11 July 1992
It was hot in the funeral parlour, almost to an unbearable level and he could feel rivulets of sweat running down his back underneath his shirt. The owner of the parlour had apologised profusely when they had arrived, advising them that there was a problem with the air-conditioning and that he understood if they wanted to delay. He hadn't been sure what Christina would say, but she had merely shaken her head and said she wanted to carry on regardless. He was surprised at how many people had turned out, how many people actually seemed to care about William Lewis, enough to come and pay their respects and support his daughter.
"Christ, it's like an oven in here."
"Shut up," he hissed ferociously as Jim shifted in the seat next to him, running his fingers around his collar. "It's half an hour, tops."
"Yeah, by which point I'll be a puddle on the floor. They're not going to need a crematorium at this rate." Jim sighed heavily. "How do you reckon she's holding up at any rate?"
He followed the other man's gaze across the room where Christina was talking quietly to a couple of women sitting on the opposite aisle and thought, not for the first time, what an irritant it was having Jim there at all. When he had asked Jack if he could have the time off to travel down to the funeral, his boss had looked at him rather suspiciously.
"I didn't think you knew her father," Jack had said.
"I didn't," he lied, "but I've known her a long time and I think she could use the support."
"Well, I suppose we can manage for a day without you."
"Well, I thought I might stay over…"
"Jim's going too. He asked me earlier. So, it's not just you who thinks Chris could use support. I can only give you the day though."
Being stuck with Carver hadn't been exactly how he had planned the day to go. Ideally, he would have travelled down the night before, stayed with her, accompanied her to the funeral, stayed the night and then travelled back. As it was, he and Jim had travelled down in the car together and were looking at doing the same back again once the day was over. Not to mention the fact that having Jim there meant they had to be very careful how they acted around one another. A stray touch, a glance even, and everything could be out in the open.
"I reckon she's doing all right."
"I'm sure it's at times like these that she wishes Stewart was still about."
He turned to look at the other man. "Oh yeah, he'd have been a massive comfort and support to her."
"Well, at least she would have had somebody." Jim paused, his eyes flickering over his face, and he could tell the younger man's brain was in overdrive, desperate to ask questions out of the station that he wouldn't dare ask inside it. "Do you ever…umm…?"
"What?"
"Well, I mean…" he broke off as Christina came over and took her seat in the row in front of them, flashing them both a brief smile as she did so. It was the signal for the start of the service and, for that, he was relieved, albeit he was surprised it had taken Jim this long in the day to think about bringing it up. It amused him sometimes that everyone could be so oblivious. Well…almost everyone, if you didn't count Viv.
The service was mercifully short, Christina remaining dry-eyed throughout, and he knew he wasn't the only one relieved when they eventually re-emerged into the morning sunlight and the cooling breeze. There was still the crematorium service to get through, but the break from the incessant heat of the parlour was welcome. He wanted to go in the funeral car with her, hated the idea of her travelling in it alone, but it would have looked too suspicious, and so he made the journey with Jim instead, hoping the other man wouldn't pick up the threads of his previous conversation.
"What I meant earlier Guv was…well…" he cringed as Jim returned to the topic. "Do you ever wish things could have been different…you know…with you and Chris?"
"Different in what way?"
"Well, different in that you could be together."
He paused, wondering best how to answer the question without inadvertently giving too much away. "Some things just aren't meant to be, James."
"No, but…if you could…would you?"
"Would I what?"
"Be with her. I mean…you cared about her, didn't you?"
He glanced over at Jim, wondering what the other man was trying to get it, and seeing only sincerity and genuine wonderment in his expression. It was slightly disconcerting, given that he and Christina were due to be married in a fortnight's time. Perhaps a semblance of honesty was the best policy. "I didn't care about her, Jim, I loved her."
"And you don't now?"
"Like I said, some things just aren't meant to be." He turned into the crematorium, grateful for the need for the conversation to come to an end. In the last two weeks, he had felt constantly on edge, wondering if Stewart was going to do anything in the wake of his visit to the prison, if he was going to tell anyone about the fact they were still together. So far, there been nothing, but it didn't stop him from worrying about it. The next two weeks couldn't go fast enough. Getting her legally wed to him could only help the situation in the long run.
Again, the service was short, and it wasn't before time that they found themselves in the pub that she had booked for the wake, and he watched as she moved from guest to guest, accepting their sympathies and no doubt hearing stories about her father that she had never heard before. Finally, after what seemed like an age, he managed to get her on her own in a corner by the fruit machine. "How are you holding up?"
"Fine."
"You sure?" She nodded. "You've done him proud you know."
"I hope so," she sighed, casting her eyes around the room. "It's been strange, talking to people who probably knew him better than I did. But it's been nice too. I suppose I was worried I'd be the only mourner at the end of the day but, obviously not."
"I'm just sorry I wasn't able to be with you properly."
She met his gaze, her eyes flickering around his face. "Maybe we should tell someone."
"Tell someone what?"
"That we're getting married."
