Sorry for the huge delay again! Work has been so busy and my motivation has been up and down!
25 June 1992
"This is ridiculous!"
"Is it? I left messages telling you I was going to be coming here for this."
"I don't see why we have to do it this way!"
"What way would you prefer? Me just hand over my DNA for you to do what you like with? Forget it." Frank paused. "You going to let us in or what?"
Fiona glared at him before stepping back from the door and allowing him inside. Walking down the hallway and into the small living room he could tell that living with a baby clearly created something akin to chaos. There were clothes and other baby paraphernalia spread all around, and he was only glad that there was no sign of the child himself.
"Who's this?" Fiona demanded, pointing to the man who had followed him in.
"This is my mate, Stan, from forensics."
"Forensics? Our son's a crime now, is he?"
He winced slightly at the collective way she referred to the baby, unwilling to let his thoughts linger any longer than they needed to. In the past week, he had thought of little else save what the consequences would be if it turned out Stephen was his child. "I can trust Stan to do it right. He's a professional."
"Yeah, and I'm sure not above doctoring the test to suit your ends."
"I'm sure he resents that," he said, before Stan could respond. "You'll get a proper certified letter with the result once it comes through, either way." He paused and looked at her. "Unless there's anything you want to say now?"
"Like what?"
"Like he's not my son and this whole charade is a waste of everybody's time."
Fiona paused and looked away briefly before returning a defiant gaze. "So, what do we have to do then?"
"I need to take a sample from the baby," Stan said, putting his briefcase down. "I'll then take a sample from Frank and run a DNA test."
"And how accurate is it?"
"99.99 per cent."
She paused again. "You're not taking my baby's blood."
"A hair sample will be sufficient."
Frank waited in the living room whilst Fiona showed Stan through to the bedroom and wandered over to the window, trying to avoid the debris on the floor. A clean white Babygro lay over the arm of the sofa, small and innocent. For a moment, he felt his insides turn over at the realisation that he did want to be a father…just not with Fiona as the mother. A few moments later, Fiona and Stan reappeared. "You get what you need?"
"No problem."
"Good. Well, we'll be on our way then."
"You don't even want to see him?" Fiona asked, as he headed for the living room door. Pausing, he turned back to face her, painfully aware that if she was lying, she was giving an Oscar winning performance.
"No thanks," he replied, the words sounding harsh to his ears. "Another time maybe."
"You're going to regret this," she said, following them to the door. "I'm going to take you for every penny you've got and then I'm going to tell our son what a complete and utter deadbeat his father is!"
He turned around to deliver a cutting reply, only for the door to be slammed abruptly in his face. "Well, at least that's over," he said, rallying himself and following Stan back down the path to where they had left their cars. "How long will it take, do you reckon?"
"A few days, maybe a week."
"A week? Can't you put a rush on it? This is my life we're talking about here!"
"I'm sorry Frank, but I'm already doing you a massive favour by entertaining this at all. I can't just jump the queue."
He sighed in resignation. "Fine, but as quick as you can, yeah? The sooner I can get rid of her and her ridiculous claims, the better."
"Indeed, unless the test proves positive, that is."
"Well, there's no point in being pessimistic now, is there?"
"No," Stan replied, shooting him a look. "None at all."
He drove back to the station in silence, contemplating the other man's words. If the test was positive, he genuinely had no idea what he was going to do. It was the last thing he wanted, and yet he had always scorned men who played no part in their children's lives. If you help create a life, you have to take responsibility for it. The only problem was it was ruining everything. Despite what she had said about being supportive, Christina remained distant. They had barely seen each other outside of work in the last week and he had spent every night since in bed alone. Deep down it scared him that gaining a son could possibly mean losing his future wife.
As he made his way up to the CID office, he met Jack coming down the stairs, a frown crossing his face. "I've been looking for you."
"Why, what have I done?"
"Nothing, which is the point. What's happening with that racial case that Martella was dealing with last week?"
"The victims didn't want to press charges. They're too afraid of possible reprisals."
"So, we just let it go?"
"Well, I don't understand what else you want us to do, Guv. If they won't help themselves…"
"Race relations are at an all time low between the police and the communities," Jack replied. "We can't be seen to be cancelling out these kinds of cases."
"So, what do you suggest, exactly?"
"I suggest you come up with some sort of plan as to how we move forwards. I've been speaking to Donna, and this will be the sixth case in the last eight months where we've taken no action where the crime has clearly been motivated by race. Now, I want something down on paper from you by the end of this week exploring how we can change that." Jack paused. "Do you have a problem with that?"
