28 January 1991
"So, what's like then?"
"It's nice. Ground floor, one-bedroom, spacious living room and kitchen, nice communal garden, fully furnished…it's pretty perfect really."
"And it's on Ruthvin Road?"
"Yeah, so it should cut the commute a bit too. I think I'm going to take it."
"I look forward to seeing it."
"You'll have to help me christen it."
"Well, you know I've got no difficulty with that."
Christina laughed and leaned back against the wall, wrapping the phone cord around her fingers. "It'll be good to get out of here at any rate. I feel like the oldest person in here. Everyone else seems to be 21 and here for a party. It's like living in a university dorm, or what I would imagine at any rate." She paused as two shrieking girls walked past her. "Can you hear that?"
"It's hard not to," Frank replied. "Maybe you should join them before it's too late."
"No thanks, I prefer the peace and quiet." She turned back to face the wall. "How was Hendon?"
"Dull, dull and, did I say dull? Being talked at for four hours is not my idea of how to spend a Friday afternoon. How about you? What's happening with that child molestation?"
She sighed, a shiver running through her at the very thought of her current investigation. Sally Baines, a six-year-old girl, had gone running home from the park a few days earlier to tell her mother that she had been fondled by a man. The description she had given was pretty vague and though extensive enquiries had been made, nothing had come to light yet. "Not a lot," she replied. "The house to house hasn't really given us anything. I was down the park earlier, speaking to some of the parents that were there with their kids, but no-one could tell me anything. No-one even remembers seeing Sally that day."
"Well, there's a pervert out there somewhere and we need to catch him before he does this again, or something worse."
"I know."
"How's Sally?"
"Pretty traumatised, as you'd expect. Her parents are in an even worse state. They keep wondering what else might have happened, how much further he might have gone if Sally hadn't been able to get away."
"Who'd have kids, eh?"
"Yeah…" she trailed off. "Anyway, I'd better go. I'm sorry I'm not going to get to see you tonight."
"I know darling, I'm sorry, but it can't be helped. I've had this drink with Tommy booked for months now and if I don't go, God only knows when I might get another chance. I'd bring you with me but…well…"
"It's boys chat, I get it," she teased. "I'll just have to occupy myself some other way then."
"Oh yeah?" his voice lowered, "and how might you do that?"
"Well…I suppose you'll just have to guess, won't you? Night." Before he could say anything more, she hung up the receiver and then skipped back up the stairs to her room, somewhat pleased with her own teasing efforts. Despite the downside of trying to maintain a secret relationship, one of the positive elements was often the thrill of sharing a truth that no-one else knew. Well, almost no-one else. Ted didn't count, not really.
There had been so many times over the last few weeks, too many to count, when she and Frank had been in a room together with the others and the air between them had been electric. He only had to look at her sometimes and she felt every part of her start to melt, only had to brush past her and the static would fly. It seemed a miracle sometimes that no-one else had picked up on it and she couldn't help but worry sometimes about them growing sloppy. But it was also more than the physical. The time they spent together wasn't completely given over to sex. They talked, a lot, and she had found herself opening up to him about so many things that she had kept buried, most importantly, her relationship with her parents. She talked about Stewart too sometimes, but she was savvy enough to know that he wasn't Frank's favourite topic of conversation and therefore she tried to keep reference to him to a minimum. In return, Frank talked about his family, his own difficult relationship with his late father, her sister and her family, his ex-wife and, most surprisingly of all, he told her about his old friend, Barry Foxton, someone he had walked the beat with in the early days and who had been shot right in front of him with a bullet, Frank was convinced, had been meant for him. When she had tried to probe him more, he had clammed up, told her it had been a long time ago and promptly changed the subject, but she hadn't forgotten about it.
Sharing those intimate pieces of their lives only made her feel closer to him, closer than she would have ever imagined, and only helped to reinforce the fact that she had made the right decision. She had left Stewart for herself, for her own sanity, but she had left him for Frank too.
To her surprise, she had heard nothing further from Stewart since his appearance at the station, so she had ploughed on with trying to find a flat and a solicitor, coming across the latter through the recommendation of a friend. The wheels were all finally in motion.
It didn't take long once she was back in her room for her to feel the first stirrings of restlessness. It was Friday night and there she was, thirty years of age, and stuck in a section house. It was still relatively early and though the weather was cold and blustery outside, she had a sudden urge to get out. Pulling on her coat and hat, she made her way back downstairs and out the front door, resolving that she would go and sit in one of the local pubs, have a couple of quiet drinks herself and then head back with some chips. It might not have sounded the most exciting way to spend the evening, but it was better than being alone.