"Like who?"
"I don't know…Jim or Viv…"
"And have it all round the nick before we could even say I do?"
"I just…" she broke off and looked down. "I just feel like there's going to be nobody there that I care about, except you."
"Pat, Gerry and the kids are going to be there."
"I know but they're your family."
"They'll be yours too."
She sighed and shook her head. "It feels a bit like history repeating itself; me being adopted by my in-laws. It just might be nice to have someone there for me and, with my folks both gone, well…friends are really the only people I've got left."
"And you think if you told Jim or Viv, they'd be happy for you, for us?"
She met his gaze again, "Don't you?"
"No, quite frankly I don't. Viv's already given you a hard time about things, something which you still haven't resolved with her and as for Jim…" he glanced over to where the other man was standing at the bar. "He's not exactly known for his discretion, is he?"
"No, I suppose not."
"Look, you're emotional today because it's your father's funeral, that's understandable. These kinds of events make you question your whole life sometimes. But, in two weeks, you and I are going to be married. Unshakeable. Unbreakable. And it doesn't really matter who's going to be there, does it, so long as we are?" She shook her head and he ached to hold her. "I love you."
"I love you too."
"I wish I could stay with you tonight, but Meadows has got me on a tight leash."
She met his gaze again. "A couple of weeks ago, you were the one saying that we should tell Meadows."
"Yeah, and I still think that maybe we should, but only after we're married. It's only two more weeks." He stepped back from her slightly as Jim approached, carrying three glasses. "Cheers Jim."
"Cheers," Jim replied, once he had passed them out. "To your dad, Chris, and to the future. I hope it's a happy one for you."
"Thanks," she replied, meeting his gaze again. "Me too."
XXXX
Watching him leave had been hard. The emotions of the day had left her exhausted. At some points, she had felt profound sadness as the loss of her father, at others she had felt nothing. She hadn't cried during either of the services, but in the ladies' toilet at the pub the tears had flowed. She hadn't even been sure what she had been crying for; the wasted past or the lost future. She had wanted to cling to Frank, to feel his arms around her, his hand in hers, his body next to hers in bed, but instead she had watched as he had climbed back into the car with Jim and driven away, not even daring to physically touch him in farewell as she had with the other man. Now, alone in the flat, she felt overcome by the quietness that surrounded her.
She tried to conjure up the feeling that had overwhelmed her when he had proposed to her, the feeling that it was so right, that he was so right and, deep down, she knew it to be true but…the reality of their situation, the secrecy and lies, only served to taint what should have been a happy time. And the speed of it all…part of her still wished that they could take some time before making it all official, allow her to experience the true feeling of singledom for the first time in her life.
She tried to rest, but found herself unable to drift off, so instead began the task that she knew was going to consume her for the next few weeks, namely the clearing out and packing up of her father's flat. On the surface, he had lived simply enough, but she had quickly realised that every cupboard and every drawer had been stuffed to the gunnels with possessions, most of which could be quickly disposed of. She had begun sorting things into piles; what could go to charity, what needed to be otherwise disposed of, and what she wanted to keep. The last pile was probably the smallest, but it contained the most precious things, such as photographs of her childhood, an innocent time before she had realised what sort of life her father had chosen to lead. She couldn't help but think what would happen when she herself eventually died. Would she and Frank have children forced to undertake the task? Would she die before him, leaving him alone to do it? Would there be nobody?
She shivered at the morbid thought and made her way into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, her gaze falling on the phone as she passed. Frank would be long home by now and she knew he wouldn't object to her calling, but she couldn't help but think that he would simply give her platitudes about their future so, instead of dialling his number, she dialled Viv's instead, her friend answering on the third ring. "Hello?"
"Hi, it's me." There was a pause. "Chris."
"Yeah, I know who you are," Viv replied. "How was the funeral?"
"It was fine, better than I thought it would be actually. There was a good turnout. Dad obviously had more friends than I gave him credit for…more friends than I have at any rate."
"If you called just to have a go…"
"No, I didn't I…I want to try and resolve things, I…" she paused, unsure what to say. Apologising made it seem as though she was wrong to feel about Frank the way she did and yet, what other option was there? "I'm sorry," she said finally. "I don't like fighting with you. We've been friends for too long."
"I'm not sorry for what I said," Viv replied, "but I suppose I could have put it better."
It was something at least. "I guess we both could."
"Well then."
"Well then." She paused again, feeling her heart thud loudly in her chest with fear about what she was about to say. Frank would probably kill her, but everything she had told him about feeling alone at her own wedding was true. Even when she had married Stewart, at least her parents had been there. "Will you come to my wedding?" There was another silence. "Please."
"When is it?"
"Two weeks today."
"Two weeks?!" Viv exclaimed. "What's the rush? You just got divorced!"
"I know, but I want to marry him."
"Why?"
"Because I love him, and I'd like you to be there because…well…because I won't have anybody else and you're one of my closest friends."
"Even if I'm sceptical that you're doing the right thing?"
