3 December 1990

"You'll be absolutely fine," Christina said, smoothing down the collar of his shirt and brushing imaginary fluff from his shoulder. "As long as you're honest and contrite, you'll be fine."

Stewart looked as though he didn't quite believe her. "Honest and contrite?"

"Yes, you say how sorry you are, how it won't happen again and mention the steps you've taken to sort it and I'm sure they'll give you another chance. How could they not, with a record like yours? You don't just cast out someone with two commendations for bravery."

"I suppose so," he turned away from her and eyed himself critically in the mirror. "Contrition isn't really in my nature."

She sighed inwardly and sent up a silent prayer that he would be able to hold it together. Much to both their reliefs, the CPS had elected not to proceed with the charge of assaulting a police officer. Stewart's federation representative had made a compelling argument that, balanced against his previously unblemished record of service, it would be disproportionate to prosecute him for a minor infraction and the CPS lawyer had agreed. She knew that certain members of the relief weren't entirely happy with the outcome and both June and Tony had made that obvious to her on several occasions. But her loyalty lay with her husband, and she had done her best to placate them. Besides, given that June's affair with the DCI was all over the station, she couldn't help but feel that the other woman was in little position to give a lecture on moral values. Despite the lack of criminal charges, Stewart had still to face the disciplinary board who would decide whether he could remain on the force or not, and the outcome of that worried her more, especially as Tony and June were both giving evidence.

"I wish you could come with me," he said, turning back to face her. "I'd probably do a lot better if you were there."

"I know, I wish I could be there too, but maybe it's best that I'm not. I've got every faith in you." She kissed him gently. "Once this is over, you can put the whole thing behind you."

"And focus on my wonderful new role at Hoxton."

She said nothing, hoping that he wouldn't descend into self-pity. Since his arrest, Stewart had been true to his word and had steered clear of any alcohol. He had also gone back to work and seemingly tried to make the best of the role he was now in, but she knew by the look on his face every night that it wasn't what he wanted, and she worried every day that he might crack. Their sex life had improved somewhat in that, since stopping drinking, he had been more affectionate, though there was still a quality of entitlement in each encounter. More than once he had said that it might be time for them to reconsider trying for a baby and though she had nodded and agreed it was something they could discuss, she still took her pill religiously every day.

"I'd better get going," he said, checking his watch. "I don't want to be late." They left the house together, him heading for Area and her for Sun Hill and at the bottom of the path, he pulled her into him for a final embrace, kissing her tenderly as he did so. "Maybe we should think about getting that trip to Paris rearranged, maybe after the New Year? Something to look forward to in January?"

"Sounds great," she replied. Paris had flown completely out of her mind over the last six months, but perhaps if they did go there, it might help reignite feelings that she couldn't help but sense were dying.

When she reached the station, there was a buzz in the CID office and some of the others were standing talking in the corner. "What's going on?"

"We've caught a break in that security van robbery," Jim said.

"Which security van robbery?"

"The one during the summer, when the guard was killed."

"Oh, that one." The memory of that time, of Stewart being shot, came flooding back to her. "But I thought Tony Marshall got done for that?"

"He did, but he never gave up who the other gang members were, did he? Now, we think we might know. One of the DI's snouts has coughed a name, Paul Ingles."

"Doesn't ring any bells," she said, putting her bag down on the desk.

"No, he's from Manchester, not been active on this ground before, but according to Burnside's snout, he's still around and might be planning something more."

"If he's from Manchester, why would he suddenly get involved in the robbery of a security van from a warehouse down here?"

"Well, we don't know that, but the DI wants us to pick him up. The snout says he's due to meet some equally dodgy characters at the Back Lane industrial estate at 11am, so we've to mount a surveillance operation and nick Ingles and whoever else shows their face."

"Oh, right."

"Well don't sound so excited. The DCI's coming with us and all, though I don't think Burnside's too chuffed about that."

"Sorry," she waved her hand. "It's good that we've got a lead, it's just…"

"Stewart's up before the disciplinary board today, isn't he?" she nodded. "I'm sure he'll do fine."

"With Tony and June set to stick the knife in?"

"They're only doing their jobs, just like when you testified last year against Driscoll. It's not personal to you, you know, and he did punch Tony."

"I know, I'm not trying to make excuses for him…well maybe I am." She laughed shortly. "I just know that if he loses his job then that's it. He'll never come back from that."

"You said he had stopped drinking."

"He has, but something like this could just push him over the edge again…" she broke off as Frank came into the office, followed by Gordon. "Anyway, duty calls."