As she made her way across the car park and turned into the main street that led down to the local, she suddenly had the feeling that someone was behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention and a chill swept through her that had nothing to do with the air temperature. She slowed her pace and then turned around, ready to confront whoever it might be, but the pavement behind her was empty and a sudden wave of ridiculousness swept over her at her stupidity. Why would anyone want to follow her anyway?
She turned back and kept walking, eventually pushing open the door of the pub and stepping inside. It was busy, but not overly so and she was soon ensconced in the corner, watching the other patrons and making up stories in her head about their lives and what they were doing there that night. It was a habit she had formed over many years, and it brought a smile to her face, wondering if anyone was looking at her and doing the same.
XXXX
"You haven't changed anyway, Frank," Tommy said, putting his glass down on the table. "Still full of it."
"To get on in this job, you have to be," he replied. "I mean, that's why I asked you for this drink after all."
"I knew it was about more than just two old acquaintances catching up."
"It's about that spot on the Flying Squad, the one we talked about before Christmas."
"What about it?"
"Is it still vacant?"
"At the moment. Why, you really interested?"
"I might be."
"Why for God's sake? Why would you want to leave Sun Hill? I thought it was your kingdom."
"It is," he sat back, "but things change."
"What things?"
"Just things."
"I thought you went back on division for a slightly slower pace of life," Tommy said. "I seem to recall you leaving the Robbery Squad all those years ago to try and save your marriage."
It seemed like a hundred years ago. Six years, if he thought about it. He remembered telling Julie that he was going to move to Whitton Street, that being a divisional DS would give him more time to spend with her even though, by that point, he'd already had his leg over with goodness only knew how many other women. It hadn't worked though. Maybe he hadn't wanted it to.
"That was a long time ago," he replied. "I've been divorced for ages. Maybe it's time to get into something different again." It seemed paradoxical to make a move that might put his relationship with Christina in jeopardy when he was really doing it to save it but, at the moment, there seemed little other option.
"Well, you know I've got no influence there, not really."
"You could have a word in the right ears though, couldn't you? Not to mention you said the DCI over there was looking to take the next step up. I've got no chance of promotion where I am right now."
"Yeah, I heard you'd got a female Guvnor," Tommy chuckled. "Dawn of the nineteen nineties and all that."
"Something like that," he drained his glass. "I try to stay out of her way to be honest. So, what do you think about the job then?"
"Well, I can ask around and see how the land lies," Tommy said. "No promises though."
"None expected. I can only ask you to do what you can do."
Later, when he got back to his flat, he found himself wishing that Christina had a phone in her room at Newton Street. He wanted to hear her voice again, maybe even wanted to tell her about his plans, though he knew it would be foolhardy at this stage. She already had too much to think about herself. It was also well past nine o'clock, and he didn't want to incur the wrath of Ronnie Anderson by trying to worm his way into the section house after hours.
It would be different once she had her own place. They would be able to do what they liked completely undisturbed.
XXXX
It was almost eleven by the time Christina left the pub. She had been so caught up in her people-watching that she had lost track of the time, especially when a couple at the next table had started a lengthy argument about how he was ruining her relationship with her mother. Unfortunately, the woman had stormed off before the argument had concluded and she was only able to imagine how it might have been resolved.
She made her way back along the street, stopping at the chip shop on the corner for a bag before heading back. Bringing food into Newton Street wasn't encouraged, so she knew she'd either have to eat all the chips before she got there or stuff them into her coat like some sort of burglar. The shop was busy, full of people who had been out having a good time, laughing and joking, most of them drunk. Her mind wandered to Stewart, as it often did, and to what he might be doing. Lying shit-faced on the couch was her obvious conclusion. For a brief moment, she felt a pang of concern, as if perhaps she should check on him, make sure he was all right in the wake of her upturning his life. The pang soon faded though. He wasn't her responsibility anymore, couldn't be.
She had almost reached the car park when she felt the same sensation as she had earlier; that someone was following her. Glancing behind her once again, however, there was no-one to be seen, but as she turned back, she heard what sounded suspiciously like the crack of a tree branch behind her and she started to run. Flying across the car park, she didn't stop until she had managed to let herself in the security door and slammed it behind her. Looking out into the inky darkness, she tried to see if there was anyone there watching, but the place appeared deserted.
"Problem?"
She jumped at the sound of Ronnie's voice and, turning to face him, let out a long breath of relief. "No, I just thought…I thought someone was following me, that's all."
"Really?" he looked outside. "I can't see anyone."
