Apologies for the delay in updating!
She followed him down the stairs and he could feel her eyes on his back, boring into him with some sense of righteous indignation. Pushing open the door of one of the interview rooms, he held it for her and she narrowed her eyes at him.
"Because giving me a bollocking in here is less suspicious than giving me one in your office?"
"Get in." With a sigh, she stepped past him inside and he closed the door over behind them. "You were out of order up there."
"I was out of order? The only person out of order was you!"
"You had no business saying what you said about Phil in front of the others!"
"And you had no business saying what you said about me!" she retorted, eyes flashing angrily.
"It is nobody else's business whether he's my nephew or not," he barrelled on, ignoring her. "Now, by shouting your mouth off, everyone knows and there's even less chance of being able to drop him out of it!"
"Maybe he shouldn't be dropped out of it! Maybe he needs this as a lesson!"
"And screw up his entire future?!" he shook his head. "He's a kid; he's made a mistake." She raised her eyebrows at him. "All right, maybe more than one, but he doesn't deserve his entire life to go swirling around the bog just because he's been hanging around with the wrong crowd. You know how hard it is for kids to get jobs these days if they've been in trouble with the police. It's a slippery slope. No job, no prospects…inside before you know it."
"And letting him away with it is just giving him the wrong message! Any time he's in trouble, Uncle Frank will sort it."
"That's what family is all about!"
"Well, I wouldn't know, according to you, would I? Given that I've got nothing and nobody."
"That's not what I meant…"
"No?"
"No." He paused and looked at her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it."
"No, you shouldn't have. How do you think it makes me feel? I'm very well aware of the fact that my mother's dead, I've got no siblings and my father's dying. I don't need you to sling it at me like some sort of insult!" Her eyes started to shine under the light, and she turned away from him."
"I'm sorry…"
"You're as bad as Stewart."
The comparison brought him up short. "You what?"
"He used to always remind me of the fact that I had joined his family…that I didn't really have any of my own because I wasn't on good terms with them, that I should be grateful that his family had accepted me." She turned back to look at him. "Is that how it's going to be with you too? That I'll have to be grateful for marrying into the Burnsides'? Because if it is, Frank, I'm really not interested in going down that road again. I'd rather end up with someone with no family of their own than have to constantly feel as though I need to remember to count my blessings that I've been allowed to join yours."
"That isn't…that's not…that's not how it would be."
"No?"
"No." Sighing heavily, he thrust his hands into his pockets. "It's just…I can't make it better for her."
"Who?"
"Pat. She can smile and pretend all she wants to my face, but I know that, deep down, she's not over what happened to her and there's nothing I can say or do to change that. All I can do, is try and help out when shit like this happens, shit that she doesn't need right now." He paused. "It's not that I don't think Phil deserves a short, sharp shock for what he's been involved in but his mother…well, she doesn't"
It was her turn to sigh and perch on the edge of the desk. "I can understand how you feel."
"Can you?"
"Yes. All right, I might not have a sister, or understand what that relationship's like, but I'm not completely ignorant. Not to mention the fact that I was the one who let that creep jump in front of the train. You think I don't feel bad about that?"
"It's not about that…"
"It's part of it though, isn't it? The fact that there's no justice for Pat, or any of the others, can't be helping her work through what happened. If you feel guilty, how do you think I feel?" She shook her head. "The only person who should be feeling guilty right now is Phil, for getting himself mixed up with that lot, for getting himself nicked!"
He came and perched beside her. "So, what do we do?"
She paused for a long moment. "Well, you're the boss at the end of the day."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, it's your call. But ultimately, this is a uniform collar and a beat crime. If you want to pull strings to get Phil out of it without looking as though that's what you're doing, you're going to have to come up with some sort of plausible reason for doing so."
"So…I'm on my own then."
"I won't let you force me into doing your dirty work for you," she glanced at him. "It's not fair, Frank, especially when you know you wouldn't ask anyone else to do it."
He knew, deep down, that she was right, but it had always been in his nature to look for an angle, something, anything to help secure the outcome he wanted. This time was no different. "We've already broken the rules."
"This is different. Besides, I'd like to limit my rule-breaking as much as possible, especially now I'm a sergeant. Look, I'll do whatever I can to help, but please don't ask me to stick my neck out like that again."
"All right," he conceded, "so long as you don't ever compare me to your bastard of an ex-husband again."
"Don't act like him and I won't have to compare you to him," she replied, meeting his gaze coolly in a way that both irritated and aroused him.
For a brief moment, he wondered if there was time for a quickie, before sense returned to his brain. "Point taken. So, what do you think I should do then?"
