Some more brief dialogue from 'Somebody Special' in this chapter.

This will be my last update for a couple of weeks as I'm on holiday next week and doubt I'll get the chance to write anything more before I go away. But I'll be right back on it when I get back!

"Well, I think it's fair to say we've had our ups and downs, haven't we?" Kim said, surveying her from the back of the office.

"Yes Ma'am, I suppose that's true," Christina replied.

"You've impressed me greatly at times, I think you know that."

"Ma'am."

"Perhaps your judgement has been lacking in some quarters but, all in all, I stand by what I've said before; you have the potential to go very far, Christina."

She felt her face flush, unsure if it was the compliment or the smear that had caused it. "Thank you, Ma'am. I appreciate all the advice and support you've given me since you've been here."

"Twelve-year sentences in total for those involved in the fraud enquiry; not to be sniffed at."

"No Ma'am."

"How are you feeling at the prospect of having DI Burnside in charge?"

She paused at the sudden shift in the direction of the conversation, mindful that the other woman could be laying a trap for her, but ultimately couldn't stop herself from speaking the truth. "I think he'll do a very good job, Ma'am. I don't have any concerns, if that's what you mean."

Kim smiled, "Loyalty appears to be one of your strong suits."

"Yes. I don't necessarily think that's a negative."

"No…I suppose not. From my perspective, I believe I've seen a change in you over these last six months. You've come out of the DI's shadow. I'd like to think you've enhanced your independence of thought."

She sucked her cheeks in slightly, focusing on keeping her mouth closed and not responding. Independence of thought? The fact that the other woman thought she been lacking in that area, even when she was with Frank, erased anything positive she might have felt from her previous words and only seemed to confirm the agenda she suspected Kim had.

"I hope to see you in high places someday," Kim continued.

"That's kind of you to say, Ma'am, thank you."

"Well, I'm sure you've much to be getting on with this afternoon. I don't want to keep you any longer." Kim paused. "I suppose all I can say to you is, good luck."

"And to you, Ma'am."

Closing the door behind her, she let out a long breath, somewhat relieved that the encounter was over. She hadn't missed Kim's veiled criticisms, and, despite everything, she felt irked on Frank's behalf at any suggestion that he wasn't the best person to lead the department. Glancing at her watch, she suddenly realised that she was going to be late for her appointment at the beauty salon and purposefully pushed open the swing doors.

"Where are you going?"

The sound of his voice behind her made her heart sink to her boots, and she turned back to look at him as he came down the corridor towards her, hoping she could deflect the inevitable questions. "Out."

"Well, I gathered that. I'm asking you where?"

"I'm…going to see a snout."

"Which snout?"

"Does it matter?"

He raised his eyebrows at her, "Yes, it matters when I'm asking you a direct question and you're refusing to answer me." He paused. "Is this something to do with Ted?"

"No."

"I don't believe you." She bit her tongue and tried to maintain eye contact with him, well aware that a shifting gaze might lead him to consider her to be untruthful. "Michael thinks he might have found a connection with your assault case. Another woman, Victoria Jennings, was assaulted in a very similar way a few months back in Silverston Road which, if you know your geography, isn't far from Finmore Avenue."

"How similar?"

"At night, in a dark alleyway and he had a knife."

"Was he wearing a balaclava?"

"He attacked her from behind, so she didn't see his face. The investigation stalled because there was nothing to go on, but given this latest attack, I think it would be worthwhile speaking to her again, so I'd like you to go over there and get an updated statement from her, push her a bit, see if she can give you anything extra."

"Ok."

"Today."

She paused, "I'm not going to have time today, not if I'm going to be back to say farewell to the DCI."

"Well, I'm sure you can rearrange your appointment with this snout," he said, "unless he or she is about to give you information that's going to crack a current, high-profile case. Is that what you're telling me is going to happen?"

She paused briefly, well-aware that he would be able to smell the lie. "No, but…"

"Then no buts. This is the address, so get over there and, if you're lucky, you'll be back in time for the presentation." He handed her a slip of paper which, to her dismay, disclosed that Victoria Jenning's address was in completely the opposite direction from the beauty salon. "Well, staring at it isn't going to get you there, is it?"

She toyed with honesty, after all whose good opinion did she crave most, Ted's or Frank's? It was somewhat of a rhetorical question, the answer being nothing short of obvious, but if she was going to try and maintain some distance from him, maintain the position that she wasn't someone who always ran to him or confided in him, reinforced the belief Kim held that she was no longer in his shadow then she needed other allies and breaking Ted's confidence wouldn't score her very highly. "No Guv. I'll get over there now."

