25 March 1992
"So, he's dead."
"Yes."
"What happened?"
He shifted slightly in his seat. "He jumped in front of a train."
Pat's eyes widened. "Really?" He nodded. "Was it him?"
"Preliminary forensics taken from you and the other victims would suggest it was. There's a chance he might be responsible for other cold cases, but obviously that'll take time to establish." He eyed his sister carefully. "You ok?"
"Fine," she replied tightly. "What was his name?"
"We can't release that information at the moment…not even to you," he added on her look. "We still have to track down his next of kin and inform them. As soon as that's done, I'll tell you his name, I promise." The sentiment sounded hollow, but it was the best he could do.
She nodded and then paused. "Were you there…when he jumped?"
"No, but…"
"I was." Christina's voice came from the other side of the couch, and he glanced at her. "I was there."
"Did he…did he say anything?"
"No, he just jumped." She paused. "I'm sorry."
"What for?" Pat frowned.
"For not being able to stop him."
"Well, I doubt you knew he was going to jump in front of a train," Pat laughed shortly before getting to her feet and wandering over to the window, pulling her cardigan closer around her body.
"No, but I wish I had stopped him, if only to be able to bring him to justice for you. I am sorry." The two women exchanged a long look and he found himself hoping that his sister would say the right thing. Then he felt guilty, as though he was expecting too much of her. She was the victim in all of this after all.
"You did what you could," Pat said after a moment's silence. "I can hardly hold what happened against you." Christina said nothing. "I suppose I should be grateful that he can't do it to anyone else now."
"That's one way of looking at it." He got to his feet. "Just because he's dead, doesn't mean that victim support isn't still available, if you need it."
"I'm fine."
"You don't have to…"
"Frank, I told you I'm fine." Her tone was sharp, in that way she had spoken to him in years gone by when he had been irritating her. He knew better than to argue with her and so he merely nodded. "Well, like I've said before; you know where I am."
"I do, thank you." Her face relaxed and she crossed the room to kiss his cheek. "You'd better get back to work, the pair of you."
"Yeah well…we can see ourselves out," he turned for the door.
"You're welcome any Sunday, you know that," she called after him and he turned back to look at her. "Be nice to have you both again."
"Sounds good," he replied, somewhat non-comittedly, leading the way along the hallway and out of the front door, Christina close behind. As they made their way down the path back towards the car, he glanced over at her. "Did it make you feel better?"
"What?"
"Being here when I told her he was dead."
"I suppose," she replied. "At least I got to say sorry." She paused as he unlocked the doors. "Do you think she's all right?"
"No," he replied, sliding into the driver's seat. "I don't."
"I didn't expect you to say that. I thought you'd say she's fine. I mean, she comes across as being really strong."
"Yeah, but I know her," he jammed the key into the ignition. "I can read her like a book, always could. She's putting on a front and the fact that she's reluctant to accept any help makes me nervous. Gerry's a good bloke but, well, sometimes you need more than that, don't you?"
"True. Maybe I should talk to her sometime, try and encourage her to seek some help. She might take it better coming from me than from you."
"Because I'm her brother?"
"And because you're a man."
"Thanks very much. I am capable of being sensitive and understanding, you know."
"I'm not saying that you're not but, well, when a woman's been attacked, sometimes a man, any man, is the last person she wants to speak to."
He glanced over at her as they drove through the traffic. "Is that how you felt, after what happened with Ryan?"
"I remember feeling as though I didn't need to speak to anyone about it. I regret that a bit now, given how much benefit I think I got from eventually seeing Rebecca."
He waited, ever mindful of how curious he had always been about the content of her counselling sessions. She had made a number of throwaway remarks in the past about them, explaining that she had talked about him for example, but she had never gone into any great detail. It was pure nosiness on his part, and he would never ask her directly but, still, he wondered. "Well, at least she was right about him not being able to hurt anyone else. And you didn't get the bollocking you somehow thought you would, did you?"
