26th February 1989

Christina pulled into the first available parking space and turned off the engine, but Frank made no move to get out of the car. He simply sat where he was, staring out of the window at an unidentifiable spot in the distance. His conversation since they had left the station had been virtually non-existent and though she had tried to talk about unrelated matters, she hadn't wanted to push him in terms of discussing where they were going. He had looked no better that morning than any other morning of late and she couldn't help but feel concerned for him.

"We don't have to go in," she said after a moment's silence and continued hesitation on his part. "Not if you really don't want to. No one would think anything about it."

"They'd think I was too ashamed to show my face," he replied, his tone flat. "Using police work as an excuse not to be there for her, yet again."

"No-one thinks that."

"Jackie and Kevin do."

She paused. "They feel guilty and they're looking for someone to blame. You know, and I know, that there was nothing you could have done."

"I could have phoned her back," he said, looking at her for the first time, his expression nothing short of bereft.

"And you've only got Palmer's word that she even called you in the first place," she reminded him. "For all we know, she never bothered. For all we know, she was too busy going mad with her mother's credit card. You can't..." she broke off as he suddenly opened the door and got out of the car, slamming it shut behind him. Swiftly she followed suit, hurrying to catch up with him at the entrance to the church. "Frank!" He stopped and turned back to look at her. "You can't keep blaming yourself for this."

Without even so much as a flicker of understanding of what she had said, he turned back again and stepped inside the church, leaving her to trail in his wake and, after having lifted an order of service, join him in the very back pew. The congregation looked sparse and it made Christina wonder, yet again, what kind of a girl Tracy had been. It was too simplistic to say that all suicides were selfish, but it was a view that she knew many subscribed to and she found her feelings on the matter swaying between sympathy for the dead girl and anger for the pain she had left behind for so many people.

The thought brought her up sharply and she glanced at Frank out of the corner of her eye, feeling the anguish he was going through coming off him in waves. She wished that there was something else she could say, something she could do, to try and reinforce to him that it wasn't his fault, and yet she knew that anything she said or did wouldn't help. The last funeral she had been at had been her own mother's and at least there she had had Stewart for support. Frank only had her, and she wasn't exactly in the best position to comfort him, even if she did find herself tempted to reach for his hand, as inappropriate in so many circumstances as that would have been.

"At least Palmer won't be here," she said, for something to say. Frank said nothing, so she lapsed into silence as the rest of the mourners filed in. Shortly afterwards, the organ started to play and those that were there rose to greet the coffin. She watched as a man and a woman, Tracy's parents she presumed, followed in its wake, clutching each other and crying and she sensed Frank stiffen beside her at the sight of them. The service was short, a few hymns, a few prayers and the vicar gave a brief eulogy. There was no mention of Palmer or of the fact that she had taken her own life. But then, she supposed, that wasn't the sort of thing that would be said. It was all over almost before she knew it, the coffin proceeding back up the aisle, Tracy's parents following.

As they drew level, her father looked over and she saw his face change. The devastation etched into every crevice turned to anger and it took her a moment to realise that he was looking at Frank. As she watched, he took a step forward, clearly poised to say something, only for his wife to swiftly take hold of his arm and pull him back into line. Seconds later, they were gone, and the remaining mourners began filing out behind.

"Did you see that?" Frank asked quietly as they fell into line.

"Yes. I take it that was Kevin?" He nodded. "It's only natural that he's upset."

"Yeah…with me."

She wanted to say something more, and yet she felt as though she was running out of platitudes for him beyond what she felt she could say as a junior officer, technically under his command. Eventually, they emerged out into the chilly air and she was about to ask him at which cemetery the burial was taking place, when she suddenly saw Tracy's father storming over towards them, no longer restrained by his wife, his expression one of fury.

"Guv…"

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Kevin demanded angrily, ignoring her and squaring up to Frank. "You've got a nerve showing your face here today!"

"Kevin, please…"

"You were supposed to look out for her! You were supposed to take care of her and instead…instead you let her get involved with that…that bastard!"