"Good girl," he replied before pausing. "You and the others getting ready here before hitting the town?"

"Yes, well it seemed easier than us all going home first."

"I see," he paused again. "Make sure you have a good time. You deserve it."

"Frank?" He turned back, a questioning expression on his face and she fought down the urge to ask him if he cared what she might get up to whilst socialising. "What…um…what are we giving the DCI as a going away present?"

"No idea," he replied, "Jim's handling it."

"Oh well…that inspires a lot of confidence, doesn't it? I mean, he was going to buy me a rape alarm once, until someone told him to think better of it."

He didn't say anything, and she couldn't help but wonder as to his thought process. His eyes flickered over her face and then, without saying anything further, he turned and walked away from her back into the CID office.

XXXX

The girl doing her nails was running late and as she sat in the corner waiting, she couldn't help glancing at her watch every few minutes, wishing that time would slow down. It was already past four and she still had to get to Victoria Jenning's house before the DCI's farewell, not to mention give herself time to get ready to go out. Not that she was that concerned about being there to say goodbye to Kim, not after the comments that had been made earlier, whether presented in a smiling package or not.

She took the time to look around the salon, small as it was, housing four tables with four different girls and two makeup chairs. There was a door near the back which, Ted had told her, was where Mickey and his cohorts would gather. So far, however, it had never opened and there had been no sign of anyone other than the female employees.

Ten minutes later, she finally found herself in a chair, a bored looking dark haired girl chewing gum filing her nails. There was a somewhat awkward silence and she quickly fought for a safe topic of conversation. "Have you been busy today then?"

"Run off my feet," the girl replied. "And four more after you."

"Well, I suppose it's better than sitting around doing nothing."

The girl raised her head and looked at her. "I suppose so. I've not seen you in here before."

"No, I don't really get much time to get my nails done."

"What do you do for a living then?"

"I'm…an accountant," she lied quickly. "Taxes, and the like."

"Sounds fascinating."

"Not really."

"I wasn't being serious."

"I know." She glanced around again. "It's nice in here though. Have you worked here long?"

"Two years, on and off, and it's all right, if that's what you mean."

"Mmmm…" she paused as the front door of the salon opened and a man walked in. He barely glance at her, but there was a vague familiarity about his face which she couldn't quite place. Far from seeming out of place, he walked straight through the salon, opened the door at the back and disappeared inside, closing the door behind him. Immediately, she sensed the atmosphere in the room changing. A certain nervous energy descended and, when she looked down at where the girl was working, she could see that her hands had started to shake. "I'm going out tonight," she said, for something to say. "Haven't been out in ages." The girl said nothing. "We're going to O'Hares', do you know it?"

Before there was any chance for response, the door at the back opened again and the man re-emerged. This time, his gaze cast around the salon, eventually landing on her. She smiled briefly and then averted her eyes back to what was happening in front of her, but she could feel his eyes on her back.

"What colour do you want?" the girl asked, her voice low.

"Oh…um…pink?"

The girl lifted the bottle and shook it, her eyes darting up and then back down again and Christina sensed movement behind her as the man slowly walked the length of the room back to the front door. When he got there, he paused and turned back, catching her gaze again and she suddenly realised where she knew him from. His name was Jimmy Mills, he was one of Mickey Owen's henchmen and she had nicked him, years earlier, in regard to a burglary. He looked at her carefully for a long moment before pushing the door open and leaving the salon.

Instantly, the mood relaxed again, and the girl let out a long breath.

"Friend of yours?" she asked conversationally.

"No, not likely."

Twenty minutes later, as she made her way back to the car, she caught sight of Mills again, hanging around the corner just down from the salon. As she climbed into the driver's seat, she could see that he was watching her and couldn't help but think that it wasn't a good sign.

XXXX

"I think I was rumbled."

"What do you mean, you think you were rumbled?" Ted asked angrily. "Either you were, or you weren't!"

"I think one of Mickey's blokes recognised me, Jimmy Mills. He came in and out the salon whilst I was in there and he gave me a look."

"What kind of look?"

"The kind that suggested he knew who I was. When I was getting back into the car, I saw him standing outside looking at me."

"Well, maybe he fancies you."

"Ted…"

"Chris, this is the best chance we have of nailing Mickey for this. How well do you think Mills knows you anyway?"

"I nicked him back in '86 for that burglary down Docklands way, remember?"

"Vaguely. But even if he knows you're a police officer, it doesn't mean he suspects we're onto them. I mean, even policewomen need to take care of themselves, am I right?"

"Yes, but…"

"Now, I need you to go back there in two days' time when they start shifting the gear. Make another appointment and keep your eyes open."

