"So, what's it like being a woman in Sun Hill CID," Matthew asked as they sat at a table near the window.

"Much like I would imagine it is in any CID department," she replied, stirring sugar into her coffee.

"Yeah, but there's hardly any of you, is there. It's only you and Viv Martella."

"Well, there was DCI Reid."

"Yeah, but she's an exception. Not many of her like about." He paused. "You enjoy it?"

"For the most part, yes."

"So, you don't miss the uniform then."

She paused, thinking back to her time on the beat. It seemed so long ago now, a whole different life. CID had been all she'd known for years. "No."

"How long have you been at Sun Hill now?"

"Must be…coming up for seven years." She looked at him. "How are you enjoying your new posting?"

"It has its ups and downs," he replied.

"I'll say. You've not had the best start."

"No, but that's the thing about reputations; they're not always accurate. I find it's best to get to know the person first before making a judgement. I mean, people think I'm a ladies' man, lazy, only ever looking to get my leg over, but it's not necessarily true."

"Not necessarily true?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I was a monk, but there you go." He looked at her over the rim of his cup. "I could imagine you might say the same about your reputation."

She paused, "My reputation?" He nodded. "What reputation do I have?"

"Well, being a bit of a slag."

A profound wave of shock washed over her, the mug in her hand suddenly seemed too heavy to hold and it clattered down onto the table, spilling a good portion of its contents in the process. She sat, numbly, as he grabbed napkins and began soaking up the brown liquid spreading between them, aware that people had talked about her, about her and Frank, but never realising it had been quite that bad. "People think I'm a slag?"

"Well…no, but…"

"But what?"

"Sleeping with a senior officer does tend to get tongues wagging a bit. But listen, you'll get no criticism from me. I'm not exactly the clean potato as far as inappropriate relationships go. That's why I got shipped over here."

"No-one's ever called me a slag."

"Well, they wouldn't, would they? Not to your face."

"Who called me a slag?"

"Look, I don't think it really matters…"

"It matters to me!" Hot tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. All the progress that had seemingly been made over the last six months, all the time spent in counselling, all the work she had done to make herself feel better, to tell herself that, in essence, she wasn't the one who had done something wrong, gone in the space of a few moments. "You don't know anything about me."

"I never called you a slag," he replied quickly. "It's just gossip, that's all. Folk said that you'd cheated on your husband with the DI and, well…I mean, it's true, isn't it?"

She looked down into the remains of her coffee and shook her head. If this was all she was ever known for, then there was no chance of her ever climbing any career ladders. She might as well bin the idea of the sergeants' exam right there. "Yes, I had an affair with him. No, I'm not a slag. A slag would be someone who put herself about, who slept with anyone and everyone. I haven't done that!" She glared at him. "If you really want to know, my husband and Frank Burnside are the only two men I've ever been to bed with!" The moment the words left her mouth, she felt ridiculous. Why was she bothering to try and justify herself to him? Someone who had an even worse reputation than she apparently did. But then, it was all right for men. Casual sex was their birth right after all. People only judged Frank for the fact that he had been her boss, not for the fact he'd been intimate with her.

"You don't have to get all worked up about it," Matthew said. "Doesn't matter a jot to me who you've slept with. Like I said, I prefer to get to know the person, rather than just go on the reputation. Anyway, how come you're heading home at eleven o'clock when you're supposed to be out partying with the girls?"

She pushed the anger back down her throat and shook her head, "I'm tired, that's all. Like I said, it's been a busy day."

"That the only reason?"

"What other reason would there be?"

"You said you were in O'Hares."

"So?"

"Classic hook up territory, that place. People only go there if they're looking for one thing."

She shivered slightly, remembering Colin's hand on her leg. "Yeah, well I wasn't looking for that. I just wanted a girls' night out, that's all."

"Nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with having a bit of fun neither. Your husband's inside now, isn't he?" She nodded. "And your affair with Burnside's over, isn't it?" She nodded again. "So?"

"So, maybe I'm just not interested. Maybe I don't need a man," she looked at him squarely.