"No," she replied. "I could still happily punch Alistair though for trying to convince me that MS15 were going to descend and throw me off the force."
He chuckled, "As if I would have let that happen. I'd have physically stopped them."
"I'd like to have seen that. You and DCS Petch in a fight to the death. Anyway, I meant to say this earlier, but I reckon I'll have to pass that shoplifting gang enquiry over to someone else. I got my court citation in this morning for Rod Patterson, and they want me there next week."
"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "I got mine and all. Slimy git. You'd think he'd just plead guilty and spare himself the humiliation. He's banged to rights after all."
"But look how he got away before with a slap on the wrist. He's probably hoping the same is going to happen this time around." She paused and then glanced over at him. "I was thinking I should go and see my dad this weekend."
"Oh yeah…" he drew his mind back to what she had told him earlier, namely that her father had asked that they both go and visit him, for reasons as yet unknown. "You need to get to the bottom of the mystery."
"I doubt it's anything as exciting as that," she made a face, "but something's clearly up, especially given he told me to bring you with me."
"Like I said before, maybe he's going to ask me my intentions."
"Well, if he does, remember to keep it clean."
He laughed again, his mind straying back to the look on her face when she had been pressed up against the wall, his fingers taking her to the brink of ecstasy and then over the edge. He would have been lying if he had said it hadn't been a massive turn on, but it still hadn't been quite the right moment in his head for properly consummating their relationship again. Sometimes he wondered when or if that would ever change. "Well, I don't have anything on this weekend."
"What about Sunday lunch?"
He paused as they pulled up at a set of traffic lights and looked over. "Pat'll understand. Besides, I'm not convinced she genuinely wants our company right now."
"No, perhaps not."
"Be nice to get some sea air."
"At this time of year? It'll be bloody freezing, like last time."
"Yeah well, we can cuddle up together, keep each other warm." He paused. "I'll book a different hotel this time, yeah?"
She visibly shivered. "Yeah, sounds like a plan."
29 March
The weather was surprisingly bright and sunny the following Saturday, though the windchill factor left no-one in any doubt as to what time of year it was. Spring had yet to truly come alive and though the sky was blue, she was only too well aware how quickly things could change. As they sped down the A23, she couldn't help but feel a tightening in her stomach, unsure as to what would happen over the course of the next 24 hours. When she had rung her father to tell him they were coming, he had seemed pleased and offered for them to stay with him. She had graciously declined the offer, conscious that it could all have been a bit claustrophobic in the flat and grateful that Frank had seen fit to book a modest bed and breakfast instead. It would be nice, spending some time together out of London and she could only hope that whatever the underlying reason for the visit, it wouldn't take away from them being together, even if nothing physical was going to happen.
Every time she thought back to the evening in her flat when he had touched her, she could feel her temperature creep up a few notches and her groin contract. This whole courting business was all good and well, but she would be lying if she said that she didn't feel totally frustrated at times.
"What time did you tell your dad we'd go over?" he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
"About four-ish? I said we'd probably have tea there or something."
"Well, we should be there in the next hour, so we'll have a good two hours or so to kill."
"There's always the arcades."
"Oh yeah? Good at the old games, are you?"
"You'll have to take me on and find out."
"Challenge accepted."
As they neared their destination, she felt her mind straying once more to court the following week and facing Rod Patterson. The thought gave her an uneasy feeling, though she wasn't entirely sure why. All she would be doing was speaking to her part in his arrest for the trafficking. It wasn't as though anything else was relevant, including what had happened previously, and yet somehow, she felt a growing sense of trepidation about the whole thing. That was why she hoped this weekend wouldn't be filled with too much angst. She needed something good, something nice before she took the stand.
The bed and breakfast was small but spotlessly clean and situated within walking distance of her father's flat. Once they had checked in, under Frank's name, they wrapped up warmly and made their way onto the promenade, strolling hand in hand together as though they had not a care in the world. It was so very different from the last time they had been there together, though the less said about that, the better as far as she was concerned. In the arcades, they pitted themselves against one another, her regularly coming out the victor before he declared he was going to win her a teddy bear and promptly spent far too much money attempting to do so.
