26 June 1991
The bottle having been uncorked; the genie ran rampant.
They had spent the night in his bed, engaging in the intense love making of old, and when he woke the following morning, she was already up making breakfast. He had wound his arms around her, pulled her back against him and kissed her, all the time trying to dodge the spit of the frying pan she was holding. She had turned to him, kissed him back and then said, "I suppose we shouldn't do that again."
"No, I suppose not," he had replied, but ten minutes later they had been on the couch, his mouth filled with the flesh of her breasts as she had straddled him, breakfast seemingly forgotten.
And so it had continued. Four months' worth of restrained desire given forty-eight hours free rein. By the time they were packing up their belongings to head to the airport, he felt as though his body had been through a wringer, even more so than after his beating. Every muscle ached, but it had been worth it. He had enjoyed every encounter and felt closer to her than he ever had before. As he had sat beside her on the plane, examining her profile as she looked out of the window, he couldn't help but feel the ever-present understanding that she was the one for him. That, eventually, she would be his wife, the mother of his children, the one he would grow old with.
As the taxi sped through the darkening London streets back towards her flat, however, he felt a growing sense of impending doom, not helped by her pressed against him in the backseat. They were home, reality striking them in the face, and what had seemed necessary and harmless in Spain now, once more, seemed to present as an obstacle. There were times when he thought she was one of the strongest people he knew and other times when he could recognise how vulnerable she was deep down. He knew he had made so many mistakes in the course of their relationship so far and, much as he might want to throw caution to the wind now, he also knew that one of them had to stay grounded and that his original stance when they arrived in Spain had been the right one. Not to mention the fact, despite his bravado, he had his own feelings to protect.
He buried his face in her hair, drinking in the last scent of her until the taxi came to a halt, well aware that she wasn't going to react well to what he knew he had to say.
"Do you want to come inside?" she asked, as he got out to help her with her bag. "We could get a takeaway and…well…I could think of a few other things we could do." She ran her hand up his chest and raised her eyebrows.
"No, better not, early start tomorrow."
"Ok, just a thought." She moved in close to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I love you."
"I love you too," he replied, kissing her. "But I think…I think that we should take the view that what happened in Spain stays in Spain."
She pulled back slightly and looked at him, "What?"
"I just think that…well…in reality, nothing's really changed, has it?"
"Nothing's changed? How can you say that?"
"I just think…"
"Everything's changed. Just like we both knew it would the moment we slept together again."
"Yeah, I know that, and I don't want you to think that I didn't enjoy it, or that I don't want to keep doing it but…well, it doesn't change where we are, does it? You still need to decide what you want and…"
"I know what I want," she looked squarely at him. "Christ, Frank, isn't it obvious?"
"We still have to wait for Stewart's trial…"
"Oh, bugger Stewart's trial! Bugger Stewart for that matter! Whatever he says, whatever he does isn't going to change how I feel about you, or how I know you feel about me. We love each other, we're clearly physically compatible, and I want to be with you!"
He squeezed her gently. "I want to be with you too…"
"Well then!"
"…but I still think we need to wait."
Pulling away from him, she stepped back and shook her head, her expression one of disbelief mixed with anger. "Oh, I see. You want to keep your options open."
"No…"
"You're hoping you might be able to persuade Fiona to let you roll around with her again."
"That's not it and you know it. I am trying to do the right thing here!"
"The right thing for who?" she snapped. "The right thing for you? Have your cake and eat it too?"
"Christina…"
"You're really something, you know that? You feed me a load of old pony about how it would be better for me to take time to think about things, to wait and see how I feel about Stewart before making any long term decisions, about how it wouldn't be good for us to be intimate in case I decide we shouldn't be together and then, at the first opportunity, you've got me over a kitchen table!"
"We shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have done it…"
"Well, you did! And you knew that I wouldn't say no because I wanted it in the first place!" She snatched her bag up from the ground and turned towards the flat.
"Look," he said, following her. "Nothing would make me happier than for us to go inside your flat together, go to bed, get up tomorrow and start the rest of our lives together, but that's not how things work and, like it or not, Stewart's trial is still hanging over our heads!"