He nodded, "I admire that. A woman not afraid to stand on her own two feet. Mind you, trailblazing your way through CID has obviously helped you with that."

"I'd hardly call being a WDC trailblazing."

"You should go for Sergeant. I mean, if I can pass the exam…" he left the comment dangling and she found herself smiling in spite of all that had been said. "That's better. Much prettier when you smile."

"I sat the exam a couple of years ago and failed, but I was thinking of going for it again this summer."

"You should."

"Yeah…" she glanced at her watch. "I really should be getting home. Like I said…"

"It's been a long day, I know." He drained his mug and got to his feet. "Come on, I'll find you a taxi."

She opened her mouth to protest and then shut it again, allowing him to lead the way to the door and hold it open for her. The chill of the night air hit her once again and she shivered. "Christ, it's cold."

"Yeah, no sign of spring yet," he agreed. "Come on, if we head up this way you've a better chance of catching one before they hit the high street." Together, they began walking up the road, leaving behind the bustle of the shops, restaurants, bars and cafes and heading into a slightly quieter area.

"I'm sorry," she said, as they crossed the road. "I didn't mean to have a go at you back there."

"That's all right. I shouldn't have alluded to the fact that you're a slag, not the first time we chat anyway."

She winced at the words. "I'm not sure it's a chat up line you should try too often."

"Who says I was chatting you up?"

"Oh…no…" she suddenly felt embarrassed. "I wasn't…I mean…" her words were suddenly cut off by the sound of a piercing scream coming from the road behind them, followed by someone shouting desperately for help. Without thinking, she ran in the direction of the noise, Matthew close behind and, as they turned into a nearby alleyway, saw a man in a balaclava pressing a woman up against the wall, the glint of a knife visible through the darkness. "Oi, you! Police!" At the sound of her voice, the man started, pushed himself away from the woman and began running in the opposite direction.

"You see to her!" Matthew said, charging past in pursuit.

"Are you all right?" she asked, approaching the woman who was trembling and crying. "It's all right, I'm a police officer…"

"He tried…he tried…"

"Ok, just try and calm down," she put her hand on the woman's arm. "Take a deep breath, in and out…that's right…and again…can you tell me your name?"

"Becky…Becky Thomson."

"Ok Becky, my name's Christina. I want you just to come over here with me," Gently, she guided the other woman to a low wall and helped her to sit down. "You're safe now, I promise." Becky nodded, then burst into noisy sobs. "It's all right, just let it all out…" the sound of approaching feet made her look up sharply, only in time to see Matthew coming towards her from the other end of the alleyway. "Anything?"

"No," he shook his head. "Bastard got away. She all right?"

"She will be, but we need to call this in. Looks like this could be the guy responsible for a couple of attacks I've been looking into. Balaclava, knife, attempted rape…" she shook her head. "Lucky we were here."

"Oh yeah," Matthew replied, clearly thrilled at the prospect of how his next few hours were going to be spent. "Very lucky."

XXXX

"She's what?" Frank clutched the phone receiver in disbelief.

"Like I said," Bob repeated. "Christina's called in an attempted rape in the lane off Dunsmuir Road. There's a car on the way, but I figured you'd want to know."

"I do want to know, thank you. Did she say anything else?"

"Just that the victim's a young woman in her twenties, making her way home apparently. She's pretty shaken up and they're waiting on an ambulance."

"Right, if she calls back, tell her I'm on my way." Hanging up the phone, he grabbed his keys and hurriedly made his way out of the CID office and down to the yard to his car. Traffic was fortunately light, and it didn't take long to reach the scene and whilst his concern was obviously for the victim, he couldn't help wondering how Christina had managed to land herself in such a situation when she was supposed to be out socialising. When he arrived, there were a few people milling around, clearly curious as to why there was an ambulance and a police car in the area. Dave and Steve were speaking to some of them and, just at the entrance to the alleyway, he could see Christina sitting with a young female who was being tended to by a paramedic.

Upon seeing him, she excused herself and came over to greet him. "Guv."

"What's been happening here then?"

