19 November 1992

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Patricia, Happy Birthday to you…"

The usual chorus of whoops and cheers went up as the familiar tune came to an end and though she tried to forget about all the other things swirling around in her brain, it was practically impossible to lose herself, even just for one night. Pat's 50th birthday party was a raucous affair, held in the local community centre and attended by all of her friends and family. Of course, that was what she was now, family. Sometimes it still felt odd to no longer be part of the Church family and, instead, part of the Burnside family. A myriad of long-lost cousins appeared to have come out of the woodwork in the run-up to the event, people that Frank had told her he had forgotten even existed. But she supposed that's what these types of events were for, bringing together family.

To be honest, she hadn't wanted to come at all. Her second sick line had almost run out and she was due back at work on Monday. The part of her that didn't want to face any of it had thought about seeking a further leave of absence, but the part of her that realised the matter had to be dealt with had reminded her that she couldn't put the inevitable off forever. As the party had drawn closer, she couldn't help but feel that she would prefer just to stay at home, curled up on the sofa under a blanket, watching mind-numbing television. But she'd also known that Frank wouldn't have been happy about that, so she had put on some new underwear, a nice dress, done her hair and make-up and tried to appear as though she had no cares at all.

"You all right over here?" Gerry broke into her reverie, draping an arm around her shoulders. "Looks like your glass is empty. I'll get you another."

"Oh no, I'm fine," she protested, but he was over to the bar and back with another white wine before she could say any more and it would have been churlish to refuse it, despite her recent efforts in curbing her alcohol consumption to assist with hopeful pregnancy. "Thank you, it's been a lovely evening so far."

"Yeah, our Pat's enjoyed it which is the main thing." He looked over to where his wife was cutting up her cake. "She's needed it."

"How is she?"

"So-so. Some days are better than others." He paused. "I suppose I thought she would be over it by now but…well, I guess it takes time."

"Yeah, it does, and it's only been eight months." She looked back over to her sister-in-law, suddenly wishing that she had perhaps taken more opportunity to talk to her about what had happened earlier that year. They shared something vaguely in common, after all. But any time they had been in each other's company, Pat had made it pretty obvious that discussion about that night was off the table.

"Anyway, how are you? How's newlywed life?" Gerry turned to her, his expression clearing.

"Are we allowed to still call ourselves that after four months?"

"Of course you are! First year's fair game as far as I'm concerned. I hope he's treating you right."

"Frank? Of course, why wouldn't he?"

"Well, I'm not one to talk, but let's just say it wasn't long after the honeymoon dust had settled that things started to go sour between him and Julie. But then we were all a bit amazed when they got married in the first place."

"Incompatible from the start, he said."

"Absolutely. Trust me, he's won a watch with you. I just hope he realises that." He moved away from her before she had time to answer and she watched as he found Pat, put his arm around her and kissed her, just as a particularly smoochy song came over the DJs decks. As she watched them sway together, as though young and in love once more, she wondered if that would be her and Frank in the future. She knew she had to believe that it was a forever marriage but then, she had thought that about Stewart.

"I hope he wasn't coming onto you."

Frank's voice from behind made her jump, "What? Don't be ridiculous. He's clearly still head over heels in love with your sister." She gestured to where they were dancing together. "How long have they been together now?"

"Must be at least twenty-five years. Life sentence." He put his arm around her waist. "Fancy a dance?" She nodded in acquiescence, and they joined the others on the floor, swaying slowly together. For a moment, they stayed silent, bodies pressed together. "You've put a good face on it tonight, but I can read you like a book."

"How do you mean?"

"You're worried about Monday."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Every time I look at you, I see that faraway look in your eyes. Look, you don't have to go through with it."

"No," she sighed, "I do. I can't keep putting it off."

"I still think you should take your Fed Rep with you when you go to see Ferguson."

She snorted derisively, thinking about PC Vincent Potter and how he made Reg Hollis look like Superman. "I'll pass, thanks. I think he would only make it worse."

"I could try Meadows again."

"There's no point. Besides, he's right. I can't expect the Met to bend over backwards for me if I'm not prepared to stand up and say my piece. I know what to do; complain formally to Ferguson, then if he won't listen, go to Oliver."

"I'm proud of you, you know," he squeezed her gently. "And whatever happens, remember I'm right behind you."

"I know, and I'm grateful. Something tells me my first husband wouldn't have been half as supportive."

"Well, your last one certainly is. I still wouldn't mind having a pop at Norris myself and don't think the time might not come when I could." He smiled on her look. "Anyway, look on the bright side. It won't be long until Christmas, our first proper one together. First of many."

She smiled back as he moved in to kiss her, momentarily forgetting all that was awaiting her. "I can't wait."