"And that isn't going to look suspicious?"

"Why should it?

She shook her head. "Even if he doesn't think I'm there officially, they're hardly going to do anything suspect right under my nose, are they?"

"This is Mickey Owen we're talking about," Ted replied. "He's not the brightest bulb in the box."

"Well, he certainly instils enough fear in people; your snout for one."

"Is this a private conversation, or can anyone join in?" Frank asked, suddenly appearing behind Ted, his gaze flicking between them before resting on her. "You speak to Victoria Jennings?"

"Oh, yes Guv," she replied, thinking back on the rather rushed meeting she had had with the woman. "There wasn't an awful lot more she could add to what she had already told us, but she did mention that the suspect had very rough hands."

"So?"

"So, Melissa Gemmell said that when he touched her, his hands were rough, like he was someone who worked with his hands. I know it's not much, but it's something."

"Oh yeah, make sure you ask the collator to give you the cards of every villain on the manor who has rough hands." He rolled his eyes as Brownlow came into the room, in readiness for presenting Kim with her farewell gift.

"I'm sure you'll all join me in congratulating Kim on her promotion to Superintendent, and to say that we'll all miss her bustling presence here at Sun Hill," Brownlow said to the assembled crowd. "Her dedication, her enthusiasm and, most of all, her forward thinking has been a breath of fresh air in this department."

Stood next to Frank as she was, Christina fancied she could almost feel the resentment coming off him in waves.

"We'd like to wish you all the best, Kim, and we'd like you to accept this as a token of our continuing esteem."

"Thank you very much sir, thank you," Kim replied, accepting the wrapped gift from him.

"Well, go on, open it, Ma'am," Frank said.

They all watched as she unwrapped the box and then opened it to reveal a silver tankard. All eyes swivelled towards Jim, and she heard Frank muttered an expletive under his breath.

"Well, I didn't know what else to get her!" he exclaimed defensively. "We always get people tankards, don't we?"

"No Jim, it's very nice," Kim replied. "I shall put it on my mantelpiece next to my…pipe."

"Bloody hell," Viv appeared beside her, her voice close to her ear. "Reckon they should have let you or I pick the gift rather than Jim."

"What would you have bought?"

"I don't know. Not a tankard though, that's for sure. Good to know what either of us can expect if we ever decide to leave Sun Hill." The conversation grew around them. "Shall we make a move then? Get ourselves ready for our big night out? I said we'd meet the others downstairs."

"Yeah," she cast a final look at Frank. "I'm looking forward to it."

XXXX

"Well, this is it then."

"Ma'am," Frank replied, stood as they were at the top of the stairs. "Do you want me to get you a cab?"

"No, I'm being met." Kim paused. "See you in court, perhaps."

"You'll have to catch me first," he muttered, turning back along the corridor towards the CID office where the party was winding down.

"Has Madam left the building?" Ted asked, pouring himself another scotch.

"Yes, and not a moment too soon. Things are going to change around here, mark my words. Here, pour me one of them." He lifted the glass and drained it. "All that flannel about dedication and enthusiasm…you'd think Kim Reid was the first officer to ever have an independent thought." He paused and surveyed the other man. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"With what?"

"You and Christina."

Ted frowned, "I don't know what you mean."

"Now don't give me that. The pair of you have been whispering together all today, not to mention shooting one another furtive glances across the office. If there's something I should know, personally, then I'd rather hear it from you."

"Personally?" Ted looked at him. "What, you think that she and I…?"

"Are you?" he knew deep down that the thought in and of itself was ludicrous, but part of him still needed to hear it said.

"No," Ted glared at him. "I'm not into that sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?"

"You know exactly what I'm referring to. I'll leave that kind of behaviour to you, not to mention the fact that she's not my type and, more than that, I don't enjoy stepping on other men's toes."

"You've had enough flings with married women to make that statement nothing short of untrue."

"Then let me rephrase; I don't enjoy stepping on the toes of men that I respect, as colleagues or as friends." Ted looked at him meaningfully. "You've certainly got more restraint than I would have, under the circumstances."

"Yeah well…" he poured himself another glass, unwilling to go down that path. "So, if it isn't personal, it must be professional, mustn't it? And as DI, never mind as acting DCI, I should know what's going on in my department."

"There's nothing going on," Ted replied. "We were just talking, that's all."

"I see," he surveyed the other man carefully, every instinct within telling him that it was lies but that it would be better to tread carefully than go steaming in, even if he wanted to. "Just remember who you both answer to."

"As if either of us could forget that, sir."