"The victim's called Becky Thomson, twenty years of age. She was on her way home from a friend's house when she cut down the alleyway here and a man grabbed her from behind. He pushed her against the wall and threatened her with a knife."

"He spoke to her then?"

"Not really, just stuck the knife in her face and told her to shut up. She couldn't see his face at any point. Anyway, Sergeant Boyden and I had just come out of the café and were…"

"Boyden?"

"Yeah," she replied, gesturing over her shoulder to where he could see the other man talking to the ambulance driver. "We were looking for a taxi when we heard a scream and came upon the attack in progress. I stayed with the victim and Sergeant Boyden gave chase, but he lost him." She looked at him. "What?"

"Looking for a taxi, were you?"

"Yeah, I was heading home. I'd left the others in the bar, and I ran into Matt. We had a quick coffee, and he was helping me…"

"So, it's Matt, is it?" He could hear the disdain in his own voice, borne from the feeling currently working its way around his gut. Her jacket was open, despite the coolness of the evening air, and he was afforded another look at her outfit, at the way it clung to her body, a body he had once enjoyed and took no pleasure in thinking another might, especially not someone like Matthew Boyden. His gaze clearly gave him away, however, as she pulled the jacket closed around her. "Cosy coffee for two, was it? What happened to the others?"

"I told you, I left them in the bar, and I was heading home…"

"Yeah, when you just happened to run into Matt."

She blinked, "What's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem," he said, turning away. "Make sure you get a proper statement off of her."

"You obviously do have a problem," she followed him, "otherwise you wouldn't be acting like this."

"Acting like what?" he turned back to face her. "It's none of my business who you have coffee with, is it? If you want to put yourself about…"

"I beg your pardon…!"

"Well, let's not pretend you're wearing that dress for yourself now, shall we? You and Viv looked like a couple of streetwalkers when you came into CID earlier. If you want to dress like a slag then I suppose you're going to attract attention from certain types of men, aren't you? Like Matt."

"I am not dressed like a slag!" she exclaimed angrily, "nor am I one!"

"Yeah? Going home with the likes of him will only give you a certain reputation, darling."

"Well, according to him I already have a certain reputation, sir, and it seems to have come from sleeping with you! Not to mention the fact that I was not going home with him! We'd had a coffee and he was simply helping me find a taxi!"

"Something you're clearly incapable of doing on your own." He knew he was being unreasonable and yet, somehow, couldn't seem to stop himself. Boyden, of all people… cosy chats…the jealousy was almost too much. "So much for taking time to work on yourself, to get over what happened with Stewart, to focus on your career."

"What?"

"It hasn't taken you long, has it? Mind you, you were willing enough for me, why shouldn't you be just as willing for somebody else?" The slap came before he had time to anticipate it, stinging his cheek and causing him to step back.

"You bastard," she said, her voice trembling, her eyes glassy. "How dare you, you bastard."

"Uh…excuse me Guv?"

He whirled around to see Dave standing behind him, looking uncomfortable. "What?"

"Steve and I have spoken to everyone hanging around, well the ones sober enough to talk at any rate. No-one saw anything useful, unfortunately."

"Well, someone in the nearby area must have seen or heard something," he replied. "So, get a house to house started."

"Yes Guv," Dave's eyes shifted between them before he moved away again.

"For your information," she said, when he turned to look at her again, "there has been no-one, no-one, since you. I haven't wanted there to be, though now I'm not so sure why." Before he had a chance to respond, she turned on her heel and walked back over to Becky, deliberately keeping her back to him.

"Everything all right Guvnor?" Matthew came towards him, his hands thrust into his pockets, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "Bit of a temper on her, that one. Perhaps she needs a new reputation as a wildcat."

He'd heard nothing good about the other man, affairs with a probationer and a WDC having led him to Sun Hill, not to mention the occasion he had been on patrol with George and allowed the constable to take a beating because he was too busy trying to get his leg over with a bit of stuff. Of course, going by his own performance, he might have appeared no better, something he was fairly sure Matthew would be thinking right at that moment.