"Fine!" she swung back to face him. "I get that you don't want to move forwards, officially, until that's resolved, but where's the harm in us being intimate?"
"I told you where the harm was. It makes it all the more difficult to walk away if you ultimately decide you don't want us to be together!"
"I'm not going to decide that though, am I?!"
"You don't know that!" He stepped back. "Look, I'm sorry I crossed the line. It won't happen again."
"I don't believe this! You get your end away and then get to act all noble when you ditch me by pretending it's for my own good!"
"It is for you own good! It's for both of our own goods! You've just come out of a long relationship, one that ended in violence." The taxi driver honked his horn, and he waved his hand. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Chris, you know that…"
"Yeah well, well done, you have!" She turned away again and ran towards the door, forcing it open before he could say anything more and slamming it behind her.
He paused, wanting to pursue her, yet realising it would all be to no avail.
"Lovers' tiff?" the taxi driver asked when he eventually got back into the car.
"Yeah…" he sighed as they pulled away from the kerb, "Something like that."
XXXX
When she got inside, she realised she was shaking and all she could was sink down onto the couch and put her head in her hands. She couldn't keep up with what he wanted, what he thought was right and the idea that he was making these decisions to benefit her…she laughed bitterly and then sat back, staring at the ceiling. Everything he had said in Spain about her taking the time to consider things, about how intimacy would just create an additional problem for her…she had believed him, had seen sense in what he was saying and yet, he had been the one to start it; he had been the one to put his hands on her first. Yes, she had acquiesced, but he had made the first move. And now, to turn around and say that it had, in effect been a mistake…if her mind was all over the place, then it was down to him. Reaching down into her bag, she pulled out the notebook and turned it to the page where she had written down all the pros and cons of their relationship.
"He's in love with you. He treats you well…" angrily, she ripped the page out and crumpled it in her hand before tossing it across the room, which is when she caught sight of the blinking light of the answering machine. With great effort, she dragged herself to her feet and across to press the button. The machine bleeped and then a familiar voice filled the air.
"Chris, it's Viv. I know you won't get this until you get home, but can you give me a ring when you do? It's important."
She sighed heavily, her friend being the last person she really wanted to talk to in that moment and yet, what else was she going to do? Rail around the flat, slamming doors and muttering to herself about what a bastard Frank Burnside was? No wonder he had never held down a relationship beyond his marriage if this was how he treated his women, and she was under no illusion that that was all she was to him; one of many.
Lifting the phone, she dialled Viv's number, it ringing out twice before the other woman answered it. "Hello?"
"Viv? It's Chris."
"Oh, hiya. How are you? How was your time away?"
"I'm fine and it was fine," she replied tightly, fighting down the bitter anger in her chest. She wished she could just lay it all out, get another opinion on the matter, and yet although Viv knew about what had happened in the past between her and Frank, she was reluctant to drag her into their present mess. "I got your message. What's so important that it couldn't wait until I get back tomorrow?"
Viv paused. "Ummm…there was a call when you were away…from Brighton nick."
"Ok…"
"Your dad got lifted for receiving and, well, he used you as his one phone call." She felt a slight chill run through her. "I told him that you weren't available because you were away for a few days, but I said I'd pass it on."
"Oh…I see."
"Yeah. I didn't say anything to anyone else because, well, we all assumed you were in Brighton visiting him." Viv left the words hanging. "Is there anything you want to talk…"
"I…ummm…I was going to go to Brighton," she said, her mind thinking fast, "but then I decided that it was a bad idea, so I went to Leicester instead."
"Leicester?"
"Yeah…I went to see Stewart's parents, just to see how they were doing."
"Was that wise? How did it go?"
She closed her eyes, ashamed of how easily the lies came. "Well, it was a bit tricky. They blame me a bit for what happened and…"
"What? Why? How can they blame you? He's the one who was drinking. He's the one who ruined your marriage, not to mention stabbed you with a broken bottle!"
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, "I think it's more the other thing that's upset them." "Oh," Viv paused. "You mean your affair with Burnside?"
It sounded so sordid when it was put in that way, and yet maybe that was just how it was. "Mmmm."
"Do they know who he is?"