"Find out the facts and appeal to Monroe."
"Oh well that's great advice that is," he rolled his eyes. "Appeal to Monroe? He'd likely take great pleasure in throwing the book at Phil if he knew he was related to me."
"He is duty officer, and he's got kids. Maybe he'll be sympathetic."
"Have you met Andrew Monroe? He's got about as much sympathy as Hitler."
"That's a bit harsh," she laughed.
"Harsh, but true."
"He's not as black as you paint him, you know."
"Oh yeah," he eyed her speculatively, "and how would you know? You been cosying up to him behind my back?"
"Of course not," she rolled her eyes. "There's only one inspector in this nick that I care about."
"Glad to hear it." Leaning over, he kissed her gently. "But, for the record, don't talk to me like that in front of the others again, got it?"
"Yes Guv," she replied, her breath warm against his face. "Whatever you say."
"Get back upstairs before this bollocking becomes physical."
Grinning at him, she got to her feet and made her way over to the door, pulling it open and winking at him before stepping back out into the corridor. For a moment, he remained where he was, basking somewhat in the feelings that always swept through him whenever she was near him. Then the moment was lost, and he got to his feet, steeling himself at the prospect of having to go cap in hand to Monroe.
XXXX
"Everything all right?" Viv asked when she returned to her desk. "Thought you were being taken away for a literal arse-kicking then."
"No, it's fine," she replied. "He's just pissed off at Phil getting himself nicked, that's all."
"Understandably. What's he going to do about it?"
"Appeal to Monroe's good nature, I think."
"Good luck to him with that," Viv laughed. "You fancy a night out tonight?"
"I suppose…"
"Well, it was your birthday the other day and you've been promoted. I reckon that calls for a few glasses of wine, don't you? If you can bear to still socialise with us plebs, that is."
"Very funny," she laughed. "Are we thinking girls' night out or…?"
"Well, the last girls' night out you left early, remember?"
"How could I forget?" she replied, the memory of what had transpired in O'Hares, and afterwards, coming back to her. She winced inwardly as she recalled Frank's words to her in the street and her slapping him in response. So much had changed, even since then.
"Girls' night out?" Jim said, coming back into the room. "How come you keep excluding us men then?"
"We're not," Viv replied, "we just haven't decided yet whether or not we should invite you."
"More fun with us blokes there."
"If you say so."
"So, are we invited or not?"
"Only if we can go somewhere a bit more upmarket than the pub," Christina said.
"Where then?"
"I don't know, somewhere trendier. What about that new bar on the corner of Miller Street? What's it called, Volcano?"
Jim wrinkled his nose, "You mean Vesuvius? Won't it be full of yuppies?"
"Nothing wrong with a yuppie, Jim," Mike piped up from the corner. "You might find yourself a better class of girlfriend in a place like that."
"Well, you'll fit in rather well then, won't you?" Jim shot back.
"I can't deny it."
"Sounds like a winner," Viv smiled. "Straight after the shift then?"
"I can't see Burnside rating the place much," Jim observed.
"Well, maybe he won't come then."
She tuned out as the phone on her desk started ringing. "CID, DS Lewis." Her stomach flipped over just saying the words. It was a nice feeling, rank.
"Oh, hello Sarge," Reg's voice floated down the line from the front desk. "Congratulations, by the way."
"Thanks Reg. What can I do for you?"
"There's a woman here asking to see you. Well, actually, she wanted to see DI Burnside, but I can't find him, so she said that you would do instead."
"How accommodating of her. Who is she?"
"A Miss Burton."
"Never heard of her. What does she want?"
"She didn't say. I've put them in the front interview room though."
"Ok, I'll be right down." She made to replace the receiver, then suddenly had an afterthought. "Oh Reg…Reg, who's 'they'?" The dial tone sounded in her ear, and defeated, she hung up and got to her feet.
"Problem?" Viv asked.
"Just someone here to see me," she replied. "I'll be back in a bit." As she left the office and made her way along the corridor, the doors at the other end opened and she came face to face with Jack.
"How's the first day going?" he asked.
"Fine Guv, thanks."
"Good. Have you got a minute? There's a new project that I was wanting to discuss with you."
"There's someone waiting for me downstairs at the front desk. Can I come and see you once I'm done?"
"Yeah, of course. It can wait."
"Thanks Guv." Hopping down the stairs, she made her way over to the front interview room and opened the door to be suddenly greeted by the sight of a pram and a blonde-haired woman bent over it, clearly soothing the baby it contained, whose soft mewlings filled the air.
"I'm DS Lewis," she said. "You were looking to speak to me?" The woman straightened up and turned to meet her gaze and she found herself surprised by recognition. "Oh. I…umm…I didn't realise it was you."