"I don't know where I'm going to put it," she said as they headed back along the seafront. "It's massive!"
"Stick it in a corner and look at it fondly when you think of me," he replied.
"Should I just call him Frank then?"
"If you like." Her prize safely deposited back at the bed and breakfast, they then made their way towards her father's flat, and she felt her stomach start to churn again. "You all right?"
"Yeah, fine," she lied, pressing the buzzer and announcing their presence. "I just hope he's not about to tell me he's going back to jail."
"Seems unlikely surely?"
"I hope so." She led the way up the stairs to her father's door, it opening as they approached revealing the man himself. "Hello Dad."
"Hello Goldilocks, I'm glad you came," he replied, enveloping her in a hug before turning to Frank. "Nice to see you again too, Frank."
"And you," he replied, shaking the older man's hand.
"Well, come on in then."
They followed him into the living room and sat down, whereupon Bill started asking them questions about their journey and what they had done that afternoon before moving on to more generalities about work. It all felt so superficial and laced with underlying mystery that, before long, she couldn't stand it anymore.
"Dad…are you in trouble?"
"Trouble?" he frowned, "How do you mean?"
"Well, I know the case against you got dropped last year but, well, have you been arrested again?"
"No, of course not," he laughed, "whatever gave you that idea?"
"Well, it's just…" she fought for the right words. "It's all a bit mysterious, you saying that you wanted to see both of us."
"All I said was that it would be nice to see you and that if you wanted to bring Frank here with you that would be good. Nothing suspicious about that, is there?"
She glanced at Frank and then back at her father again, wondering if it was all in her own mind. Perhaps he really had just wanted to see them, like any father might want to see his daughter, but yet something just didn't feel quite right. "I…"
"Listen, why don't you go out and get us some fish suppers eh?" Bill got to his feet and reached into his pocket. "Good Sole, just down the road, do the best round here. You'll have fish and chips, won't you Frank?"
"Oh…uh…yeah, that would be fine."
"There you go," Bill handed her some notes. "Get whatever you fancy."
She looked at the money and then back at Frank, who raised his eyebrows at her. Maybe he had been right all along. Maybe her father wanted to ask him what his intentions were, like any normal, caring father would. Perhaps there was nothing more sinister to it than that. Perhaps she should give him the benefit of the doubt. "Oh…right…ok then." Reaching for her coat, she swung it around her shoulders. "I'll be back shortly then."
"Take your time," Bill said, "No rush."
She put her hand on the doorknob and turned back around to look at them both, sat as they were opposite one another, before pulling it open and hurrying out into the hallway.
XXXX
"So," Bill said when they were alone. "Just you and me then."
"Is this the part where you beat me up?" Frank asked, only half considering it to be unlikely.
Bill laughed, "Not unless you want me to."
"Not especially."
"I reckon you could take me anyway." He paused and looked him in the eye. "So, what are your intentions towards my daughter?"
Frank tried not to laugh at the predictability of it all. "What do you think my intentions are?"
"I don't know, that's why I'm asking." Bill's eyes narrowed. "Last time you were here, things didn't end so well between you and her."
"Tell me about it."
"And now?"
"Things are different now. We both know what we want."
"Which is?"
He paused, weighing up how much he really cared about satisfying whatever expectation the other man had and yet knowing that it was a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things. "I want to marry her."
"She's already married."
"Once she gets divorced, obviously."
Bill nodded slowly, "And that's what she wants too, is it?"
He thought for a moment, trying to remember the last conversation they had had about it. He recalled leaving her in no uncertain terms that he wanted to marry her, but he couldn't recall whether or not she had said the same. He could only assume it was what she wanted, based on earlier conversations, back before Stewart had found out about them. "Yes, I believe so."
"You're a bit older than she is."
He shifted slightly uncomfortably. "You're only as old as you feel. I'm not exactly heading to the knacker's yard yet."
