25 December 1990
"You've been in a funny mood all day."
Frank turned from where he had been looking out of the window to see his sister standing behind him, holding out a small glass of Scotch. With a wry smile, he accepted it from her. "Have I?"
"Yes," she came to stand beside him. "It's as if you've been somewhere else."
He thought about her observation, well aware that she was right. He hadn't really been there. Yes, he had shown up with presents for the kids and a kiss for his mother and then partaken of the food, drink and general festivities as expected, but his heart hadn't been there, not really. It had been in Leicester, with her.
"Anything you want to talk about?"
"Not really."
"Is it a woman?"
He took a sip of the honey liquid. "What makes you say that?"
"Call it female intuition." Pat took a mouthful from her own glass. "Well, is it?"
"You're like a dog with a bone. Maybe."
"Maybe? It's not like you to be all coy about your conquests."
He felt himself bristle at her insinuation. "She's not a conquest, as you put it."
"Oh, well excuse me," Pat chuckled. "Love, is it?"
"It is a matter of fact," he replied, irritated at the look of surprise that slowly spread across his sister's face. It hurt that so many people seemed to think him incapable of forming a normal relationship. "What's that look for? Don't you think I'm capable of loving someone?"
"Well, of course, but it's just…well you haven't loved anyone since Julie, and I'm not even convinced that you loved her at all." She paused. "How does she feel about you, this mystery woman?"
"The same."
"Well then, what's the problem?"
Frank looked down into his glass. "She's not free, not at the moment anyway."
"Oh, I see…you mean she's married." Pat shook her head. "Trust you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he glared at her.
"What do you think it means, Frank? You've never exactly been known for taking the easy option, have you? If it wasn't you that was married, then it was them. You seem to have some sort of in-built need to chase after women that you can't otherwise have and on the rare occasion you meet one that you could have…well…they've never really been the type you'd want to settle down with. I think it says a lot about you, to be honest."
"Oh really," he moved away from the window and sat back down on the couch. "Well, I'm sure you're just dying to dazzle me with your psychological insight, Patricia."
Pat sat opposite him and drained the rest of her glass. "You're scared of commitment."
"Bollocks."
"It's true, Frank. You've always been terrified about getting involved with a woman who might actually want more back from you than just a roll in the hay, am I right?"
"I'm not terrified of anything like that!"
"No?"
"No."
"Well, you're not getting any younger, are you?"
"Thanks a bunch," he muttered.
Pat paused. "What's different about this one then?"
He didn't know where to start. What could he say about Christina that adequately summed up what he felt for her? It had been only slightly more than twenty-four hours since he had seen her, and yet he couldn't help but feel a hollow expanse inside. "I told you, I love her."
"So where is she now?"
"Up in Leicester with her husband. Pretending it's a very merry Christmas when deep down she hates him and what he's become. He was in the job, you know. Drugs Squad. Shot in the line of duty and now a bona fide alcoholic who treats her like shit." He paused, trying hard not to dwell on what could be happening at that very moment, away from his reach. "She should be with me. She should be here with me, right now, celebrating Christmas with us. I asked her, you know. I figured you wouldn't mind one more chair around the table, but she said no."
When his sister spoke again, her voice was softer, "Have you told her how you feel?"
"Yes."
"I mean really how you feel, Frank. Not some cocky, jocular, throwaway remark, but an actual proper sentiment from the heart."
He met her gaze again, "Yes and I've told her to leave him, I've begged her to."
"And?"
"She says that she will but…I don't know…" He had to believe that she would, had to believe that she had listened to what he had said to her in the yard the previous afternoon.
"If she does leave him, what then?"
"Then we'll be together, properly." He sounded so certain, so definite, and yet he knew it was all wishful thinking right at that moment in time.
"And if she doesn't?"
Frank shook his head, "I don't really want to think about that right now. I need her Pat."
"Blimey, you have got it bad," Pat said. "Well, I hope it works out for you, Frank, I really do. You're my baby brother and you deserve a bit of happiness, proper happiness. The type of happiness that doesn't come from climbing the rungs on the Met promotion ladder."
The kids came into the room at that point, effectively ending the conversation, and as he watched his sister and her family laugh and joke together, he couldn't help but feel that this was what he wanted for himself, with her. He'd never felt more strongly about anything in his life.
XXXX
As she plunged her hands into the warm frothy water, Christina couldn't help but feel as though the entire trip had been a mistake.
It had taken everything she had had not to turn the car around after driving out of the yard and go back to Frank, take him up on his offer of spending Christmas together and to hell with what anyone else thought. But she hadn't done it. She had driven home to find that Stewart had already had a few drinks, put their bags in the car and started the journey north. They had said little to each other, the radio blaring out Christmas tunes. It had taken longer than expected, a combination of the weather and the traffic, and she had pulled into his parents' driveway just before seven. Stewart's brother, David, and his German wife, Ava, were already there and there had been a flurry of greetings before the first bottle had been cracked open. Stewart's parents weren't especially heavy drinkers, but they did like to celebrate, and she had found a glass of champagne pushed into her hands. They had all retired to bed in the small hours, before a lazy Christmas morning and then preparations for dinner. Of course, the alcohol had flowed once more and now, as most of the family sat sated in the living room in front of the television, she could tell that Stewart was already almost paralytic.