"Believe me, if there was anything I could have done…"

"You could have done a lot, Frank, only you didn't, did you? You were too busy looking out for yourself, looking out for your career, to bother about Tracy! That's the truth of it, isn't it?!"

Christina looked at Frank, willing him to fight back, willing him to defend himself against the ridiculous charge being levelled at him in the way that only he could. But he didn't. He simply stood there while Kevin railed at him and called him every name under the sun, attracting the attention of the other mourners. Glancing around, she saw Jackie watching and found herself half expecting the other woman to do something, to take control of her husband, to stop what was happening. Instead, she simply stood and watched, surrounded by people who seemed equally happy to watch the spectacle unfold.

"You were supposed to look after her!" Kevin shouted. "You were her godfather for heaven's sake!"

"Now you hang on!" Christina said, pushing herself in between the two men and rounding on Tracy's father, unwilling to listen to anymore. "I know that you're upset Mr Johnston and you have every right to be, but you're taking it out on the wrong person! None of this is Frank's fault!"

"Then who else am I supposed to blame?!"

"Maybe Terry Palmer! He's the one who introduced her to drugs after all. Or maybe take a look at yourself and the fact that you and your wife took off to Australia leaving Tracy here on her own! She overdosed on anti-depressants! Maybe, as her parents, you should have realised there was something wrong!" The moment the words had left her mouth, she regretted them, despite her belief in them. Blaming the family in such a situation wasn't something you were ever supposed to do, especially not as a police officer, and yet how could she let them heap the blame on Frank when it wasn't down to him?

"You what?!" Kevin suddenly grabbed hold of her jacket and pulled her roughly to the side, for the briefest of moments looking poised to punch her, until Frank suddenly came between them, prising the other man's hands away from her.

"Take your hands off her, Kevin!"

"My daughter is dead!"

"Yes, by her own hand! That doesn't make any of us feel proud but it's what happened!"

"Kevin…don't…" Jackie suddenly appeared at her husband's back, her face streaked with tears. "He's not worth it."

"Not worth it?" Christina rounded on her. "How can you say that? How can you blame him in all this?"

"I don't want you at the graveside, Frank," Kevin said, wiping his hand across his face. "Take yourself and your little bodyguard here and push off. We're done."

"Kevin…"

"I mean it! We're done! I don't want to see you again." Putting his arm around his wife's waist, Kevin steered her away in the direction of the funeral cars.

Several other mourners continued to gawp until Frank rounded on them. "What are you lot looking at? Enjoy the show, did you?!"

"Guv…" Christina put her hand on his arm, and he flinched, almost as though he had been burned, and pulled away. "Come on, I think we should go." For a long moment, he didn't respond, simply watched as the cars pulled away and everyone else began to disperse. His expression was unreadable and yet she could make an educated guess as to how he was feeling. "Guv?"

"What?"

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine!" he retorted angrily. "You think I can't handle being spoken to like that? You think I can't take it?"

"That's not what…"

"You had no right getting involved!" he looked at her again, his expression angry. "He could have hurt you!"

"Well, he didn't," she replied calmly. "And I couldn't just let him keep having a go at you like that, could I?" He let out a long breath and ran his hand over his eyes. "Look, let me take you home."

"No."

"Back to the nick then?"

Shaking his head, he moved past her back in the direction of the car. "I need a drink."

XXXX

He'd never felt worse in his life, and that was saying something. The end of his marriage, things that had happened in his career…nothing compared to how he felt now. He wished more than anything that he could turn back time, that he could have made sure that he was there for Tracy. But it was too late, it was all too late. Glancing up, he saw Christina watching him from the bar where she was waiting to be served. It had been a spur of the moment thing, asking her to accompany him, and there had been moments when he had questioned whether it had been a wise decision, especially when Kevin had laid hands on her, but he had to admit that he was glad of her company now. If he was going to get drunk, then it was better not to do it alone.

He couldn't help but think back on Kevin's words. They had only reinforced what he felt about himself. Any absolution he had hoped he might get from seeing Tracy's parents had quickly evaporated with that first look. His friends were lost to him now, perhaps as they should be.