XXXX

He hadn't been able to stop looking at her all night. Not just out of concern, because he could tell that she wasn't quite right within herself, preparing to face what he knew she would confront on Monday morning, but also because she was, by far, the best-looking woman in the place, by a mile. Not that he wanted to do his sister down in any way on what was supposed to be her big night, but she couldn't hold a candle to his wife. He felt his eyes track her every movement when she wasn't beside him and, when she was, he found his hands straying to touch her, not that she seemed to mind. He couldn't recall ever looking at Julie in that way and no other passing flame had conjured such feelings within. When he thought on it, he was surprised it had taken as long as it had for him to tell her how he felt, or at least get her into bed, but then he had to remind himself that circumstances hadn't exactly been straightforward.

She entered the flat first, dropping her keys in the bowl by the door and sliding out of her heels, before making her way into the kitchen. "Do you want another drink?" she called back to him. "Or tea or something?"

"Or something…" he teased, following her, "something I've been looking forward to all night."

"And what might that be?"

"What do you think? The opportunity to come home and make love to the best-looking woman in Sun Hill."

"Just Sun Hill?"

"All right, London, the Home Counties, England…" he moved up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. "The UK…the world…"

"The planet…the solar system…?"

"Aren't we full of self-confidence?" He kissed her neck gently. "Did I tell you how good you looked tonight?"

"No…"

"You…looked…incredible…" he punctured each word with a kiss to her skin. "I was having dirty thoughts about spiriting you away to the bogs earlier."

"Such a romantic," she twisted her head round so that he could kiss her mouth. "I'm pretty sure there's laws against such behaviour."

"Do you know…" he moved her round to face him, "how many times over the years I watched you in that CID office and imagined doing all sorts of unspeakable things to you?"

"And there was me thinking our relationship was borne out of love, not lust."

"Yeah well, being in love with the person you lust after just makes it ten times better, doesn't it?" Pushing her gently back against the kitchen counter, he pressed his abdomen against her, so she could be in little doubt of how he felt. "Remember that day we had sex on Meadows's desk?"

"Hard to forget. I kept thinking someone was going to burst through the door and catch us. Though we never did get around to doing it on yours, did we?"

"Bloody Tosh. If he hadn't come in that first night, bumping his gums about the pool cars, I think we both know what would have happened."

"Maybe."

"No maybe about it. I'd have been inside you within ten seconds if we'd been left alone."

"Well, the sex later that night at your place was pretty good."

"Pretty good? It was bloody outstanding."

"It's funny how many things have changed since then."

"It might have been a bit of a bumpy road, but we got there in the end."

"Did we?"

He paused, halfway to kissing her again, and pulled back, "Don't you think so? We're together, we're married, we don't work together anymore so no-one's giving us grief…"

She sighed, "I know that this Christmas is certainly going to be better than last Christmas, given I was on my own, and the Christmas before that I was in Leicester wishing I was with you…"

"But?"

"It's hardly smooth sailing right now, is it? What with this thing with Norris hanging over me, not to mention the investigation into what happened with Abdul and…and I'm not pregnant."

"Granted, the work situations are tricky but, as far as being pregnant is concerned, we've only been married four months, and you said the doctor told you it could take time."

"I know she did, but I'm a bit impatient about it."

"But why? We've got all the time in the world to have kids. Don't you think we should be focusing more on enjoying finally, legally, properly being together right now with no-one questioning us? Kids change things." As much as he wanted a family with her, he had to admit that he was enjoying the fact that it was just the two of them.

A flicker crossed her face, but she quickly smoothed it away and smiled, upturning her face towards his. "Well then, I suppose we should make the most of it."

Further encouragement was not required, at least not on his part. Gently guiding her backwards down the hallway and into the bedroom he could already feel the slight dampness of precum in his boxers. He could only hope he wasn't turning into one of those men approaching middle-age who couldn't keep a lid on it. Nothing worse than it lasting a mere five seconds. Closing the door behind him, he turned to watch her tantalisingly unzip the back of her dress and let it slide to the floor, only to find himself accosted by the sight of her in a lacy black two-set that he didn't recall seeing before.

"Have you been wearing that all night?" he asked, the words out of his mouth before he realised how ridiculous they sounded. "You should have told me; would have turned me on even more. Might not have even made it to the bogs."

"I don't think you need any more turning on, do you?" She stepped back as he moved towards her. "Ah, ah, ah…no touching. Get your kit off and get on the bed."

"Taking charge, are we?"