"Hmmm…you'll look after her?"
"Of course."
"Good." Bill shifted in his chair. "I haven't been the best father." It was somewhat of an understatement, but he didn't really want to mention that, so he said nothing. "I'm sad that we were estranged for so long."
"Well, I suppose it's good that you're back in touch now."
"Yeah…listen, I don't really want to tell her this but, well, I haven't got long to live."
The words were said so bluntly that, at first, he wasn't sure he had heard right. "Sorry, what?"
"I haven't got long to live," Bill repeated. "I've got cancer in my pancreas. Doctor told me a few weeks ago that I've probably got six months left at best."
For a moment, he thought it was a joke; a bad one. "You're not serious."
"Course I'm serious. Why would I make up something like that?" Bill shook his head. "It's a right kick in the guts though, I don't mind telling you that. Figured I had years left yet. Time to make up for the past. I suppose I figured, with her away from Stewart and being with you, I might be able to turn things around. Guess the Almighty had other plans for me."
Immediately his thoughts went to Christina, how she would feel when she found out. He could only imagine. Having been estranged for so long only to reconnect and then be faced with this…
"I'm not going to tell her, and I don't want you to either."
Stunned, he stared at the other man. "You what?"
"Look, she doesn't need to know. It'll only make her feel bad and I don't want that for her. If she gets divorced and you pair get married, then she'll be happy and it won't matter so much once I'm gone, if she'd even mourn me at all, that is. She's been through enough without having this hanging over her too."
"Bill…"
"Come on…"
"How can I not tell her? I can't keep something like that from her and neither should you! She's your daughter and she deserves to know!"
"I'm trying to protect her!"
"And how is she going to feel when you just shuffle off your mortal coil one day and then she finds out that I knew all along?" he shook his head, the betrayal too much to even contemplate. "I am not starting a proper relationship with her on the back of a lie. If you don't tell her, I will."
The door suddenly opened at that moment and Christina reappeared, her face flushed from the stiff breeze. "I forgot my hat," she said, lifting it from where it sat on the couch and then pausing to look at them both. "Everything all right?"
"Everything's fine," Bill replied hurriedly.
Her eyes darted between them, her expression clearly indicative of the fact that she didn't believe him. "Frank?"
"Yeah…" he got to his feet. "Tell you what, I'll go to the chip shop. You stay here and talk to your dad."
"What? Why?"
He moved over towards her, lifting his jacket from where he had discarded it. "I think it would be good for the pair of you to talk." She glanced between them again. "Honestly."
"What does that mean? Dad?"
"I'll leave you to it," he said, before either one of them could say any more. Moving past her, he opened the door and disappeared out into the stairwell, closing it behind him again and hoping that her father could find the courage to at least be truthful with her.
XXXX
"So…there you go. At least I'm not telling you I'm going back inside like you feared, eh?"
He was talking, but she wasn't sure she could understand the words. All her brain was able to compute in that moment was the fact that, a few seconds earlier, he had told her that he was dying. It seemed as though everything around her had ceased to exist and she was stuck in a loop of hearing it over and over again. She found she had no voice, no words of her own to express how hearing the news made her feel. She had no concept of Frank returning with the food, though she could hear both men talking around her. It was only when Frank took hold of her arm that she found herself connecting to something other than her own thoughts and she looked up at him, as though hoping he could provide some sort of reasoning for what was happening.
"Tea's up," he said, smiling gently at her and assisting her up onto her feet and across to the table.
She sat down and looked at the plate of fish and chips in front of her, all appetite suddenly deserting her. The two of them continued to speak around her, shorts bursts of conversation that she couldn't tap into and then suddenly, when she lifted her eyes and met those of her father across the table, she felt a sudden jolt within her body. Here she was, lost in her own thoughts, and yet he was the one with the death sentence. Everything suddenly came at her in a rush, and she shivered violently, before lifting a chip and forcing it into her mouth, a thousand different thoughts suddenly battling for prominence in her brain. "You can't stay here," she said, suddenly breaking the silence. "Not on your own."