"Here you go, vodka and tonic," Christina placed the glass down on the table in front of him and sat down opposite.

"Cheers." He looked at her glass. "What are you drinking?"

"Coke."

"Brilliant."

"Well, I am driving. You don't want me getting done, do you? Or perhaps you'd prefer we take the bus back?"

"Point taken." He drained half the glass in one go and then sat back. All he could think about was Tracy. All he could see every time he closed his eyes was Tracy. It was probably the first time in his life that his thoughts had been consumed by a woman in any way other than a romantic setting. It was no wonder he couldn't sleep. "She was a great girl, a great girl," he heard himself say. "Pretty…popular…I'll never understand why she did what she did."

"There were obviously things going on that nobody knew about. She clearly wasn't well."

"She was so independent though. When Jackie and Kevin said they were emigrating, she was adamant that she wasn't going with them, that she wanted to stay here, where her life was. Of course, she'd already met Palmer by that point." He shook his head. "She was the kind of girl that always made you think she didn't need anybody and yet she was completely enthralled with him."

"I suppose we all like to think we're grown up when we're teenagers, but sometimes we do things too quickly, get in over our heads."

He looked over at her. "You would have been married by the time you were Tracy's age."

"Yep."

"Young, very young."

"Very. But I'd moved in with Stewart and his folks when I was seventeen, so I suppose it was the next logical step. I didn't get on very well with my own parents back then. I was lucky that his agreed to take me in."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why didn't you get on with your own parents?" She looked away and shifted in her seat and he immediately regretted asking. Just because she had been privy to a part of his own life didn't mean he was entitled to be reciprocated. "Sorry, it's none of my business."

"No, it's…" she paused and then sighed heavily. "It's not something I talk about much but, well, I suppose it's hardly a big secret around the nick. My dad was in and out of trouble a lot when I was growing up. He was always getting nicked and then there would be periods of time that he would be away 'working' when, in reality, he was inside."

"What sort of stuff was he into?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Thieving mostly, nothing heavy until the last time. He got involved with some shady characters that lived round our way, borrowed some money and needed to pay it back, with interest of course."

"Of course."

"Anyway, he got talked into taking part in an armed blag and got caught. The judge gave him a ten stretch. I was sixteen at the time."

"That must have been hard."

"It was." She nodded. "My mum took me to see him a few times, but I hated it. I told her I wasn't going back, and she kept on at me that family was important and that I had to stand by him. It became impossible for us to live together and that was when Stewart's mum said I could move in with them."

"And you decided to become a police officer?"

"I suppose so."

"I bet that went down well."

"I didn't really care at that point," she shrugged. "I thought I was all grown up; thought I didn't need my parents. Probably much like Tracy did."

He drained the rest of his glass and got to his feet. It was going to take more than one glass to make him feel better. "Fancy another?"

"Steady on Guv. This is full fat I'm drinking."

A smile crept across his face before he could stop it. "Well, I won't tell if you won't."

XXXX

She pulled the car to a halt outside the flat, but he felt almost incapable of getting out. It wasn't just the alcohol he had consumed, though he had lost track after the fourth or fifth glass, it was the weight of the emotion of the day. He felt it pressing down on him, sometimes to the point where he found it hard to draw breath. At one point, he had excused himself in order to go to the bathroom and had been in there so long, just contemplating everything that, when he had emerged, she had been waiting for him outside, concerned that he had taken a funny turn. "I'm sorry," he said finally.

"You've nothing to be sorry for."

"I didn't want it to come to that. Kevin and I that is. I didn't want you to have to see that or to have to get involved."

"I don't think any less of you if that's what's bothering you," she said. "And no-one at the nick needs to know anything about it. We went to a funeral, that's all. It's nobody's business what happened there."

He met her gaze, feeling grateful for her understanding and wondering, not for the first time that day, if he had misjudged her in so many ways. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"I'm glad it was you," he said, taking off his seatbelt.

"Glad it was me what?"

"Who came with me today."

"Any of the others would have done the same."