"You'll have to provide a statement, as will she," he heard himself say, his voice calmer than he felt.

"Yeah, of course, nasty business. Good thing she and I were here."

"Oh yeah, definitely a good thing."

"She up for grabs then?"

He stared at the other man. "What?"

"Christina, is she up for grabs? I mean, she's good looking and I like a woman with a bit of fire about her, know what I mean?" The supercilious smile seemed to grow bigger, and he was half tempted to land a punch of his own.

"You outrank her."

"Yeah, but that doesn't seem to be a problem at Sun Hill, does it? Besides, she said she's going for sergeant again this summer so…"

"Did she now?" he glanced back over to her. "You did have a nice chat, didn't you?"

"Well, I can't complain," Matthew shuffled his feet, "Sir."

"You do what you like, Sergeant. Nothing to do with me." He turned back towards the car, getting in in time to see Matthew wander back over to where Christina still stood and put his hand on her shoulder. He knew he should just drive away but he found himself transfixed, watching as she turned to look at him, as he pointed at something and she nodded, as they smiled together, almost like conspirators. Well, if she wanted someone like Boyden, she was welcome to him. Starting up the engine, he slammed the gearstick into first and pulled away from the kerb, making more noise than he intended but leaving no doubt behind as to his feelings.

XXXX

She watched as his taillights disappeared around the corner and let out a long breath, feeling adrenaline course though her. She wasn't sure if it was from foiling the attack or her confrontation with him, but she suddenly shivered and pulled her jacket more tightly around her.

"I don't think she needs to go to hospital," the paramedic told her. "Home and into bed will do her more good, I reckon."

"Becky, is there someone I can call for you, so that you're not on your own?" Christina asked.

"I've got a flatmate," Becky replied. "I won't be on my own."

"Ok, the uniformed officers will give you a lift and I'll be in touch tomorrow about taking a full statement from you. If you could keep the clothes you're wearing separate and don't wash them, then we might be able to get some forensics, but we can discuss that in the morning."

Becky nodded, then regarded her carefully. "That man."

"What man? The one who attacked you?"

"No, the one you slapped. I take it you know him?"

"Oh him…" she felt her face flush in the dim light. "Yes, he's my boss, though we don't make a habit in the police force of striking our senior officers."

"Some of them deserve it though," Matthew chimed in.

"Wow," Becky laughed tentatively. "I never would have expected that."

"Well, let's just say I'm not proud of it."

"Has he got some sort of issue?" Matthew asked as Steve and Dave led Becky to their car.

"Who?"

"Burnside. I mean, what did he say to you?"

She thought back on his words and the look on his face and felt her insides crumble once more. "Nothing."

"Well, if he reports you, you'll have to come up with something better than nothing."

"He won't report me. If he did, he'd have to say what he said to me and he wouldn't want to do that."

"So, what did he say?"

She looked at Matthew, at the eagerness of his expression, clearly keen to gobble up even the smallest crumb of gossip that he could use to curry favour with the relief and realised that there was no way she could ever consider him anything more than what he was; a sergeant at her nick. He certainly wasn't a friend. "Like I said, nothing."

Half an hour later, as the taxi dropped her off at her flat and she locked the front door behind her, her gaze fell on the phone in the living room and before she could stop herself, she strode over towards it and lifted the receiver. His office number rang out, unsurprisingly given the hour, and so she cut the call and redialled his home number, her finger hovering momentarily over the last digit. It rang out once, twice, three times and she was about to hang up when his voice came over the line.

"Hello?"

For a moment, she considered hanging up anyway, then anger at what he had suggested took over and all the things she had wanted to say in public but couldn't came spilling out. "You had no right to say to me what you did tonight, no right at all! How dare you suggest that I'm some sort of prostitute! Someone who just offers herself to the first bloke that shows any interest! You had no right saying that! You know me! You know you know me! How could you even think…?"

"Is this the full novel I'm getting or the abridged version?"

His words brought her up short, "What?"

"Because if it's the full novel, I could probably do with taking a slash before you go any further."

Her heart thudded wildly in her chest. "You're not even sorry, are you?"