"You don't have to do that, Christina love," Elizabeth Church said, coming into the kitchen to join her. "Come and sit down."
"No, it's fine, I want to help," she replied, mechanically lifting the first dish and rinsing it in the soapy water. "After all, you went to all the trouble of making the dinner. It was delicious, by the way."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I don't think you and Stewart feed yourselves enough. But I suppose that's the price you pay for the jobs you do."
Christina paused slightly before lifting the next dish. "The jobs we do?"
"The Met. It must take it out of both of you."
She realised in that moment, that Stewart's mother had no knowledge of the fact that he had lost his job. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her, but good manners made her hold back. After all, it wasn't really her place. "Yes, I suppose it does."
"I mean, I know Stewart's not in the squad anymore, but still…"
"Yes, it's not easy."
"How are things between you two?" Elizabeth asked, lifting some more dirty dishes over to the counter next to the sink.
"Oh…fine."
"You don't have to pretend, you know."
"Pretend?" she felt her heart thud suddenly in her chest and she turned to face her mother-in-law. "What do you mean?"
"Well, what happened to Stewart is bound to put pressure on any marriage. It's a very traumatic thing, being shot."
"Yes, it is."
"It's been hard for us too, being up here and you pair in London. Oh, I know it's only a couple of hours drive, but you do feel a bit helpless sometimes." Elizabeth sighed. "I'm just glad that the two of you have managed to pull together. I know he's found it very hard to adapt."
Christina paused again, "Has he said anything to you?"
Elizabeth shrugged, "Only that it's not the same being at Hoxton and that he misses the squad."
"Nothing else?" she held her breath, wondering if he had mentioned anything about his drinking, or the arguments they had had, both public and private.
"What else is there to say? You know what men are like when it comes to sharing their feelings." Elizabeth smiled at her. "He did say that you were thinking about trying for another baby though."
A cold sensation washed over her. "Did he? When did he say that?"
"Oh, must have been a few weeks back now. I think the shooting has made Stewart re-evaluate a lot of things, including fatherhood. Oh, I know you've had your troubles in those areas, my love, so many of us do, but I think the two of you would make fantastic parents, I really do."
She turned back to the sink, not wanting to meet the other woman's gaze for fear of the truth her own would reveal. She had had no idea that Stewart had even thought such a thing recently, let alone mentioned it to his mother. Any suggestion of her becoming pregnant had died with the increasing regularity of his drinking.
"Well, I suppose time will tell," Elizabeth continued when she didn't respond. "It has to be a joint decision, of course, and I know how much you like your job."
"Yes, I do."
At that moment, a shout of raucous laughter came from the direction of the living room and David came into the kitchen, his body shaking with jubilation. "Chris, I think you need to take your husband up to bed."
"Why?" she asked, bracing herself against the sink.
David shook his head, tears of laughter now streaming down his face. "Because he's just pissed himself!"
30 December
He'd never minded working between Christmas and New Year, not since he'd been divorced at any rate. Even before then, he had usually offered to be on duty, despite Julie's protestations. Latterly, spending the enforced holidays with her had been bad enough, let alone any additional ones, and there had always been a sense of camaraderie amongst those officers in the same position. Work was still done but will decreased numbers and a slowing of the pace, it was more of an opportunity to skive at the pleasure of the public purse.
But this year, he felt no sense of frivolity at all. The desperate loneliness that had started when he had watched her drive away had only increased as the days had passed. Once the razmataz of Christmas Day was done, it all felt very anti-climactic and he had lain awake every night since, wondering if she was all right, longing for her to call him. Once or twice, he had thought about trying to find out Stewart's parents' number and phone up on the pretence of something urgent, but he had quickly realised how futile that would be, not to mention suspicious. He knew he had to trust that she was thinking about him and planning how she would tell Stewart that it was over, but the isolation was beginning to get to him.
"Any plans for tomorrow night, Guv?" Tosh asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Looking up, he saw the other man standing at the entrance to his office. "Not really, you?"
"Oh, I'm sure I'll end up in the pub at some point. Muriel wants to take the kids to the carnival first though so, duty calls."
Frank looked at him, suddenly envious of the family life he had. "You're a lucky man, Tosh."
"Oh, I don't know about that."
"Wife who loves you, five kids who adore you…a lot of men would give their eye teeth to have what you've got."
"Not you though, Guv, eh?" Tosh laughed again.
He paused, "No, not me of course. Footloose and fancy free is the best way to be, not that I'd expect you to understand that. I can do what I like, when I like, with whoever I like. There's a lot to be said for that."
"Yeah," Tosh replied, looking at him carefully, "I suppose there is."
Frank turned his attention back to the papers that were on the desk in front of him and tried to find some sense and meaning in them, but it was almost impossible. When a shadow fell across him, he looked up to see Ted standing on the other side of his desk.
"How late are you staying?"
"What time is it?"
"Almost seven. You fancy a drink?"