"No, it seems like Stewart hadn't told them any specifics beyond the fact I was having an affair but…anyway…I'd better go. Thanks for letting me know about my dad though and…would you mind keeping this to yourself? I don't want to have to be explaining to everyone about it or answering a load of questions."
"Of course, I won't say a word. See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, see you tomorrow." She replaced the receiver slowly and then sank back down onto the couch. Her dad had been out of trouble for so long and now…receiving? Had it been something to do with her last visit? Had the horror of hearing her admit she had threatened to accuse an innocent man of rape somehow pushed him over the edge back into criminality? "You're not responsible," she told herself fiercely. "You're not responsible for everyone else's actions."
And yet, Stewart had stabbed her because of what she had done with Frank. Frank had been angry with her because of what she had said in Brighton and then been angrier again over what she hadn't done when it came to Whelan. He was refusing to progress their relationship because he said she needed to get her head straight about what she wanted. It seemed as though everything always fell on her.
It was exhausting.
27 June
"Bloody hell, what happened to you?"
Frank grimaced at the shocked look on Tosh's face as he came into the office. "I fell over."
"What, in Spain? Must have been some fall. Were you drunk?"
"I might have had a few libations, yes," he replied, moving into his office. "It's no big deal. Fractured cheekbone and a couple of cracked ribs, that's all."
"That's all? Sounds more like you were in a fight than you fell over."
"Yeah well, less said about it the better, know what I mean?" he glanced at the phone messages on his desk. "Everything been all right here while I was away?"
"Oh fine. Good, in fact. I think I've tracked down an address for Rory Evans. I'm going to take Chris and we'll give him a spin later this morning."
"Oh good. Whereabouts is he hiding now?"
"Address on the Cockcroft. I've no idea if he's behind this recent crimewave but at least we've got his prints at one of the scenes."
"Well, it's better than nothing and you never know." he paused. "Is she in yet?"
"Who, Chris? Yeah, she was down in the canteen earlier." Tosh paused. "So, it was good then, Spain, despite the…fall?"
"Yeah, it was good."
"Right then," Tosh hovered a moment, as though expecting him to say more. "I'd best get on then."
"I should say." Left alone, he found his thoughts once more turning to her. The medication he was still taking had ensured a good night's sleep, but she had been both the last and first thing on his mind, replaying her last words to him over and over again in his head. It was the right decision, but he still felt crap about it. Fortunately, the next few hours saw him catching up with all the things that had either come in whilst he was away, or that he had left before the weekend. He didn't even notice if she had come into the office at all and he only found himself pulled back from the mechanics of work when there was a knock at his door, and he looked up to see Viv hovering before him.
"Looks nasty," she said, gesturing to his face.
"Yeah, well you should see the other bloke."
"I thought you fell?"
"I did, it was a turn of phrase." He held her gaze for a long moment, expecting her to say something. "Something on your mind Viv?"
"No, well…yeah, there is actually."
"Well go on, spit it out." He paused as she closed the door behind her. "That serious, is it?"
"I don't know Guv but…well, I took a call last Friday from Brighton police station. It was Christina's dad. He'd been nicked for receiving and wanted to let her know. I mean…" she paused. "We all thought she was in Brighton visiting him but, when I told her about the call, she said she had been in Leicester visiting Stewart's parents."
He took in the information, working hard to keep his expression impassive. "And?"
"And it sounds like they gave her a bit of a hard time, having a go at her about…well…you know, you and her."
He'd never been sure exactly what Viv knew, beyond the afternoon he had come across her and Christina squirreled away in one of the interview rooms after Brighton. He supposed it was only natural for her to want to confide in a female friend but, in that moment, he didn't feel particularly gratified for the other woman's knowledge. It was bad enough having Ted know and Tosh, at least, suspecting. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"It's none of my business Guv…"
"You're right about that."
"Look, I'm only mentioning it because I'm concerned about her. I mean, what was she doing going all the way up there? She must have known they would make things difficult for her. He is their son after all, despite what he did. And now her dad getting nicked? I just think, well, that she might need a bit of support, that's all."
"Well, she's got you, hasn't she?"
Viv said nothing for a long moment. "Yes Guv."