"Right, so for those of you late to the party, our target is one Paul Ingles," he pointed to a photograph pinned to the noticeboard. "Now he's not someone we know a lot about. He's from Manchester, but he's got a significant record and we've good reason to believe he was involved in the security van robbery during the summer where one of the guards lost his life. So, he's possibly going to be on the hook for murder as well. According to my snout, he's meeting some other men, possibly the other members of the gang that hit the van, possibly not. The snout didn't know any other names. But I want everyone nicked. You never know what we might get out of it."

"I want this done cleanly," Gordon said. "No cock ups. In and out." A slight titter went around the room. "Knowing that these gang members have been out there, unchecked all these months has been frustrating, but now we have a chance to relieve that frustration."

"I thought he'd been doing that already," Mike whispered.

"I've taken the liberty of assigning teams," Gordon continued as though he hadn't heard. "So, Frank, Mike and Tosh, you'll take the west entrance to the estate. Myself, Christina and Ted will take the east entrance. Viv and Jim, I want you in a car on the street, in case anyone tries to make a run for it. I've spoken to Inspector Monroe, and we'll have uniform back up as and when we need it. Right," he surveyed them. "let's get changed and get this done."

A flurry of chatter started in the room, and as she watched Gordon and Frank talking together, she couldn't help but wonder if the assignment of bodies had been somehow deliberate. Today of all days she would have liked to have been with him, even if there had been others around, but clearly the DCI had had other ideas.

"Be good to see a bit of action," Viv said as they changed in the toilets. "It's been altogether too quiet around here of late and it would be good to nail the gang for that robbery."

"Yeah."

"I heard you talking to Jim earlier. Are you worried about Stewart?"

She shrugged, "There's not really much point in worrying, is there? I can't change anything, only he can do that, and I hope that he does. I just hope I can focus on the job at hand today."

"Well at least if you're with the DCI you won't have Burnside distracting you."

A tingle shot up her spine. "Distracting me?"

"Yeah, with his inane chatter about whatever bird he's been shagging of late. Last time I was on surveillance with him it was all he could talk about."

"Maybe he was trying to make you jealous."

"Jealous? Ha!" Viv laughed. "As if! I wouldn't touch the DI with a bargepole. No idea where he's been, know what I mean?"

She did know, but she kept quiet. Putting forward any kind of defence might raise red flags, flags she felt herself struggle to keep lowered every day.

Maybe it would be a good thing that they weren't together.

XXXX

Frank was less than impressed with Gordon's idea of appropriate team structuring. He was only too well aware of the fact that Stewart was up before the board, and he had wanted to be with Christina. Of course, there was wanting and then there was wanting, and the last few weeks had been difficult to say the least. His hope that she would reject Stewart had been dashed fairly quickly after his release from custody when it became abundantly apparent that she had, in fact, taken him back. He had seen her mood improve, alongside Stewart's behaviour, and though he knew he should be happy for her, and in a way was, he couldn't help but think that any chance of him ever telling her how he felt grew smaller with every passing day.

In light of that, he had gone back to Fiona, the age difference suddenly seeming insignificant in the face of other issues. She had been welcoming to him and he had found himself able to perform to the requisite standard once again, even if he had required to conjure up images of another during the process. At least she wasn't pushy or demanding. Days could go by without him contacting her and she didn't complain. But then, of course, he had no idea who else was on her dance card, so to speak, nor did he want to know. So long as they were safe, he really didn't care and besides, it was almost Christmas, not really a time to be alone.

"You're rather quiet Guv," Tosh commented as they took up their positions on the west side of the estate.

"Well, I didn't realise that I had to provide a running commentary of the day," he replied. "Tosh is now getting out of the car…Tosh is now adjusting his trousers…" Mike snorted with laughter. "Anyway, I want this job done right, just as much as the DCI."

"In and out, like he said," Mike quipped.

"And don't think he didn't hear your little remark, Michael."

"Well…it's probably the worst kept secret in the history of Sun Hill since, oh I don't know Guv, since we found out you were going to be our new DI."

"And what a happy day that was."

"Quite." Mike paused. "What do you think's going to happen?"

"About what?" Frank asked, scanning the street.

"About June Ackland and the DCI."

"How would I know?"

"Well, the top brass can't let it go, can they? I mean, he's a DCI and she's a WPC."

"No need to look down your nose."

"I'm not but…well, come on. Plus, he's married."

"Always a difficult situation," Tosh commented, in a tone that made Frank turn to look at him. "Don't you think so?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm divorced, remember?"

"Not everyone is though, are they?"

He chose not to respond to the other man's remark, well aware at what he was getting at. He'd though he only had Ted's nods and winks to have to deal with, assumed that Tosh, having said his piece many months ago, had moved on from the subject, but clearly, he had been mistaken. Any further thought he might have had on the matter was quickly dispelled, however, as a van made its way down the street and turned into the estate. He pressed the radio. "Wray from Burnside."