He paused, considering the offer. Part of him just wanted to go home and think about her, but another part of him knew that it wouldn't do his mood any good and that perhaps a convivial drink might be best all round. "All right," he said, "give me five minutes."
Twenty minutes later, both men were stood at the bar of the Black Grape, full as it was with revellers. No doubt it would be even busier the following night and Frank found himself contemplating whether he should come back.
"So, what's bugging you?" Ted asked, as they carried their drinks to a recently vacated table.
"Oh, the usual, you know," he replied, hoping he sounded circumspect enough.
"Really? I wouldn't have thought things at the station were any more stressful than usual. I mean, Reid's on holiday until the new year…"
"Must be great."
"…so you don't have her breathing down your neck." Ted paused. "And the investigation into Powell's murder isn't going anywhere as of yet…"
"What's your point, Ted?" he asked, only too well aware of where the conversation was heading.
"My point is it must be personal."
"Well, there you go then. Personal." He took a drink and tried to think of an alternative topic of conversation. "What are you doing for New Year's Eve anyway?"
A small smile played on Ted's face. "You miss her."
"Who?"
"Oh, come on. You can't kid a kidder, Frank. It's written all over your face. I'm betting there's only one person that you had a very intense conversation with in the yard on Christmas Eve."
Frank felt his stomach drop as he took in the other man. There was a knowingness about his expression, a smugness almost, that suddenly made him feel uncharacteristically nervous. "I'm not sure what intense conversation you might have thought you witnessed Ted…"
"I'm talking about you and our lovely WDC Lewis."
"What exactly do you think you saw?"
Ted shrugged casually, "A man trying to stop a woman from leaving."
"You don't know what you're talking about…"
"I think I do, Frank," he sat forwards, "and what's more, I think you need to be very careful. Not only is she a junior officer, but she's also married. Two very big no-no's in the Met."
If he hadn't been feeling the way he had, Frank knew he would have tried to brazen it out, make it seem as though Ted had completely misconstrued what he had seen but, lonely as he felt, it almost seemed cathartic to be able to admit it to someone who might understand. "You don't have to tell me that."
Ted looked momentarily surprised, "So…there is something going on between you then?"
"Yes."
"Really going on?"
"What does that mean? Are you asking me if I've kissed her? Yes, I have. Are you asking me if I've slept with her? Yes, I have. Are you asking me if I'm in love with her? Yes, I am. Happy?" He took a breath and then drained the rest of his glass. "Have I satisfied your morbid curiosity?"
Ted shook his head, "I didn't expect you to admit it."
"No? Then what was the point of you bringing it up?"
"Because I wanted you to be careful. Because we've all seen what's happened of late…"
"Don't compare me to Gordon Wray, Ted."
"Why not? It's the same thing only he was the one who was married."
"It is not the same thing!" Frank exclaimed. "Gordon Wray didn't give two hoots about June Ackland, and well you know it! She was just a sidepiece to him. He had no intention of ever leaving his wife!"
"But Christina intends to leave her husband?"
"Yes, she does."
"And do what, become Mrs Burnside instead? Come on, you're deluded!"
"You what?"
"She's had a shit time over the last six months with a husband who's been shot, kicked out of the job and taken up with the bottle. But she's also been with that husband since she was a teenager…"
"Oh, don't you start! You think I haven't had all this from her? How much she owes him, how he's been the only bloke she's ever loved until me, how she feels guilty…"
"She said that she loved you?"
"You don't have to look so surprised, Ted. There are women out there capable of having feelings for me beyond what I can offer them in the sack."
"I didn't mean it like that. I just think that expecting her to turn her entire life upside down for you is foolish. Even if she did leave her husband, it doesn't change the fact that you're still her senior officer. Her direct line manager. It couldn't be any more inappropriate."
Frank paused, thinking back to a conversation he had had with an old friend a few days earlier, the content of which had left him with a lot to consider. "There's a vacancy on the Flying Squad. I spoke to an old mate of mine with connections there. It would be a straight sideways move, still at DI level, but the current DCI is tipped for a Superintendent role in the next few months so…"
"And you would just walk into the job?"
"Something like that."
"You're telling me that you would walk away from Sun Hill, just so as you could be with her?"
"Is that so hard for you to believe?"
Ted pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up, blowing smoke up into the air. "Coming from you, yes it is."
"You're the one who kept going on about my interactions with her. You've been more than happy to stick your nose in!"
"Yes, to try and make you see how it looked! To get you to see sense about it, not decide you wanted to throw everything away for her! Frank…chances are she will never leave him. She's too loyal and they've been together a long time."
He felt a hard knot of anger form in his stomach, not only at the other man's words, but at his own feelings of helplessness and doubt about where they went from here. He didn't want to believe that Ted could be right, that Christina might return from Leicester having changed her mind about how she felt. But a week with no contact, understandable or not, was playing havoc with his mind. "I don't want to talk about it," he said finally. "And if you know what's good for you, Ted, you'll keep this to yourself, all right?"
Ted held up his hands, "Your secret is safe with me, but maybe you should think about how all this will impact on you, not just her. She's not the only one with things to lose."