"No Guv."
"A bit of enthusiasm might not go amiss here, you know. The role of a DI is to inspire."
"Is it?" he replied before he could stop himself. "Sometimes I wonder."
Jack frowned. "Is everything all right? Personally, I mean?"
A cold wave washed through him, "How do you mean?"
"Well, you haven't really seemed yourself this last week or so. If there's something playing on your mind, Frank, something that's affecting your work, I am here to help."
He paused, briefly wondering what it would be like to unburden himself to the other man. Jack was a man of the world, albeit married with children, but he was also his superior officer and divulging what was going on with Fiona could only lead to the potential for divulging what was between him and Christina, and that was a non-starter.
"I'm fine Guv, honestly. It's just this thing with my nephew getting arrested last week and my sister's still recovering from her attack…" he felt bad using family to cover, but it seemed the only available option.
"I can understand that," Jack replied. "Families are tricky. If you need some time, just let me know."
"Thanks Guv, but I reckon I'm ok."
"All right then. End of the week for that paper."
"Guv…" he headed back up into the office, Viv being the only one there. "Where is everyone?"
"Out on enquiries," she replied without lifting her head. "Chris is doing the domestic violence training."
"I thought that was next week?"
"No, today and tomorrow." She looked up at him. "Problem?"
"No, why would there be a problem?" It was a question he really didn't want her to answer, so he turned back into his office and sat down behind his desk. Moments later, he realised she was hovering in the doorway. "Something on your mind?"
"It's none of my business…"
"Well then."
"…but she is my mate…"
"Oh, here we go."
"…and she told me about Fiona."
"Did she now?" He looked up at her. "What did she tell you?"
Viv glanced behind her. "That apparently, you've fathered her child. Chris seemed pretty upset about it."
"She's not the only one. It's bollocks," he added, unsure for whose benefit.
"She also told me that, well, that the two of you were engaged."
"I see…" he sat back in his chair, "and being her good mate, you gave her the benefit of your words of wisdom, did you?"
"I said I was concerned, if that's what you mean."
"Really." The cheek of the woman was almost breath-taking. "Well, given that what Christina and I do in our private life has absolutely nothing to do with you, I don't think we need to take this conversation any further."
"What are you doing, Guv?" Viv shook her head. "You know that you're risking your job and hers, not to mention the fact that her dad's sick and…"
"And what?" he asked, when she trailed off. "Spit it out Martella. You've never been backwards at coming forwards before."
"Well, I reckon some people might see it as you trying to take advantage of her when she's vulnerable."
"Some people meaning you."
"Look…" Viv stepped forwards. "When it all came out in court about you pair, she was a mess. Then she built herself back up again and now…"
"Now I'm going to drag her down again, is that what you mean?"
Viv sighed. "I just don't see how you can even think about getting married with the way things are right now, Guv. I mean, what are you going to do, keep it a secret? And what if that baby is yours?"
"Well, thankfully, Martella, you don't need to concern yourself about the answer to either of those questions, do you?"
"I care about her, Guv, and…well…I care about you too."
"I'm touched. Haven't you got some work to be getting on with?"
"Guv…"
"I think we're better off bringing this conversation to an end before things get said that can't be unsaid, don't you?" He was desperately trying to keep his anger in check and knew he was seconds away from saying things he shouldn't and busting her right out of CID and back down to uniform. To her credit, she didn't push it, merely sighed heavily and went back to her own desk.
It was so hard to believe that in the space of a week, all the good things that had happened; her birthday, her promotion and their engagement, could have turned into one stinking pile of crap.
XXXX
"Well, well, well, fancy seeing you here."
Christina paused where she had been about to press the button for another cup of, frankly, dishwater like coffee, and turned to look at the person she thought was addressing her. To her surprise, she found herself face to face with Harry Grimm, someone she hadn't seen since that fateful day in court the previous year when it had all come out about her affair with Frank. Notwithstanding the fact that a domestic violence training course was the last place she would have expected to see him, she felt a cold sensation flood her belly, wondering if he was friend or foe.
"Likewise," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "I wouldn't have thought there was much cause for this sort of training in the Drugs Squad."
"I'm in Vice now," he replied. "Have been for the last six months. Based out at Park Lane."
"Oh…congratulations."
"Yeah, well…" he reached for a cup. "Things were getting a bit stale on the squad so, I thought it was time for a change."
"Well, I suppose Vice isn't that big of a shift, not when you think about it."
"Suppose not. Still dealing with scum." He filled his cup and shook in some sugar. "You still at Sun Hill?"