"It was probably just my imagination. Anyway, night." Before he could recognise the smell of salt and vinegar emanating from her coat, she bounded up the stairs and along the corridor to her room, closing and locking the door behind her. The darkness had just made her paranoid, that was all. Sinking down onto the bed, she devoured the chips, then changed into her nightclothes and slipped between the covers.
Once she had her own place, things would be different. Frank could stay over, discreetly of course, and she wouldn't feel like she was in so much of a bubble. Yes, things would be very different.
1 February
"So, if you could just sign here and…here…fantastic. Here are your keys and welcome to your new home."
The letting agent grinned and Christina couldn't help but grin back. She was finally standing in a place she could call her own, well, so long as she paid her rent that was, and the feeling was overwhelming. It was even greater than when she and Stewart had moved into their home together. This time, she was on her own for the first time in her life, and that fact alone gave her a certain sense of freedom. The flat was ideal, a great start for her. She could only imagine where her life might go from this point, and she felt excited by the possibilities. Of course, the first thing she had to do was move her things from Newton Street, but that would have to wait until she had finished her shift, something which she was already running late for. By the time she arrived at the station and hurried into the CID office, Kim was already in full flow briefing the troops and she slid quietly in at the back.
"So that makes two children in the space of a week," she was saying. "Naturally the local community is feeling pretty shaky right now and I've got a meeting later with the local councillor to discuss what we're doing about these attacks. Tosh, any word on the CCTV?"
"We're still going through footage from the time of the Baines attack, but if it was the same area, we might be able to get something on this one too."
"Good, let's make that a priority. What about the house-to-house enquiries?" Her eyes scanned the room before resting on Christina. "Chris, that was your area, wasn't it?"
"Yes Ma'am," she replied. "There wasn't really anything of any use that came out of it, nor from speaking to parents at the playground."
"Well, let's re-interview everyone in the area and ask them about this attack. Someone might have seen something this time around or perhaps be more inclined to help. What about registered sex offenders in the area?"
"There's three Ma'am," Viv said. "We've spoken to two of them and they both have alibis for the time of Sally's attack, but we can ask them again about last night. The third, Malcolm Smith, we're still trying to chase."
"Ok, let's make that a priority too. Frank, anything to add?"
He glanced at her, as though surprised she had allowed him to speak. "No Ma'am."
"Good, let's get it on it then." Kim nodded sharply and then turned back towards her office. "Oh, Chris, can I have a word?"
"Yes Ma'am." Glancing quickly at Frank, she followed the DCI out into her office. "I'm sorry I was late Ma'am."
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Kim said. "There was another attack on a child last night in the park. We were all informed first thing and had you been here, you would have been too. Is there any particular reason why you were late?"
"Yes Ma'am, I'm sorry, I was signing the lease to my new flat." The excuse sounded rather pathetic when she said it aloud, so different from how jubilant she had felt earlier.
"Well, I can appreciate the necessity of that, but perhaps it could have waited until after your shift."
"Yes Ma'am." She paused, wondering if she should mention that she had told Frank she would be late, then reasoned it was probably best to keep him out of it. "I was keen to get it done, I'm sorry."
Kim looked at her, "I understand it's been a difficult time for you over the last few weeks."
"Ma'am."
"Things have a way of finding their way around the station. I'm aware, for example, that your husband assaulted you in the front office last month."
"He didn't assault me; he just grabbed hold of my arm, that's all. He was upset."
"Yes…" Kim let out a breath, "well, if you have any problems, I do hope you'll feel able to come to me. I know you have a good relationship with Inspector Burnside, but as DCI, I should also be kept up to date with such matters. My remit includes your wellbeing."
She shifted uncomfortably. "I appreciate that, thank you."
"How are things between you and your husband now?"
"I haven't seen him since the day he was here, Ma'am, but I've rented a flat, so I can move out of the section house, and I've instructed a solicitor in the divorce proceedings."
"Good, you seem to have matters under control. Just remember your obligations to this department and we'll say no more about it."
"Ma'am." With a shaky breath, she left the office and headed back to her own desk where she found Frank hovering.
"Problem?"
"No, she was just reminding me about my obligations to the department."
"Did you tell her I knew you were going to be late?"
"No, there didn't seem much point."
"I was going to tell her, but then this other attack came in and things just snowballed from there."
"Forget it. What happened last night?"
"Jodie Fleming, five years old, same MO. Fondled in the park but managed to get away. No-one seems to have heard or seen anything."
"How is she?"
"Pretty traumatised, as are her parents. If we don't catch this bastard, he's going to take it further. I can feel it." He paused. "How did it go this morning anyway?"
"It seems pretty pathetic in comparison, but it went fine. I'll move my stuff in after the shift tonight."