"Of course I can."
"You're only going to get weaker, aren't you, over time? How will you manage?"
Bill smiled at her. "Don't worry about me, Goldilocks."
"How can I not worry after what you've just told me? How can I go back to London knowing you're here dealing with that all on your own?" He looked at her as though she had slightly lost her mind and, in one sense, she couldn't blame him. For all the interest she had taken in him in the last few years to now suddenly be so concerned must have seemed strange. She didn't even know how she felt about his news, deep down. "You could come to London."
"No," he shook his head. "No, I'm quite happy here, thank you very much."
"Then…then I'll come here. I'll stay here and look after you." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Frank's head snap up and she could only imagine the expression on his face, though he at least had the good grace to stay silent. "It's the least I can do."
Her father looked at her kindly and then shook his head. "I don't want that either. You've got a life up in London, not to mention a very demanding job. You can't just decide to up sticks and come down here."
"I could ask for compassionate leave."
"No."
"Frank wouldn't deny it and I'm sure the Chief Inspector would…"
"I said no," Bill said quietly, but firmly. "I don't want you down here anymore than you want to be down here. I've managed this far on my own since your mother died, and I'll manage until such time as I need proper care."
"But…"
"Tell her, Frank," his gaze swivelled. "Tell her it's a bad idea."
She looked over at him and could tell he was conflicted in what he should say. "Well, I…"
"So, I'm just supposed to go back to London and leave you here to fend for yourself?"
"Let's be honest, Chris. Until last year, you weren't really worried if I was alive or dead, were you?"
"Of course I was! I…"
"Not really," he pressed her gently. "It's only since all this business with Stewart that we've reconnected on some level and, don't get me wrong, I'm very grateful for that, but let's not pretend we have the kind of father and daughter relationship that others do."
She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, not just at the truth of his words, but at the fact that it had all come to this. That he was going to die, and they had never really, properly mended all the broken fences. "That doesn't mean that I don't care."
"I know that but, like I said, you've got your own life to lead and your own family to build." He nodded over at Frank. "This one told me earlier he wanted to marry you. Nothing would make me happier than to know that you were happy, in a way I was never sure you were with Stewart."
Marriage. There it was again, the assumption that it was what she wanted to do the second her divorce was granted, that it was the answer to every problem that ever existed. Was she the only person who thought that perhaps, some time just being herself, rather than being someone's wife, was a good idea? She looked over at Frank who was watching her carefully and though she felt a swelling of feeling towards him, she wasn't convinced that it was enough to persuade her to take that step…yet. What would be so wrong with them just dating, or courting as he insisted on calling it, so long as all the physical advantages were there?
"There has to be something I can do!" she exclaimed.
Bill smiled at her. "Live your life and be happy. That's all any parent can ask of their child."
She wasn't sure how she got through the rest of the evening. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, so many things she felt they needed to talk about and yet she couldn't find the words. By the time they were bidding her father goodnight she felt numb again, oblivious to the cold wind that whipped around them as they made their way back to the bed and breakfast and bid the cheerful landlady goodnight before climbing the stairs to their room. She lay under the duvet looking up at the ceiling barely reacting when Frank slid into the bed beside her.
"Do you want to talk?" he asked softly.
"Not really."
He paused, "Do you want…?"
"Sex?" she turned her head to look at him and he nodded imperceptibly. Part of her wanted nothing more than to feel him touch her, caress her, move inside her but another part, much like he had felt in the aftermath of Pat's attack, didn't want their reunion coming as a result of her father's news. There had to be a better time. "No. I just…" Tears filled her eyes again and emotion rose in her throat. He slid his arm around her, pulling her back against him, kissing her neck and holding her to him whilst she battled with all the terrible feelings of guilt and loss. When her father was gone, there would be nobody left. Nobody except Frank.
"Stay with me," she whispered, and he squeezed her in response.
"Always."