"Yeah, I made sergeant recently." She cursed herself the moment the words left her mouth, wondering what on earth the point had been in telling him.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Congratulations to you then. Moving up in the world."
"Something like that."
"So, what are you doing on this course then?"
"Oh, my Guvnor wants to establish a working group between Sun Hill and the local community to try and tackle the rise in domestic violence cases. He wanted me involved and…here I am."
"Your Guvnor?"
"Yes."
"Frank Burnside?"
She shifted uncomfortably. "No, Jack Meadows. I mean…Frank Burnside is still my DI but…" she felt her cheeks flame. "Meadows is my DCI."
"I know the bloke. Busted down to DCI from Superintendent."
"Mmmm, yes."
"Interesting hierarchy you've got at Sun Hill what with corruption, lack of boundaries…"
"Yeah, well, it was good to see you at any rate, Harry," she interrupted, desperate to get away before he could take the conversation any lower than he was taking it.
"I've seen Stewart a few times."
His words made her pause and turn back to look at him. "What…in prison?"
"Dirty word, is it? Yes, in prison. Last time was...last month actually."
She felt her throat grow dry. "How is he?"
"How would you expect him to be? He's doing an eight stretch. Not ideal for a former police officer."
"No."
"He asked if I knew how you were…if I'd seen you about. I had to say no, obviously, but at least next time I visit I can say I have, and that you're looking well. I bet he'll be chuffed you've been promoted."
She wasn't sure at that point whether he was ridiculing her or not, but presented with the opportunity, she felt she had to take it. "Did he say anything about me when you saw him?"
Harry frowned, "Like what?"
"Well, like…" she paused. "I mean…at one point he wanted to write to me and then changed his mind and then, well, I was going to go and visit him myself, but he refused."
"Can you blame him?"
It was ludicrous and yet she felt almost shamed by his words, as though the reason Stewart was in jail really was all her fault, rather than his own. "No, I suppose not."
"It was pretty humiliating for him, his lawyer telling everyone that you'd been shagging around."
"I was not shagging around."
"No?"
There seemed little point in debating the semantic with him. "It was pretty humiliating for me too."
"I bet."
"His lawyer didn't have to say anything about that."
"He was trying to get Stewart a lesser sentence, make the judge sympathise with him. I mean…your wife shagging her boss…" he shook his head.
"Well, I suppose that justifies him stabbing me then, doesn't it?" she replied, a sense of indignation returning at the line Harry was clearly taking.
"I never said that was right," Harry shook his head, "but I can understand it."
"Christ…" she shook her head. "Maybe you really do need to be on this course." Draining her cup, she put it down on the table and turned to head back towards her seat, when she felt Harry take hold of her arm.
"If I go and see him again, is there anything you want me to tell him?"
She paused, thinking of the million and one things she would have said to her ex-husband, given half the chance, and how twisted they could become coming from another. "No thanks." Pulling free, she made her way back to her seat, her heart pounding in her chest as she sat back down again. How many other people thought that what Stewart had done was right under the circumstances? His family, obviously. The whole Drugs Squad? Shaking her head, she tried to rid herself of the intrusive thoughts. It was water under the bridge now, it had to be. She had a future with Frank…only thinking of him led to her thinking about Fiona and the baby that may, or may not, be his. Would people see it as some sort of poetic justice if it turned out that the fairy-tale affair she had left her husband over was really something sordid involving other parties and love children?
Thankfully, the leader of the training returned at that point and her attention was once more taken up with the reason that she was there. But, every so often, she sensed a shift in her peripheral vision and, when she glanced across the room, saw Harry watching her.
When the course was over, she hurried out of the building and back to her car, desperately wanting to avoid any further interaction with him and dreading having to return the next day. She drove back to the station, even though she was entitled to simply go home and, to her relief, found Frank alone in the CID office.
"There she is, Hedda Hopper," he greeted her.
"What?"
"Famous gossip columnist. Couldn't keep her mouth shut, like someone else I know."
"I have absolutely no idea…"
"I'm talking about you, spilling your guts to Viv Martella about Fiona and the baby, not to mention about us being engaged."
"Oh…that…"
"Yes, that." He stood up and came around his desk towards her. "You want to explain yourself or shall I just put it down to some sort of chemical imbalance in your brain?"
"It just came out," she replied. "I was a bit shook up and, well, I told her. It's not a big deal though, is it? Viv's a good mate. She won't say anything to anyone."
"Maybe not, but she had plenty to say to me earlier on the subject. Back on the old 'taking advantage of your vulnerability' bandwagon."