"Right then, sister solidarity it is." He paused under the weight of the other woman's gaze. "Look, what do you want me to say? If she wants to spend her time off going up to visit his parents, who are we to say she can't? They were a big part of her life. And as for her dad…" he shook his head, "a leopard never changes its spots. You know that."
"I just thought that maybe you could…"
"What?"
She paused and sighed, "Nothing Guv. Anyway, I've told you."
"Yeah, you have."
"I told her I wouldn't tell anyone but…"
"But?"
"Well…I thought you of all people should at least know."
He watched as she left his office and headed back over to her desk, anger jolting through him. What a prize prat her dad was, getting himself nicked and then phoning up to lay it on her. Surely, he would have realised that was the last thing she needed. He had half a mind to lift the phone to Brighton himself, though he knew it wouldn't do any good, not to mention the fact he wasn't entirely sure what she had told her dad about him in light of what had happened in the hotel. No, he was probably far better keeping out of it altogether.
XXXX
"What a shithole," Christina commented as Tosh drew up in the Cockcroft estate. "I swear every estate is worse than the one before it."
"Yeah, makes the Jasmine Allen look like Notting Hill." He pulled on the handbrake. "But then, if this is all you've ever known, and you don't have the will to get out…what can you do?"
"Nothing I suppose." She unclipped her seatbelt and sighed. "Well, let's go see if we can find Mr Evans then, shall we?" They stepped out of the car into the balmy air, and she suddenly felt homesick for Spain. "Hot, isn't it."
"Yeah," Tosh agreed. "You must have had decent weather down Brighton way."
"Yes, it was lovely," she lied. "Busy this time of year though."
"I can imagine. Did you see the damage the DI's done to himself?"
"His face you mean?" she kept her gaze turned away as they made their way towards the address they had for Evans. "Took a tumble in Spain, or so I heard."
"Must have been one hell of a tumble. He told me he'd cracked a few ribs too." Tosh shook his head. "You ask me, he was mugged."
"What makes you say that?"
"I don't care how drunk you are, you can't fall and crack your ribs without it being from some height and, if it was some height, he'd be far more badly injured. No, I reckon he's been knocked about."
"You make it sound like a domestic."
"Well, the company he keeps, you never know. I'm sure there are a few angry husbands out there."
"What does that mean?" she asked before she could stop herself.
"Well, he likes to put it about a bit, our Frank. You know that."
"Tosh…" she stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. "If you've got something to say, just say it, all right? Stop pussyfooting around."
"Ok, fine. Don't do it."
"Don't do what?"
"You know what I'm talking about. Just because Stewart's out the picture now, don't do anything stupid."
She eyeballed him, curious as to the way in which he was talking, as though he didn't actually know that she and Frank had done anything beyond simply making eyes at each other. "I haven't done anything stupid," she settled on, once again amazed at how easily the lies came. "If you're trying to suggest that I've got a crush on Burnside…"
"I think it's more than that. Don't let him talk you into anything," he warned.
"Like what?"
"You know what I'm getting at." He shook his head. "This may, or may not, come as a surprise to you, but I reckon he's got feelings for you, serious feelings, and I've thought it for some time. The way he's behaved towards you over the years, good and bad…it's a clear-cut sign. He was devastated when you got stabbed, don't think I couldn't tell."
Despite however else she was feeling, she found herself desperate to laugh. The way he was talking, as though nothing had already happened, was sweet in a way, almost like a concerned older brother, or the father she should have had. Perhaps if he'd thought to talk to her in this way a year earlier, things might have turned out differently. "Well, if he's got feelings for me, he's never told me. Is that why you were banging on the other week about me needing a bit of fun, but nothing hot and heavy?"
"I suppose so. I don't want to see you get hurt, that's all."
"Tosh…" she put her hand on his arm. "I get what you're saying, and I promise you that I won't let the DI corrupt me, whatever you think that might look like. Now, are we going to go and give Evans a spin or are we going to stand here debating hypotheticals?"
"All right," he nodded, "I've said my piece."
She tried hard to keep the smile from her face as they made their way towards the flat. On the one hand, Tosh was clearly perceptive but, on the other, he was way behind the times, but it at least gratified her that, in the wake of being stabbed, news of her affair with Frank hadn't spread like wildfire the way she had expected it to.