"Good, let us know if you need a hand, won't you?" he winked at her and then turned back to his office, and she felt a smile spread across her face at the memory of their conversation days earlier. It was highly likely he'd do more than simply help her move in.
The phone on her desk suddenly started to ring and she lifted it automatically. "CID, WDC Lewis."
"Chris, it's June. I'm down at the front desk."
"Morning June."
"Listen…Stewart's here."
She paused as a chill swept over her body. "What, downstairs?"
"Yeah, he's asking to speak to you. He looks…"
"Looks what? Drunk?"
"No, I was going to say sober."
"Oh…" she glanced towards Frank's office where he was at his desk looking through papers. "Umm…ok, I'll be right down." Slowly, she replaced the receiver, a number of different scenarios running through her mind. She knew was she should do and that was stay far away from her husband. Or, if she intended to talk to him, at least have someone there in case he tried anything. But the part of her that still felt a slight tinge of guilt at how things had turned out between them, told her that the least she could do was hear what he had to say, just the two of them. "I'm just going for a coffee," she announced to anyone who might be listening and then hurried out of the room and down the stairs to the front office where she found Stewart hovering, examining the crime prevention posters tacked onto the wall. "Stewart."
He turned to look at her and, for the first time in a long time, she recognised the man she had once known. He did, as June as suggested, look sober and he shot her a tight smile. "Hi Chris, can we talk?" She paused and he shook his head, as though recognising what she was thinking. "Not like the last time, I promise."
"Ok…" with some hesitation she opened the door to the front interview room and followed him inside, closing the door behind her. "What do you want?"
He sighed heavily and thrust his hands in his pocket. "I want to ask you if you really mean this."
"Mean what?"
"Us getting a divorce. I got a letter this morning from your solicitor. I just…" he shook his head. "Fourteen years, Chris."
"I know…I'm sorry."
"I've really screwed things up, haven't I? I suppose I can't expect you to understand…" he trailed off and, for the briefest of moments, she thought he was going to cry. "Getting shot, losing my place on the squad…it was almost like a bereavement. I felt so…helpless. It was as though nobody understood, even you. I mean, they all said that they did, and they were all sympathetic but…I could tell that they didn't see me the same way."
"Who, your friends on the squad?"
"I guess it's true what they say, if you're not in, you're not in."
"But they're your friends…"
"Yeah, I thought so, but how many of them have I heard from since I got bumped? Harry, that's about it. How quickly they forget." He shook his head again. "I suppose, for a time, alcohol made me feel better."
"It didn't really bring the best out on in you," she observed.
"No, I guess not. I wanted to apologise for that and for what happened at the pub and in the house. I'm ashamed of how I acted. You know that I would never, in a million years, want to hurt you."
She felt a lump form in her throat at the sincerity of his words and expression and there was a stab of guilt in her gut. "I know that."
"I had a long conversation with my folks after I was here the last time. I told them everything and, well, they were pretty shocked. They gave me some home truths about how much you had always loved me and been there for me and…well I suppose I had always looked at it as me being there for you. I suppose I never really thought about it the other way around. Anyway, they said they would support me in whatever way they could, and they encouraged me to try and seek help, which I did. I've been to some AA meetings, and I've stopped drinking."
She blinked, surprised at his news. "Since when?"
"It's been sixteen days. I'm not saying it's been easy but…I'm trying." He looked at her hopefully. "Which is why I wanted to see you, to tell you about that and to ask…if there was any chance…?"
She felt blindsided, like a deer caught in headlights at the magnitude of what he was telling her. If it had happened months earlier, if he had come to his senses and made the changes he was professing to have made, she would most likely have jumped at the chance to rescue their marriage and would have buried any latent feelings she might have had for Frank. But…now…it was all too late. She had already given in to those feelings, had already acted upon them, and couldn't imagine herself being able to stop the train that was now chugging along the tracks.
"I'm sorry," she replied softly, "I can't."
The hope faded from his eyes, and he cast his gaze downwards. "I suppose it's no more than I deserve. I just…I need to ask you and I know I asked you before but…please be honest with me." He looked up again. "Is there someone else?"
"No," she said, the lie slipping easily from her mouth before she had time to consider either it or its implications. "There's no-one else."
He nodded, "Ok then. Well…I'll…I'll just have to find a solicitor then, I suppose." He moved past her to the door. "I guess I'll see you at some point then, you know, to sort out our things."
"Yes," she said, feeling her throat well up with emotion. "I can…we can…"
"Ok," he nodded again and then opened the door. "I hope you find somewhere decent to stay. A section house doesn't really suit you."
"Thanks," she said, and then he was gone, striding back across the front office and outside before she had time to even process the fact that he somehow knew where she was living.