"Oh…well, yeah, she did say something similar to me too last week."
"Did she now? Well, I'm amazed she kept her powder dry for a whole week then." He shook his head. "Forget it. I've got more things on my mind to worry about than dealing with her. How was the course?"
"Fine. Harry was there?"
"Harry who?"
"Harry Grimm. He used to work with Stewart in the squad. He's in Vice now, so he was telling me." She paused. "He said he'd been to visit Stewart. Said he'd asked if Harry had seen me about and how I was."
"Oh yeah?"
"Doesn't that strike you as a bit odd?"
"Why?"
"Well…if he wanted to know how I was, he could have written to me when I said he could, or agreed to see me…"
He sighed heavily, "Are we really going to do this again? Rehash the past in respect of your ex-husband? You're divorced. He's in prison. Let's all move on."
"Right, to where we are now, waiting to find out if you've got a child with another woman?" she replied irritably. "Did you go to her house?"
"Yes."
"And did your mate take the sample?"
"Yes."
"So, how long do we have to wait?"
"Could be a week." She sighed heavily. "Yeah, it doesn't fill me with joy either, even though I know what the result's going to be." She said nothing, wishing she could share his optimism and then wondering if it was even genuine. "Come home with me tonight?"
"No, I…"
"Oh, for Christ's sake! How long is this going to go on?"
"How long is what going to go one? I told you last week that I supported you…"
"Yeah, and then you turned tail and ran. We haven't seen each other outside of this place since then. We've barely touched…haven't been to bed together…"
"Well, I'm sorry you feel like you're missing out on sex," she replied sharply. "I didn't realise that was all we were about." He lowered his gaze and instantly she felt angry with herself. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair. This whole last week…and now seeing Harry…I don't know."
"Stuff Harry," he said. "Stewart is not your concern anymore, not by a long chalk and this whole business with Fiona will be all done and dusted by next week. She's putting on a good show, I'll give her that, but she knows she's backing a loser here. She's just too stubborn to admit that she lied." He paused. "I found myself on the brink of telling Meadows earlier."
"You should. I told you that you should."
"His opinion of me isn't very high at the minute so I doubt regaling him with lurid tales of my private life would do my street cred any good. He's on at me about all the racial cases we've had to drop recently. I've to give him some sort of idea as to how we fix it."
"If victims won't press charges, what are we supposed to do?"
"My thoughts exactly, but Saint Jack has other views on the subject." He sighed heavily again. "Look, I'm not going to beg but…please, come home with me. It's not about sex, we don't even need to have sex if that's some sort of issue…"
"It isn't."
"Well then. I remember once before, when Pat was attacked, I stayed at your place simply for the comfort of being with you, not for anything else, and that was at your instigation." He paused. "We need each other right now."
She knew he was right, knew that it should be simple, all of it, and yet there always seemed to be something standing in the way of the steady course their relationship should, in theory, be able to take. It was maddening. "Yeah, ok." She checked her watch. "Seven at your place? I've got some things to tidy up here."
"Fine."
She returned to her desk, picking through the papers that lay discarded there, analysing what needed any immediate attention and what could wait. About half an hour later, he left his office, winking at her as he made his way out, passing Jack in the corridor as he did so.
"Chris, how was the course?" Jack greeted her.
"Fine Guv, thanks. Really interesting."
"I'm glad to hear it. Back again tomorrow?" She nodded. "I look forward to you sharing the knowledge you've gleaned." He gestured to her desk. "Staying late?"
"Just finishing up a few things."
"Don't work too hard." He turned and headed back for his office, and she had just risen from her desk when the phone suddenly rang.
"CID, WDS Lewis."
"Hello, is that Christina Lewis?"
"Yes."
"My name's Doctor Phil Nelson, from Seaview Medical Centre in Brighton."
A cold hand gripped her innards.
"I'm so sorry to do this over the phone but, well, I'm afraid it's your father, William. He passed away earlier today."
Everything seemed to still around her, the air, her whole body, everything just seemed to stop as she tried to process what he was telling her. It couldn't be, wasn't possible…he had been fine just the other week…
"I…I'm sorry, I…" she sat back down in her seat. "I don't understand. I saw him just over a week ago. He was admitted to hospital, but they said he was going to be all right and that he could go home with a care package…he didn't seem to be…near the end…"
"No, I fully understand." Dr Nelson paused. "I'm afraid that, well, from first glance, it doesn't appear as though his death was as a result of the cancer."
She paused and frowned, "I…don't understand."
"It looks like…well…I'm afraid it would appear that he took his own life."