"Something like that." She kept her eyes on him as he quickly disrobed and then climbed onto the bed. "Now Inspector, I want you to relax…"

Despite the contradiction between her demands and the way he knew she was really feeling, he found himself quite unable to do anything other than what she asked, watching as she climbed onto the bed and slid on top of him. Instinctively, his hands went to touch her, but she pulled back again and fixed him with a frosty look, before sliding back down his body and kissing his erect shaft. Over the course of the next few minutes or so, he found himself completely overcome with blissfulness as she continued to work him with a combination of her mouth and hands. Right at the point where he was convinced he was going to spurt all over her, she stopped and moved away from him off the bed,

"I've never been one to force a woman into sex," he heard himself say slightly breathlessly, "but if you don't get your knickers off and get back over here, I'm not sure that I'll be responsible for my actions."

With a smile, she unclipped her bra and let it fall from her body, before slowly – too slowly in his view – sliding the knickers down her legs and onto the floor. A low growl of frustration left his throat and he reached for her, pulling her onto the bed to sit astride him, groaning as she sank down onto him, his mouth going instinctively to her breasts. They moved together slowly at first, her hand reaching out to steady herself with the headboard and he pulled back to look up at her, gratified that she looked and sounded aroused, but still conscious that there was something underneath.

"Look at me," he said, and she opened her eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too." She kept her gaze locked with his as their movements became more urgent until he felt the unmistakable pull of orgasm and pushed harder and faster up inside her, feeling himself unload. As they slowed, she pulled him closer to her so that her chin was resting on top of his head, and he wrapped his arms around her body as he breathed himself back to normality. Once still, she gently slid him out of her, swinging her legs over his body and lying on her back on the bed beside him. "I'm guessing you enjoyed that."

"Too right," he replied, rolling over onto his side and looking down at her. "Now then…let's see what we have here…" He moved his hand onto her stomach, his fingers drawing circles on her skin before heading slowly southwards to stroke the soft hairs on her abdomen.

"You don't have to," she said.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, I'm not sure if I'm feeling…" her sentence cut off as his fingers slowly dipped lower, probing inside her and brushed against her clitoris.

"You sure?" he teased. "You feel pretty good from here."

"Mmmm…" she gasped as he increased the pressure and he found himself transfixed, watching the looks pass across her face as he continued to work her into an orgasmic frenzy, breaking only to kiss her as she let out her final groan and then slumped back into the bed. "I can't believe I spent so many years enduring substandard sex…."

"He must have made you come, surely?"

"Sometimes, and only ever after he'd come first. He certainly wasn't as good as it as you are."

He fought down the urge to remind her that he'd had plenty of practice. "Sorry, was it rude of me to go first this time?"

"No, not at all." She rolled over to face him, their legs entwining, and they simply looked at each other for a long moment before she smiled. "I'm starving."

Laughing, he rolled away from her. "Fancy some cheese on toast?"

"Ooh, yes please."

Pulling boxers and a t-shirt back on, he left her in the bedroom and made his way back to the kitchen, whistling as he set about making their post-coital feast. Party food was all good and well, but it never truly filled you up. Ten minutes later, he was watching the bread and cheese bubble under the grill, when he heard her coming in behind him.

"You do want kids, don't you?" she asked, the suddenness of the question surprising him.

"Yeah, of course I do. Why?"

"It was just…what you said earlier, about kids changing things."

"Well, they do, don't they? You can't be selfish, you have to put them first, you can't as easily just go out and do stuff, they're expensive…" he turned to look at her. "Why are you asking?"

"Well…I mean…it's what I want."

"Yeah, I know."

"No, I mean, I really do want to have kids. It's a…well, I suppose a dealbreaker for me and…if you're not sure then…"

"Then what?" he asked, switching off the grill and pulling the tray out. "I've already said I'm sure about it. We're having unprotected sex every time, including tonight…what more do you want me to say about it?"

"I just don't want you to get cold feet. I don't want to be a single mother."

"Christina…if you become pregnant, I'm not going to leave you. I'm your husband. You would never be a single mother as long as I was able to be around." He slid his arms around her waist. "Where is this coming from anyway?"

"I don't know," she shook her head. "Just being silly I guess."

"Yeah, ridiculous. Grab us some plates out of the cupboard, will you?" He waited as she retrieved them, then slid the toast onto each. "Right, get that down you." Smiling gratefully, she carried her plate into the living room, and he watched as she curled herself onto the couch, musing on what possible scenario she had conjured in her head that would ever lead him to walk away from her or their child.

21 November

"I'm sorry, I'm not entirely sure that I understand what you're saying."

Taking a deep breath, she looked Ferguson in the eye and repeated her story, watching as his brows knitted together in confusion.

"I still don't understand what you're saying," he repeated. "Granted, the comment about you and your husband might have been in poor taste, but I don't see what your problem is."

"My problem, sir, is that the DI made a suggestion that sleeping with him would be the way to secure his support in whatever investigation might follow into what happened at that house."

"Well, that's not true for a start. You have Peter's support regardless. He's your DI."

"That's not how I took what he said."