"I know, but...I am glad it was you." He held her gaze for a long moment and then, before he could stop himself, or think rationally about it, reached out and pushed her hair behind her ear. The very sensation of her skin against his caused a shiver to run through his body and he could tell that she had noticed. The flat would be cold and dark, as usual, and he wasn't sure that he wanted to spend another evening there alone. "Do you…want to come inside?"

She blinked rapidly. "I don't think that would be a very good idea, Guv."

He didn't think that any words could have made him feel worse than he already did, but he felt himself cringe inside. What was he thinking? She was married for heaven's sake and she certainly didn't seem like the sort of woman who would go over the side, especially not for her boss. Besides, she wasn't even his type. "No," he agreed finally. "Probably not. Thanks for the lift."

"You're welcome," she said, as he opened the car door. "Frank?" He turned back to look at her. "It really wasn't your fault."

He could hear what she was saying and knew it was the truth, but deep down he wasn't quite ready to forgive himself. "Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow." He made his way up the path towards the door, fumbling in his pocket for his keys. Pushing it open, he turned to see her still watching him from the car and he raised his hand in a final farewell before stumbling, somewhat inelegantly, inside.

27th February

Mindful of the fact that what was supposed to have been a couple of hours at a funeral had turned into an entire day of doing no work whatsoever, Christina arrived early at the station the next morning. Her in-tray had been full the previous morning and there were several jobs that she was already behind on. Imagining the CID office to be quiet, she had hoped for a few hours to get her head down and catch up and was therefore surprised when she came in to find Jim sat at his desk, typing furiously.

"You're in early," she commented, hanging up her jacket.

"Yeah well, I'm behind on my statements so I figured I'd come in and get some peace and quiet," he replied. "But it's unnerving being the only person here with him watching, so I'm glad you had the same idea."

"With who watching?"

"Burnside, who do you think?"

Turning towards his office, she was surprised to see Frank sat at his desk, head bent over his paperwork, giving no indication that he was aware either of them were there. "How long has he been here?"

"Well, I got in at seven and he was already here, so your guess is as good as mine," Jim replied. "How was the funeral?"

"Oh, it was fine."

"You didn't come back."

"No," she fought for a reasonable explanation. "It was a difficult day."

"I see."

Ignoring the unsubtle hint behind Jim's words, Christina made her way over to Frank's office and knocked on the door. Looking up, he met her gaze, but offered no sign that he wanted her company. Pushing open the door regardless, she stepped inside, keen to see if he was feeling any better. "You're not dead then," she quipped.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you know…"

"No, I don't know. You want to enlighten me?"

Taken aback by the harshness of his words, she stepped fully into his office and closed the door behind her. "I only meant…after yesterday…"

"I believe I already thanked you for accompanying me, but if you really need me to do it again…"

"No. I just…well…wanted to know that you were all right, that's all."

"I was, and am, absolutely fine. Now, given you spent the whole day yesterday skiving, haven't you got some work to be getting on with?"

There were a million reasons she could have ascribed to his tone, upset over Tracy's death and his encounter with her parents being the main one, but she found herself wondering if it had more to do with him showing her his own vulnerability which had, in turn, allowed her to show him hers. She had never really spoken about her relationship with her parents with anyone and yet the conversation had just seemed to drift that way so naturally. Perhaps it was no wonder that he had asked her in when she had taken him home. Perhaps, in another life, she might have gone.

"Look, there's no need to be embarrassed about anything that was said or done yesterday. I know…"

"I'm not embarrassed about anything," he interrupted her harshly, his gaze piercing hers, almost daring her to say anything more. "But you will be if you don't get that in-tray emptied."

"Fine," she replied, her tone clipped. "Well, I suppose I better get started then."

"Yes, I suppose you better."

She held his gaze for a further moment, hoping to read something behind the apparent anger, but quickly realising her hopes were in vain, simply chose to close the door behind her and make her way back over to her desk.

"Looks like he's in a right mood," Jim observed as she sat down. "He certainly hasn't gotten any closure from the funeral."

"No," she replied, lifting the papers out of her tray and laying them down in front of her. "I guess not."