"That's all right," Fiona replied, jiggling the pram gently. "I heard that copper at the front desk refer to me as Miss Burton. I knew that you wouldn't know who I was."
"Right." She paused and glanced at the pram. "Boy or girl?"
"Boy. Stephen."
"Lovely name. So…what can I do for you?"
"Well…it really wasn't you I came to see."
"No, I know that you were looking for DI Burnside but he's…" she paused as a cold sensation suddenly filled her stomach and glanced from Fiona to the baby and then back again… "busy…"
"Yeah, I gathered as much."
"I…ah…" she tried to force words into her mouth, but her brain appeared to have stopped computing properly and all she could do was stare at the baby lying in front of her.
As though she was almost deliberately trying to make things worse, Fiona reached into the pram and lifted the baby into her arms. He was wrapped in a white shawl, but she could see his perfect pink face, eyes staring at the ceiling, his small fingers, reaching out to grab hold of his mother's locks. "He's three months," Fiona said.
"He's…ummm…he's beautiful," she heard herself say, but the words sounded far away to her ears and as though they had come from someone else.
"He's Frank's."
"Mmmm…" she felt her stomach heave and her throat contract all at once and she had no idea what to say or do. Moving her gaze from the baby to Fiona, she tried desperately to read some sort of humour in the other woman's face, to find a sign that it was some kind of joke. But Fiona just looked at her impassively. "I can…uh…I can try and find him for you."
"Thanks, I'd appreciate it. I'm sorry, this isn't anything to do with you."
"No…uh…no, it isn't." Not wanting to appear desperate to leave but feeling like she wanted nothing more than to do just that, she slowly backed away, opened the door to the interview room and stepped back out into the front office.
Reg looked up as she did so, "Everything all right?"
"Fine," she replied shortly, "can you let me through?" The security door buzzed, and she stepped into the corridor, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other as she made her way towards custody. Through the swing doors, she could see Frank and Andrew engaged in conversation, their body language indicative of the fact that it was clearly a strained exchange, Matthew sat at the custody desk, his head bobbing between them as though watching a tennis match.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you expect me to do," Andrew was saying as she pushed open the door.
"I'm not expecting you to do anything," Frank replied. "I'm asking you to look at the evidence and make an appropriate decision here."
"A decision that benefits your nephew, you mean."
"A decision that fits with the facts."
"I don't know the facts, yet."
"Excuse me," she said, her voice barely carrying. "Can I have a word please, Guv?"
Frank turned frustrated eyes on her, "Can it wait?"
"No, not really."
Nodding, he gestured to the far office. "Sanctimonious git," he muttered as they stepped inside and closed the door. "He's loving the fact that I'm asking him for a favour and he's going to do everything in his power to find a way to tell me to sling my hook, professionally speaking."
"Well, maybe I could speak to him."
"I thought you wanted to stay squeaky clean." He paused and squinted at her. "You all right? You're as pale as a ghost."
"Fiona's here to see you."
"Fiona?"
"The Fiona you used to date. I've just left her in the front office."
"Yeah, I remember who she is. What's she doing here and why is she speaking to you?"
"She asked to speak to you, Reg couldn't find you, so she asked for me." She felt her head start to swim and leaned back against the door for support, causing him to take a step towards her which instantly filled her with panic. "Don't."
Glancing out of the window to where Matthew still sat in their eyeline, he shook his head. "If you're unwell, no-one's going to bat an eyelid at me trying to help you."
"I'm not unwell."
"So, what's wrong?"
"She's not alone."
"Who?"
"Fiona," she replied, irritation pouring itself on top of whatever the hell else she felt at that moment, the true nature of which she wasn't entirely sure. "She's got a baby with her."
"A baby?"
"Yeah, Stephen. He's three months old." She swallowed hard, aware that what she was about to say was going to change everything. "He's yours, apparently."
For a moment, Frank just stared at her seemingly uncomprehendingly, blinking being the only outward sign that he was still physically present. "He's what?"
"Yours. Three months old…that means he was born in March so, nine months before that takes us back to June of last year…before we went to Spain…" the short walk from the front office to custody had allowed for all the calculations that were needed.
"No…no that's not possible…"
"It is."
"No, I mean…I never…we were careful. Every time, we were careful, and I haven't slept with her since…"
"My birthday last year," she said softly. "I came to your door, remember? I disturbed you…"
"No…"
"You should go and talk to her." She straightened up and moved away from the door, turning to open it only for him to step in-between.
"Chris, wait…"
"You need to talk to her."
"But…"
"Let me past."
