. "If you ask me, this is a huge mistake."

"Yeah well," he turned away. "Good thing I'm not asking you then, isn't it?"

XXXX

She had felt a sense of relief telling the DCI about her situation, or at least half of it. It made it more official in her own mind, as though there was no going back. Frank knowing what was going on didn't really seem to count given he was as deeply involved as she herself was. She had been surprised at how matter of fact she had been able to be when telling Kim. The other woman had displayed concern for her well-being, but almost seemed slightly impressed, as though she hadn't considered her to be capable of such decisiveness. In any event, she had left the office feeling as though a weight had been lifted. She had intended to find Frank but had subsequently been waylaid by Dave and June who wanted to talk to her about a burglary that had taken place the night before. By the time she had waded through that with them, she had found herself in desperate need of a coffee. The machine was out of order, and she was just on her way to the canteen when Reg called to her from the other end of the corridor.

"I've been looking for you," he said. "I called up to CID but there was no answer."

"Probably because I'm here, Reg," she replied. "As you see."

"Yeah, well…your husband's here."

She froze at his words, "What?"

"Your husband. He's in the front office looking for you." He looked at her and she realised the expression on her face must have given away her feelings. "Do you want me to tell him you're not here?"

It would be the easiest solution in the world, simply pretending, but she knew deep down that it would only cause problems in the long run. After all, she couldn't hide from him forever. She felt a knot of panic form in her stomach, and she swithered about asking Reg to phone Frank to tell him to come down. Then she shook herself metaphorically and reminded herself that this was one of those things that she really needed to do on her own. "No, it's fine, I'll speak to him. Where is he?"

"Front interview room."

"Fine, I'll be there in a minute." Before Reg could ask the burning questions she was assuming he wanted to, she ducked into the ladies' toilet and stood looking at herself in the mirror, taking deep breaths. She could do this, of course she could. She was resolved in her position and, besides, she was in the station. If anything untoward were to happen…she pushed the thought from her mind. She'd known Stewart for so many years; he wouldn't be so stupid as to try anything on. Taking a final deep breath, she opened the door and made her way along the corridor into the front office and pushed open the door to the interview room.

Stweart was standing at the far side, his hands on his hips, and when he turned to look at her, she could see his face was tight was anger. For a moment, she considered walking out again, but she stood firm, closing the door behind her. "So," he said by way of greeting, "you're here."

"Yes, I work here."

"Don't get smart-mouthed with me, Chris." His eyes flashed angrily. "When I got home last night, I saw you'd cleaned the place out."

"Hardly," she replied. "I took what was mine, that's all. Anything else we'll have to divide up amicably."

He blinked a few times and then shook his head, "Divide up amicably?"

"Yes. I told you, I want a divorce."

"And I told you that you didn't mean that. You can't mean that."

"Can't I? Why not?"

"Because…" he floundered slightly, "we've been together for years!"

"People change," she said, remembering Frank's words to her. "We're not the same people we were all those years ago. You're not the same person you were six months ago."

"And that's my fault, is it? I asked to get shot?"

"No, of course not, but nobody forced you to crawl inside a bottle. Nobody forced you to get arrested. Nobody forced you to throw your career away."

"My career? What fucking career? Life on a desk at Hoxton? You call that a career?"

It was the same thing he had trotted out time and time again and she was sick of hearing it. Sick of trying to convince him that there were other options. She had no energy left for his sorrows. "I'm not going down this road again, Stewart. You made your choices and now you're living with the consequences of them, I'm sorry," she said, turning for the door.

"Hang on! You can't just turn around and walk away! We need to talk about this!"

"There's nothing to talk about," she turned back. "I'm not happy and I haven't been for a long time. You're an alcoholic…"

"No, I'm not!"

She threw her hands up, "Well that's it then, isn't it? End of conversation." She turned to open the door only to feel him suddenly rush up behind her.

"No, wait!" he took hold of her arm and pulled her round to face him. "Chris, this is ridiculous, darling, you know it is. I love you; you love me. It's Stewart and Christina; it always has been, always will be…" She shook her head. "Listen to me, just listen. I…I know things have been difficult but…but we've always been able to work things out in the past, haven't we? You don't just throw fourteen years away over something like this. Come on, please. Let's just talk about it."

His expression was plaintive, almost pleading, and she couldn't help but feel a pull somewhere deep inside her. She could see the boy he had once been, the boy she had fallen in love with. She could remember every experience they had shared together, kisses, sex, going to Hendon, passing out, getting their first postings, their home, building their life together. She could remember all the good times they had shared together, how loved he had made her feel…once. But then she thought back over all the times when she knew now he had made her unhappy, not to mention the last six months, an intense period when she had seen him crumble to the point where there had been moments when he had made her afraid.