"Go ahead Frank."

"A grey van, repeat, a grey van has just turned into the estate. Registration alpha, four, three nine, uniform, yankee, tango, over."

"Received."

"Michael, get a PNC." The other man turned away and mumbled into his own radio whilst Frank continued to watch the progress of the van further into the estate. It did a slow circle and then came to a stop.

"Van was reported stolen last month from an estate in Docklands," Mike reported back.

A male suddenly got out of the van and proceeded to light up a cigarette. "ICI male exited vehicle."

"Got him," Gordon's voice crackled in response. "Any sign of anyone else?"

Frank looked back along the route the van had taken. "Negative."

"All right, let's give it a few minutes and if no-one else turns up, we'll nick this one, over."

Frank tapped his radio against his hand impatiently. If the man was Ingles, then he was desperate to nick him, the fall out from the security van robbery still being mentioned on occasion by Brownlow and Conway, clearly not satisfied with the fact that at least one man was doing time for it. Personally, it had always irked him that they had never been able to nail anyone else for it. Just as he was contemplating radioing back and suggesting they move in, another van turned into the estate. "Second van approaching, blue, registration delta, six, eight, two, hotel, november, november."

"On it," Mike said, before he needed to ask. "Also reported stolen last month."

As they watched, the second van came to a halt and two men alighted, moving around to speak to the first man. Frank held his breath, waiting for the order, pushing to the back of his mind the fact that he was slightly pissed off that he wasn't the one giving it.

"Go, go, go!"

They raced out from their hiding places; the men taken by surprise but clearly outnumbered. Despite that, they scattered around the estate, running towards any available exit, only to find themselves quickly apprehended.

Tosh had hold of the first man, and Frank swung him around so he could look him in the face. He looked to be in his fifties, heavyset with thinning hair and beady little eyes. "Paul Ingles, I presume!" he declared triumphantly, before the man in question spat in his face.

XXXX

"So, how did it go?"

"It was fine."

She clutched the receiver to her ear and waited for him to say more, feeling herself grow nervous when he didn't. "Well, what does that mean? Did they give you a decision?"

"No, I should hear in the next few days."

"Oh, ok then." Again, she waited for him to elaborate and was rewarded with only dead silence at the other end of the phone. "Well, I might be a bit late tonight, is that ok?"

"Fine. I'll leave something in the oven for you."

"Great, thanks. Right, well I'll see you later then."

"Ok, bye."

He hung up the phone before she did, the sound of the dial tone buzzing in her ear, and she slowly replaced the receiver. Something in his whole tone and demeanour bothered her and she could only hope that it was perhaps nerves on his part and not the sign of something more ominous.

"Well?"

She looked up to meet Ted's gaze across the desk. "He said it went fine."

"Just fine?"

"That's what he said." She looked down at the papers before her, but the words meant nothing to her. Everything had been going so well of late and she felt terrified at the prospect of it all falling apart. "Do you think it would be inappropriate to find Tony or June and ask them how it went?"

"Yes, I do. Besides, all they would be able to tell you would be about their evidence. They wouldn't have been present for anything else." He looked at her sympathetically. "Whatever the outcome, it's not down to you."

"No, I know, but I'm the one who'll have to live with the consequences." She looked up towards Frank's office, frustrated to find it empty as it had been for the last hour since they had returned victorious from the operation. She felt restless, in need of someone to talk to…in need of him. "Do you know where the DI is?"

"Downstairs last time I saw him, waiting on Ingles' brief."

She waited what she felt was an appropriate time before pushing her chair back and casually leaving the office, hoping not to give the impression that she was leaving to find him. As she walked down the corridor, however, she could feel Ted's eyes on her back and knew that she had failed. She hadn't forgotten the conversation they had had in the pub that night, even if the rest of the evening had been a blur but, to his credit, he had never brought it up again. Making her way downstairs, she heard Frank before she saw him, the sound of raised voices coming from within Monroe's office. Slowing her gait, she hovered outside the door, trying to invent a reason for why she might be there that would allow her to both listen and casually bump into him once he emerged.

"Problem?" she jumped slightly at the sound of a voice behind her and turned to see Bob Cryer standing just inside the door of the Sergeant's office.

"Oh, sorry Sarge, I didn't see you there. I was…just looking for the DI." She gestured towards the door of Monroe's office and made a face. "Reckon I've found him."

"Yeah, well he's busy at the moment," Bob replied. "And I doubt he'd appreciate you listening in to his conversation, even if you are the subject of it."

She frowned, "Sarge?"

"I understand that Tony and June have been giving you a hard time recently," he folded his arms across his chest. "Or at least, I gleaned that much before the door was shut."