"Chris…"
"Let me past!" she heard her voice shake, felt her eyes start to pool with tears and tried to push them away. It wasn't about her, couldn't be about her. It was about him and Fiona and their child…her stomach heaved again. "You owe it to her."
"I owe…" his words were lost to her as she pulled open the door and hurried back into custody, opening the yard door and stepping outside in the balmy afternoon air. She walked without stopping, without looking back or thinking about what she should be doing and kept going until she had no real clue as to where she was.
XXXX
"Oh sir, there's a woman in the front interview room who came in to see you."
"Thank you, Reg." He stood near the front desk, staring at the closed interview room door, not entirely sure what to do. He wished he could erase the last few moments, wish he could go back to the argument with Monroe before he'd heard any of it, before she had told him any of it…it didn't seem real, couldn't possibly be real…
"She's got a baby with her."
He looked at the other man, wondering if he meant anything by his words, wondering if he knew or suspected the reason for Fiona's visit. But Reg was simply looking at him with the same little smile he always wore, clearly none the wiser. He knew he should move, knew he should go into the room lest his hesitation start to appear suspicious, but he found it almost impossible to move.
"You all right sir?" Reg asked, his face clouding with concern.
"I'm fine," he replied, forcing one foot in front of the other as he crossed the space and pushed open the door. Fiona was sitting in the chair at the far side of the desk, the baby in her arms, his mouth at her exposed breast. "Christ…" he said, averting his gaze to the other wall.
"It's perfectly natural," she said. "How else is he supposed to eat? Besides, it's not as if you haven't seen my tits before." He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. "She told you then, Ginger?"
Anger suddenly surged through him at the realisation of why she had chosen to tell Christina. "Yeah, she told me, and you deliberately told her, didn't you?"
"Well, you weren't available and she's the only other person I know here. I thought it was the best option after I'd managed to get us all the way here." She paused. "I know it must be a bit of a surprise…"
"Bloody understatement! You didn't think to mention it when you first found out?"
"I didn't think there was much point."
"And there's a point now, is there?"
"Kids are expensive, Frank."
"Jesus…" he ran his hand over his eyes. "I thought we'd been careful."
"Yeah well, you know what they say about condoms. Only 99% effective."
He couldn't help thinking back to the day when Christina had found out that Stewart was going to plead guilty, when she had been unwell and he had, for a moment, considered that she might be pregnant. He had been apprehensive at the thought but, underneath it all…
But this? This was so far removed from what he'd ever wanted as to be some sort of cruel, sick joke.
"Don't you want to look at him?"
He paused and then turned back to look at her as she covered herself up. Fed and sated, the baby was calm, his eyes screwed shut, his cheeks pink and rosy. She got to her feet and came around the desk towards him.
"Do you want to hold him?"
He looked down at the child that was allegedly his son and had no idea how he was supposed to feel. People…fathers…were supposed to have time to get used to the idea, to build themselves up to that first moment of seeing their own flesh and blood, not have it suddenly thrust upon them in a police station. He searched the baby's face, looking for any sign of recognition and finding none.
"I want a DNA test."
Fiona's expression clouded over. "I knew you'd say that."
"What do you expect?"
"Look at him!"
"So what? All babies look the same! He could be anyone's!"
"You bastard…"
"Yeah, I've been called worse." He moved away from her back towards the door. "If you want a penny out of me, which is clearly what you're here for, I want to see, in black and white, that that kid's mine."
"I thought you might actually want a relationship with him. I thought you might want to be his father!" she said acerbically, turning back to the pram and placing the baby back inside. "To think I thought you might have felt something looking at your own child…I should have known better." She paused and turned back to look at him. "You and Ginger are together, aren't you?"
"Her name's Christina, as well you know."
"Aren't you?"
"What has that got to do with you?"
"I'm the mother of your child, Frank. I've got every right to know!"
Her very words made his whole body shiver. He didn't want her as the mother of his child, not by a long shot. "Piss off," he replied. "And don't come back here until you can prove he's mine."
"You're going to regret this! You can't just shirk your responsibilities you know!"
"If he's mine, I'll pay for him."
"Oh well, that's big of you! What about being a father, a role model?" She shook her head. "Silly me. You're not cut out for any of that."
"Out," he opened the door and held it for her as she pushed the pram back into the front office. As she walked towards the main door, she turned back to look at him and he could see the cogs turning in her head. He waited, holding his breath, to see if she would make some sort of declaration. But she didn't. Forcing open the door she pushed the pram outside and stormed towards the main road.
"Everything all right, sir?" Reg piped up.
He had no answer, not for Reg or for himself.
So he said nothing.