Tosh knocked on the front door and, moments later, it opened. "Rory Evans?" Before any more could be said, the door was slammed in their faces, Tosh pushing it open to follow, whilst Christina turned and ran back along the way they had come, down the stairs and around to the back of the flats, in time to see Evans slide down the fire escape and take to his heels.
"Stop, police!" she shouted, but it was useless. He was too far away for her to even contemplate chasing.
"Bugger," Tosh said, when he eventually caught up with her.
"Bugger is right."
XXXX
"So, you lost him."
"He was like Linford Christie, Guv, we had no chance."
"Maybe you ought to lose a few pounds, Tosh. It might help in the long run. And as for you…" he turned to look at her. "I thought you were supposed to be fit."
"Like Tosh said, he was too quick for us. It's not as though we didn't try," she eyeballed him. "I doubt you could have caught him either, Guv, even if you were at full strength."
"Yeah well, that's debatable, isn't it? Besides, we're not talking about me, we're talking about you pair and the fact that Evans now knows that we're onto him. Given it took this long to find an address for him, what are the chances of us being able to track him down again so quickly?"
"Well, at least we've got somewhere to start from this time," Tosh replied. "And I'm sure there must be a few people on that estate who'll be glad to see the back of him. We might get something if we do a bit of digging, not to mention if we can search the property.
"You'll be whistling for a warrant."
"Why? His prints were at the scene, and we had enough to arrest him."
"Yeah, all right," Frank sighed. "It's worth a punt. See what you can do."
"Right Guv."
"As for you…" he pointed to her. "I need a word." She followed him into the office, closing the door behind him.
"I'm assuming this is a closed-door conversation," she said, upon his look.
"Yeah, probably for the best. I hear your old man's been nicked."
She visibly bristled, "Where did you hear that?"
"Around. Did they let him out or is he in HMP Lewes?"
"I don't know. I haven't had a chance to phone and find out yet."
"Well, one phone call to his flat should clarify things, shouldn't it?"
"Yeah, I suppose it might, but I don't really feel like speaking to him right now, that's all. I can't believe he's gone and done this after all these years, allegedly, on the straight and narrow."
He paused, weighing up the wisdom of his next words. "Can I do anything?"
She looked up, "Like what?"
"I know some people down that way. Maybe I could…"
"Oh yeah, I forgot you had contacts in Brighton, ones that quite happily gave you my dad's address without so much as a by-your-leave." She shook her head. "I don't need your help."
"I'm asking…"
"Well don't."
"I'm asking as your guvnor," he continued, "not as anything else. If I can help, then I want to, and I'd do the same for anyone else in here too."
She looked up again and met his gaze, "Thanks, but it's all right. I can find out for myself and then decide what, if anything, I'm going to do about it. Though, to be quite honest, if he's got himself into trouble again, it's got nothing to do with me and I don't see why I should have to even get involved."
"You don't have to get involved. He's a big boy."
"I know." She paused. "Viv told you, didn't she?"
"She was concerned about you, that's all, especially in light of your recent trip up to Leicester."
"Well, I had to say something, didn't I?"
"The trouble with lies, Chris, is that you've got to be good at telling them and have a good memory."
"I reckon we're both pretty accomplished then, Guv, don't you?"
Her look was defiant, angry, and yet he knew that, deep down, she was still hurting. "Look, I've barely been able to think about anything else since last night. I want you to know that…"
"Tosh pulled me up today," she interrupted him. "Told me that he was pretty sure you had serious feelings for me and warned me not to do anything stupid. He reminded me of how much you like to put it about."
"He said what?"
"You heard. I refrained from telling him that he was a bit late." She got to her feet. "Was there anything else?"
A thousand thoughts passed through his mind, but he chose to ignore them. "No."
"Right then. I'd best go and see if I can help track Evans down."
His gaze fell on Tosh as he watched her make her way back to her desk and he felt anger and indignation course through him. Bloody Tosh, with his wife and five kids and inability to make basic ends meet. Who was he to opine on other people's choices? There would be a moment, of that he was sure, and he wouldn't miss the little prick when it came.