"For what? Commenting on what I saw? You having a cosy little chat at eleven o'clock at night with Matthew Boyden?"

"It was only a coffee!"

"Telling him that you were going for sergeant again?"

She paused, "He told you?"

"Then it's true?"

"Well, I was thinking about it…"

"You might have told me."

"Don't change the subject. You had no business…"

"Much like you had no business raising your hand to me in the street. If a member of the public decides to report that, we'll both be for the high jump – again – not to mention the fact it's probably already all round the relief."

"Yeah, well you asked for it."

"Funny how that wouldn't wash if it was the other way around, isn't it? Anyway, from what he said, Boyden's got a little fancy for you and who am I to stand in the way of true love."

"Oh, don't be so ridiculous! I don't fancy Matthew Boyden!"

"No?"

"Of course not! Or am I not allowed to talk to any other men without you presuming something's going on between us?" He said nothing. "I told you the truth; there has been no-one in the last six months and I'm not interested in there being anyone. And it is not fair for you to tell me, or any woman for that matter, that she's a slag because of the way she dresses! I bet you wouldn't have complained if I'd dressed like that for you, would you?" Again, he said nothing. "Frank?"

"What?"

"Well, would you?"

"You did dress like that for me though, didn't you? You and Viv didn't need to come into the CID office before you went out. You wanted me to see you in that dress, wanted a reaction from me." She felt herself blush at the truth of his words, at the fact that he had seen through her. "Well, congratulations, you got one. Might not have been the one you wanted, but you got it nonetheless."

"So, if I came round there right now, you'd turn me down?"

"Of course I wouldn't turn you down. I wouldn't turn any woman down that came to my door wearing as little as you are. No bloke would, that's my point. Boyden would have you on your back in five seconds flat if he thought you wanted him."

"I don't want Matthew Boyden! I want…" she broke off quickly, well aware of how close she was teetering to the edge, how the slightest breath could push her over and shatter the fragile equilibrium of the previous six months. They had parted still loving each other, things had been all right, things were stable, things were good but… "He said I've got a reputation as a slag. Is that something you've put about?"

"Oh, that's just great, isn't it? Yeah, I'm the one to blame. I've gone around whispering in everybody's ear about you. You think it would do me any good to have people think you were only involved with me because you were easy?"

"No."

"Well then." He paused. "Look, I'm sorry I alluded to you being a slag, but you've got to see it from my point of view. There you are, all dressed up, looking to attract other men. What am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to think that I was going out to have a good time and that I'd made myself look nice to make myself feel good, and for no other reason!"

"You expect me to believe that? No woman gets herself all tarted up to make herself feel good."

"Shows how little you know about women then, doesn't it?"

"So, there wasn't anybody then, Boyden aside, that you were chatting up in O'Hares'?" She paused, thinking back on Colin and his hand on her leg. "I thought as much."

"What if I was? What if was talking to some bloke? What if he was chatting me up? You're not my boyfriend, my husband, my keeper…I don't have to answer to you."

"Yeah, and that was your choice, remember?"

"You didn't try to talk me out of it."

"No, I didn't."

"You actively encouraged me to walk away from you!"

"Yes, I did."

"So you don't get to turn around now and make me feel bad because other men might find me attractive just because you're jealous!" There was a long pause and she felt herself hold her breath, wondering if he would agree or disagree.

"Oh, grow up, Christina, we're not fifteen."

"You…hello? Hello? Frank?" the dial tone sounded in her ear, and she realised he had hung up on her. Thumping the receiver back into its cradle, she realised once more that she was shaking. Angrily, she strode through to the kitchen, pulled a bottle of vodka from the cupboard and poured herself a generous measure, topping it up with the bare minimum of mixer before knocking it back in one go. Did he still feel anything for her? Was he jealous about her mixing with other men, or did he really think she was presenting herself as easy pickings? Did he honestly think that she could contemplate being with anyone else?

"I love you. I'll always love you."

It was what she had told him when they had parted and even now, six months later and faced with his unkind words, it had never felt truer.