The sound of laughter came floating in from the corridor and Christina and Viv suddenly appeared, making their way over to the table containing the remaining alcohol and pouring themselves generous measures of vodka. She could have been the only person in the room at that moment, such was he drawn to her. She was wearing a black dress, cut short, highlighting the length and shape of her legs. He had good memories of those legs, touching them, feeling them around his waist…she had curled her hair and as he watched it bounce down her back, he remembered running his fingers through it, gripping it just that little bit too tightly when she had asked him to, feeling it brush against his face when she had been on top of him...

"Look at you pair," Jim said, whistling appreciatively at them. "I'm not sure you should be allowed out."

"Why not?" Viv asked.

"Asking for trouble, aren't you?"

"Oh, that's nice," Christina replied. "We can't dress how we want to in case a man can't handle it and decides it's his right to have us?"

"Jim's right," he heard himself say. "You'll have blokes all over you dressed like that." She met his gaze and his groin contracted. "Both of you."

"I reckon we can handle ourselves, Guv," Viv replied. "We're big girls."

"Yeah, well just remember there's a bloke running around out there with a knife and a balaclava who likes to try things on. I don't want to see either of you end up on his list of victims."

"Viv's right," Christina said. "We can handle ourselves, Guv, don't worry. Anyway," she turned to the other woman. "We'd best go get the others."

Laughing and joking, they left the office together and he had to physically stop himself from following her.

"It was bound to happen," Ted observed.

"What was bound to happen?"

"That she would get lonely."

He turned to look at the other man. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that women don't get dressed up like that unless they're looking to attract men and O'Hares' will be full of them, as will ever other bar in the city."

"She's not like that."

"No?"

"No. Besides, that's not what she's about. She's done well the last six months; got her head straight after everything that happened with Stewart, learned how to stand on her own two feet a bit more."

"Yeah, she has, and now's the ideal time for her to dip her toe in the dating pool and see what bites."

"Are you deliberately trying to wind me up?" he asked, lifting his glass and moving into his office, not wanting to give headspace to the thoughts Ted was trying to conjure in his mind.

"No, I'm just saying that you might want to prepare yourself for her finding someone she likes, someone uncomplicated, someone that doesn't come with baggage."

"I don't come with baggage!" the words were out before he could check himself. It was ridiculous to suggest that there was no baggage between him and Christina, even if he might want to think that there wasn't. "Anyway, what she does isn't my concern. I've got my own life to live."

"Mmmm…how is Fiona?"

"Fiona? I haven't seen her in months."

"Whoever then."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, there must be someone," Ted said. "You're not going to expect me to believe that you've spent the entire last six months practicing celibacy, are you?"

He was torn between the truth and a lie. The lie being that he had shagged half a dozen women, more perhaps, over the course of the last six months; the truth being that there had been no-one. "Course not," he replied finally. "I'm just not that interested in broadcasting it, that's all. Discretion, know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Ted nodded. "I know what you mean. Anyway, fancy going for something a little bit stronger?"

"No, you're all right," he replied, sitting down behind his desk and looking at the files that still sat there. "I should make a start on getting to grips with this lot."

"Suit yourself."

One by one, the others drifted out of the office, calling goodnights as they went, the sound of their laughter disappearing down the corridor. He could only imagine the scene downstairs. Christina and the other girls, laughing uproariously as they tipsily made their way out of the station, dressed to kill and ready for the hunt. He tried to remind himself of his earlier thoughts; that if meeting someone made her happy then that was all he wanted for her, but it was the biggest lie he could have told himself. He didn't want her to meet anyone. If she couldn't be with him, then he didn't want her to be with anyone.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his little black book and set it down on the desk in front of him. Half the numbers were probably out of service by now, it had been that long and yet he suddenly found himself desperate for another's touch. In his whole adult life, he couldn't recall any other time when he had gone six months, less even, without being with a woman. Perhaps he'd lost any skills he might have possessed. Perhaps she had taken all that with her when she walked away, when he had forced her to walk away.

"Ah, Frank." He looked up suddenly to see Brownlow standing in the doorway. "Party over, is it?"

"Oh, yes sir."

"And Kim got away all right?"

"Indeed sir."

"Good. Well, you appear to be taking this seriously," Brownlow gestured to his desk. "That's what I like to see."

"Yes sir," he replied, as the other man walked away, and he put his little black book back into his pocket. "Very seriously."