And then, of course, there was Frank.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said quietly. "I don't want to work things out, Stewart. I want a divorce."

His expression hardened again, and he stepped back from her. "So, that's it then? We get a divorce and…that's just it?" She nodded. "No, no way. You can't possibly think that after fourteen years together and ten years of marriage that I'm just going to let you walk away from me, can you? You're my wife."

"I'm sorry."

"Where are you staying?"

"I'm not going to tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's none of your business."

"It is my business! You're my wife!"

"Ok," she put her hand on the door handle, "I think this conversation is over, don't you?"

"Who is he?" he glared at her.

"What?"

"Who is he? Who are you fucking?"

"I'm not fucking anybody," she replied, hoping that she could hide the lie, "and even if I was that would have nothing to do with this. I've made this decision because it's what's best for me."

"And to hell with me? To hell with us?"

"I'm going to get a solicitor," she said, opening the door. "I suggest you do the same."

"No, stop!" She kept walking, back out into the front office, hoping that any diatribe he might want to launch into would be curtailed by the presence of others. "I said, stop!" he grabbed hold of her arm again, more forcefully this time, and yanked her back around, pulling her tightly into him so that she could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Don't you walk away from me!"

"Let go of me!" she tried to free herself from his grip, but it was too tight, too painful. "Stewart, let go!"

"Let her go!" they both looked across to see Ted standing at the foot of the stairs. "Let her go, Stewart, or I'll make you let her go."

For a moment, his grip on her momentarily tightened then, as though realising his quest to make her listen was futile, he suddenly released her, pushing her away from him, causing her to stumble back and almost lose her footing.

"This isn't over," he said angrily, before slamming the station door open and storming outside.

There was a silence in the front office. When she looked over at the desk, Reg was watching her with a look of shock, and she knew that a lurid tale of what had just happened would be all round the station within the hour. Ted's expression was more concerned and as he moved across the space towards her, she realised that she was trembling.

"Come on," he said softly, "I'll get you a coffee. Hollis. Hollis?"

"Oh, yeah," Reg pressed the button to open the internal door.

She walked along the corridor, putting one foot in front of the other and yet feeling as though she wasn't fully in control of her body. "Thanks."

"No problem. Hollis was useless as usual. Do you want coffee, or would you prefer something stronger?"

"A nip from the famous Roach bottle?" she joked. "Coffee's fine." She followed him into the canteen and only felt herself start to regain control once they were sat at a table in the far corner. Sipping the scalding liquid, she tried to avoid his gaze. "I'm embarrassed that anyone had to witness that."

"Don't worry about it."

"He's not…"

"Don't make excuses for him, Chris."

She looked up and nodded, "I know. You're right. It's just that sometimes I look at him and can't believe how much he's changed." A sudden feeling of dread washed over her. "Please, don't tell Frank."

He grimaced at her, "I doubt I'd have to. Hollis is probably upstairs right now regaling the entire CID office." She sat back in her chair and sighed. "I hope you've thought all this through."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's one thing for you to leave your husband for completely legitimate reasons relating to your relationship, and given what's happened to Stewart, no-one could blame you. But it's quite another for you to leave him because you've been having an affair with your boss."

"If you're about to give me a lecture on morality…"

"Ha! That would be rather hypocritical coming from me, wouldn't it? I just don't want you to be under any illusions as to how this might all pan out."

"I'm not under any illusions," she said. "I know how it's going to look."

Ted looked at her carefully. "He loves you. Frank, I mean."

"I know. I love him."

"Do you?"

"Yes!" She felt indignant at any suggestion that her feelings were less than genuine. "Not that it's any of your business."

"It'll be my business if and when it all comes out," he said. "It'll be all of our business then."

"Ted…" she sat forward again, "Please, I…we…need you to keep all this to yourself. There's so many things that I need to figure out, not just about my separation from Stewart but my life going forwards."

"You need to think about Frank's life too, his career, as well as your own. Love doesn't conquer all, you know."

"I know," she said, lowering her gaze again.

"But I told him, and I'll tell you; your secret's safe with me."

"Thanks, I appreciate it…" she broke off as the canteen door suddenly swung violently open, crashing back upon itself, and causing everyone inside to look up. Frank's gaze sought and found her's, and she noticed an imperceptible slump of relief in his body. Sighing again, she flashed him a tight smile. "I wish everyone was as discreet as you, Ted."