"Oh…that…"

"Yeah, that. I don't condone what your husband did, Christina, but nor do I condone officers making it difficult for one another."

"They can't understand why I wouldn't make a statement about what happened. I don't suppose I can blame them, not really."

"It's a difficult situation when it's family, I understand that more than most. But, at the end of the day, you have to do what's right and the right thing to do, would have been to support June and Tony." He looked at her sympathetically. "But I know it's hard. Have you spoken to either of them recently?"

"No," she shook her head. "I've just tried to avoid them, to be honest."

"Well, that won't do, will it? You all used to be mates. Don't you think you should have a proper conversation with them? Try and smooth things over?"

"You think it would do any good?"

"Well, I think it would do a damn sight more good than the outcome of this argument will," he replied, gesturing to the door. "If Burnside has his way over this, they'll both be hauled over the coals."

She turned back to the closed door and the raised voices from within. It was heartening to know that her boss cared enough about the difficulties she was facing, not that she had any clue as to how he had found out about them, but she knew Bob was right and if there was any intervention from senior officers on the matter, it would end up a worse outcome all round. Before she could reason with herself to exercise caution, she stepped forward, knocked smartly on the door and pushed it open.

Frank and Andrew were standing on opposing sides of his desk, like two predators circling each other, waiting to pounce. It was a running joke how they had never got along, but she knew that she had no wish to be the cause of further angst between the pair.

"I did not give you permission to enter!" Andrew exclaimed.

"I'm sorry sir, but if this discussion is about me then I think I should be involved," she replied, looking between them.

"And who says it's about you?"

"I know it's about the problems I've been having with June and Tony." She paused. "Well, isn't it?"

"Let me deal with this, Chris," Frank said.

"No Guv, I won't. I'm grateful but…well…I'd rather sort it out for myself." She held his gaze for a long moment and could tell that he was debating with himself how to answer. "Please? I'm a big girl you know."

"I think WDC Lewis is talking a lot of sense, Frank, don't you?" Andrew said. "Something like this can surely be dealt with between the officers involved."

"Fine," Frank replied tightly. "But if it doesn't get sorted, I'll be back."

Before she could say anything, he had turned on his heel and left the office and, after a hurried thank you thrown in Andrew's direction, she followed him back up the stairs towards the CID office.

"You didn't need to do that."

"I know I didn't need to, but I'm not having one of my officers take flak from a couple of plods who haven't the faintest clue about what's going on," he replied, before turning sharply to face her in the corridor outside Gordon's office. "If you want to sort it out with them yourself, fine, but don't walk into a conversation like that and pull me up again!"

"I wasn't…" she trailed off, realising that, sometimes, apologising was the best way forwards. "I'm sorry, you're right. I shouldn't have barged in."

"Well…" he looked slightly surprised. "That's all right then. I was only looking out for you."

"I know and I'm grateful." It seemed to be something she found herself saying to him regularly. "How did you know?"

"Carver mentioned it the other day." He looked at her pointedly and she knew, without him saying it, that he was wondering why she hadn't told him herself. She wasn't sure of the answer so simply smiled sheepishly in return.

"You shouldn't have riled Monroe up like that."

"It's practically a hobby of mine. I enjoy it."

"Guv…"

"All right, point taken." He looked at her carefully. "So, how do you suggest dealing with it?"

"I'm going to try talking to them, explain that I know I should have given a statement but tell them why I chose not to and…hope they understand." She shrugged. "I'm not sure what more I could possibly say."

"Well, like I said downstairs, if it doesn't get sorted, I'll be back on Monroe's case and no amount of pleading on your behalf will change my mind."

She smiled, "I'd say that was fair."

"Good. Have you heard from Stewart?"

The reason for her seeking him out in the first place, momentarily forgotten, came rushing back to her. "Yeah, I spoke to him on the phone, and he said it had gone fine."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know." She was prevented from saying anymore by the DCI's door opening and Gordon coming out into the corridor, dressed once more in his suit. "Sir."

"Good job today," Gordon said. "What's happening with Ingles?"

"Oh, he's downstairs waiting on his brief for interview," Frank replied. "And we've identified the other men he was with. They've all got records for robbery with violence, so we'll have a pop at them too."

"Glad to hear it."

"You…uh, going somewhere, Guv?"

"I've been summoned to Mr Brownlow's office," Gordon replied, "no doubt he'll want to pass on his congratulations to you all."

"No doubt," Frank said, as the other man pushed open the swing doors and headed for the Chief Super's office. "But if I was a betting man…"

"If you were a betting man, what?" she asked.

"If I was a betting man, I'd say Gordon Wray's time is up."