XXXX

She tried hard to join in, to pretend that she wanted men to buy her drinks and compliment her on how she looked, to act as though she hadn't one care in the world but, deep down, it wasn't true. She had known there would be a reaction when she and Viv had walked into the CID room, in fact she had almost wanted there to be, but she hadn't quite expected the look that had been in Frank's eyes. Of course, they had looked at each other over the course of the last six months, often with many feelings unspoken passing between them, but this had been different. There had been a rawness to his gaze, a desperate hunger almost, and she certainly hadn't missed it. Not that she should have expected anything less. Her dress was short, perhaps too short, and she knew herself that she had good legs. It had just been hard to think about anything else in that moment except wrapping them around his waist and having him peel the garment from her. If all truth had been told, she would far rather that be happening, than the somewhat painful small talk that had been taking place over the last half hour.

O'Hares' was packed and it hadn't taken long for a group of men to latch onto them, enough for one each. The others all appeared to be enjoying the attention they were receiving and although Colin, the one who had gravitated towards her, seemed nice enough she had quickly realised that, even after six months, she wasn't in the right frame of mind to contemplate what might happen between them if she were to allow it. At some point, his hand had moved to her leg, and she stared at it as he talked at her, wishing with all her might that he would remove it, yet not feeling able to ask him to.

She remembered Tom, the nice bloke she had met in the club when she had been out with Viv, the one who had suggested they have sex in the toilets. She remembered fleeing to Frank's flat and finding him there with Fiona and, somehow, that was all she wanted to do in that moment. Flee and be with him.

"I think police officers are really sexy," Colin was saying. "You don't have your cuffs with you, do you?"

"No," she replied. "I keep them in my desk."

"Shame." His hand moved slightly higher. "Listen, I'm going to get another drink, do you want one?"

"Ummm…yeah ok. Thanks." The relief she felt when he moved away from her was almost indescribable and though she had told the others in CID that she was a big girl who could handle herself, she was quickly realising that it might be safest all round if she admitted her limitations and called it a night.

"You're not going, are you?" June asked as she lifted her handbag and got to her feet. "Colin seems nice."

"Yeah, he is, but I'm just not really in the mood, that's all. I'd rather it was just us girls."

"Yeah, but getting chatted up by blokes is all part of a girls' night out, isn't it?"

"I know but…"

"You don't have to sleep with him if you don't want to."

"I don't want to," she replied hurriedly. "I don't want to sleep with anyone."

June raised her eyebrows, clearly emboldened by alcohol. "Come on, we all know that's not true. If the DI was here, you'd be off like a shot."

"Well, if he had Gordon Wray with him, I'm sure you would be too," she shot back, instantly feeling remorseful at the look that crossed her friend's face. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I just don't think I'm cut out for this right now, that's all. I'm going to head home."

"Are you sure? I mean, we could get rid of this lot and just carry on ourselves if you'd prefer."

"No, I know you're all having a good time and I don't want to be a killjoy. I'll just go and grab a taxi on the high street. I'll see you tomorrow." She waved in the direction of the others, but they barely acknowledged her, so wrapped up were they in the men who were speaking to them, even Cathy, almost the last person she would have expected.

Pushing her way through the throng of people who were standing in the doorway, she stepped out into the cold night air and pulled her jacket around her as she scanned the road for a taxi. There were none immediately in sight and she began walking down the street, glancing left and right, looking for that elusive orange light. Now that she had made the decision to go home, she had never felt more desperate to be there, to be alone with her thoughts, to think about him…

"Oh, excuse me!" She felt the breath knocked out of her as she collided head on with someone, her head having been turned towards the road, and stumbled slightly backwards. "Oh hello, it's you!"

Righting herself, she squinted at the person she had collided with and saw that it was Matthew Boyden, recently arrived as a new uniformed sergeant and bringing with him somewhat of a reputation. She had had little to do with him over the course of the previous few months, but there had been some tension on the relief due to his behaviour, particularly between him and George.

"Oh, hello Sarge," she replied. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Fancy indeed, and you can drop the Sarge; we are off duty." He gave her a quick look up and down. "You been out partying?"

"Yeah, me and some of the girls were in O'Hares'," she gestured behind her, "but I'm just heading home."

"But it's still early," he replied, glancing at his watch. "I thought you lot in CID were meant to be seasoned party-goers."

"Not really," she laughed. "Besides, it's been a long day."

"I was just going to grab a coffee myself," he said, gesturing across the road to the all-night café. "Fancy joining me?"

"Oh…um…"

"No pressure. Be good to get a steer about how you lot operate upstairs, especially from a woman's perspective."

She hesitated, thinking about her empty flat, versus Colin's cloying attentions in the bar, versus a civilised coffee with a man she was vaguely curious about but had no real interest in. There couldn't be any harm in it and what would she do otherwise except wallow in her memories of a man she wanted but couldn't have. "Yeah," she nodded. "Yeah, that would be nice."