"In any event, speaking of the investigation…."

"No sir, I'd rather discuss my complaint."

"Complaint?" he sat back in his chair and looked at her. "You want to make an official complaint about a throwaway remark?"

"It wasn't a throwaway remark. After he made the comment about what I must have between my legs to keep my husband, he then suggested that 'gratitude' went a long way towards securing his support. It's…it's two separate things when you look at it like that."

"And I've already acknowledged that the comment about your husband was in poor taste, but this is a police station, Christina. There's such a thing as banter and bawdy humour. Quite frankly, if you don't understand that, you shouldn't be here, and you've been in the job long enough to know that. If you want me to speak to Peter about that particular comment, then I will. But I doubt it'll win you many favours around the office."

She paused, knowing that he was right and able to acknowledge that if that had been her only grievance, she would have let it lie. But the subsequent insinuation made by him refused to go away. "I'm not asking you to do anything about that comment, sir. I'm more concerned about…"

"Yes, about what you perceive he meant about gratitude." Ferguson sighed and shook his head. "It might have escaped your notice, Christina, having previously had two men want you at the same time, but not every officer in every police station in London wants to have sex with you. Peter is a happily married man, and I don't believe for one moment that he would have the slightest interest in going to bed with you. But if you'd like me to bring him in here and ask him…"

"I'm asking you to deal with this under the appropriate policy."

"By doing what?"

"Formally investigating it."

"Right, so I take a statement from you, I take a statement from Peter and….then what? This entire thing is going to boil down to a matter of perception. You'll say you took his comment to mean one thing, he'll say he meant another. Stalemate. Case closed. End of. Then you have to go back and work under him and, I have to be honest, I wouldn't like that if I were him. Besides, I have many more pressing things that need my attention than the meaning you've ascribed to something he said."

"So, you're not going to do anything?"

"Your energies would be better spent thinking on how you're going to answer questions about what happened in the lead up to the hostage situation at the Patel house, and the decision you made not to arrest Mr Patel the night before."

"You can't threaten me with that in order to shut me up."

"I'm not trying to shut you up; I'm trying to be realistic." Ferguson sat back. "You didn't exactly come here with a spotless reputation…"

"My work here has been good."

"Has it? There's a bloke who got stabbed that might disagree."

"I wasn't the one who stabbed him."

"No, but you knew that there was a credible threat, and you didn't take steps to secure him."

"You're making it sound far more…"

"What, serious? It is serious, Christina. Mr Patel could have died."

"Peter Norris approved my decision not to arrest Mr Patel."

"Yes, the same Peter Norris you're now trying to say was sexually inappropriate towards you. You can't have it both ways. Either he's a credible asset to you during this investigation or he's someone you don't trust."

"Both matters should be kept separate."

"Yes, well that's often very difficult. I'm sorry, but I can't see that Peter has done anything wrong here, so I see no reason for any formal investigation."

It was little more than she had expected. "Fine, then I'll take my concerns to Superintendent Oliver."

He paused and regarded her carefully. "Are you trying to completely fuck up your career?"

"No sir."

"Well, you're acting as if you are. You should be trying to make and keep friends here, Christina, not alienate people. You think anyone in CID is going to back up what you're saying? If they even understand your point, which I still don't. Peter Norris has an unblemished record. I can't say the same about you, or your husband for that matter."

"My husband has nothing to do with it."

"Really? I'm surprised he's not been down here trying to knock seven shades of shit out of Peter if this is all true. That would be his style."

She got to her feet, aware that the conversation appeared now to be in danger of completely derailing. "This is the nineteen nineties, sir. We don't live in the good old days anymore when men can get away with whatever they want in the force and women won't stand up against it. There are standards of behaviour that should be maintained."

"Well, that's a laugh. You're married to the biggest womanising chancer the Met's ever seen, a man who was your boss, a man you had an affair with and you're in here preaching to me about standards? Go on then, take your complaint to Oliver if you want. See if he reacts any differently to me. But I reckon he'll see this for exactly what it is."

"Which is what?"

"You attempting to deflect attention away from yourself over the hostage situation. You might have convinced your doctor, but do you really think I'm stupid enough to believe you've been too ill to work over the last few weeks?" She swallowed an angry retort. "No, I didn't think so. Hold on," he said, as she made to open the door. "I haven't finished. As of now, you are formally suspended from duty pending the investigation into your conduct regarding the arson enquiry."

"Suspended? What, because I've made a complaint?"

"No, you were always going to be suspended. But you might want to think about whether you'd like to make it worse for yourself by pursuing this ridiculous complaint." He held out his hand. "Warrant card, please."

For a moment, she simply stared at him, suddenly realising that everything that had ever been said about Barton Street was true. Then she reached into her bag, pulled out her warrant card and tossed it onto his desk.