"Well, in an ideal world you'd be happy for me…"
"Chris…"
"But even if you're sceptical, I'd still like you to be there."
Viv sighed heavily. "Ok, if it's what you want."
"Thank you."
"I just…don't want you to make a mistake, Chris. I don't want you to think that you have to do this because he's pressured you in some way…"
"He hasn't."
"I know what Burnside's like."
"No, you don't, not really. Not in the way that I do. You've only seen one side to him, Viv, and I can promise you, deep down, he's very different. I feel more for him than I think I ever felt for Stewart."
"That's a bold statement. You were with Stewart for fourteen years."
"I know, but it's different with Frank and…" she broke off, having been about to tell Viv that Frank would have better promotional chances if they were, at least, married, then deciding that might be information best kept to herself.
"And?"
"And I know that he'll make me happy, in a way that Stewart never did."
Viv sighed again. "Well, as your friend, all I want is for you to be happy, Chris, so if it means that much to you, I'll be there."
"It does, thank you."
"I'm guessing that I can't tell anyone else about this though."
"No, not until we're married and then, well, we might tell Meadows."
She could almost feel Viv's disapproval coming through the telephone wires. "Ok, I'll keep my mouth shut."
"Thank you."
"I just hope you know what you're doing, that's all."
"I do, honestly I do."
"Ok then. Well, I'll see you when you get back."
"You will. Thanks Viv."
"Night."
"Night." She replaced the receiver and sat looking at it for a long moment before lifting it again and dialling his number. "It's me," she said when he answered.
"Everything all right?"
"Yes, I just wanted to tell you that…well…that I asked Viv to come to the wedding and I don't want you to be angry with me because it was my choice, and it's what I want, and I hope that you can respect that."
"I thought we agreed…"
"No, you talked, and I felt as though I couldn't say anything. I know that it only matters that you and I are there, but I don't think that I'm out of line wanting someone there for me, even if it is just one person. You want me to be happy, don't you?"
"Of course I do."
"Well then."
He sighed heavily, "You realise I'm going to have to talk to her."
"Viv? Why?"
"She needs to be put straight."
"Frank…"
"I'm serious, Chris. I'm not having her waltzing about the CID office for the next two weeks giving me knowing looks like she's got some terrible secret to hold over me. At the end of the day, I'm still her DI and she needs to respect that."
"She's not like that."
"We can't risk her saying anything."
"She won't." She paused. "I'm not going to apologise for telling her."
"I don't expect you to, but you don't half exacerbate me at times."
"Keeps you on your toes. If you think you're getting some meek-minded wife who keeps her mouth shut about things that matter to her, you're very much mistaken. I'm not going to make the same mistakes as I did before."
"I wouldn't want that kind of wife. Turns me on when you're bolshy."
She smiled, "I'm glad to hear it. Turns me on when you get all masterful too."
"Well then," he said, and she could envision him settling himself back against the sofa cushions. "Tell me what you're wearing."
12 July
"Viv, have you got a moment?"
Viv looked up from what she was doing and eyed him somewhat suspiciously before getting to her feet and following him into his office. Ever since Christina had told him what she had done, he had gone over and over in his mind how to deal with it. He'd thought about saying nothing equally as much as he'd thought about being bullish about it, then, as he had been driving to the station that morning, had concluded that a softer approach was probably the best option.
"Problem Guv?"
"Close the door will you and sit down." She did as requested, and then turned her gaze back to his. "I understand that Christina has told you about what's happening in a fortnight's time."
"If you mean the fact that she's invited me to your wedding, then yes."
"I know you've got certain preconceived notions about me Viv…"
"Guv…"
"But I hope you can understand why we're doing this."
"Look Guv…" Viv sighed. "If you love each other, really love each other, then I'm happy for you. After everything that happened with Stewart, Chris deserves to be happy. She deserves to be happy for the rest of her life. When she was with him, even before he got shot…" she shook her head. "Part of me never thought he was good for her. There was just lots of little things that made me question how committed he really was to her, how much he really cared about her. He hated the fact that she was even in this job, never mind the fact that she was in CID. He never had her best interests at heart, regardless of what he might have said. Stewart Church only ever really cared about one person, himself."
"And you think I'm like that."
"In many ways, Guv, yes. And if that's me being insubordinate or rude or out of line, then so be it. Chris is my friend, and I don't want to see her jumping from one bad marriage into another."
This was where he knew he needed to tread carefully. It would be so easy to blow up at her, but that wasn't the way to get what he wanted. "I can understand that you want to look out for her, Viv, but I'm not like Stewart."
"No?"
"I would never lay a hand on her the way he did. I would never treat her the way he did. I'm ecstatic that she made sergeant given it's no more than she deserves." He paused. "I love her."
Viv paused, as though weighing up the wisdom of what she was about to say, and he felt himself hold his breath. "You're not exactly noted for…"
"For what?"
"Keeping it in your trousers."
"No, I suppose not," he replied, trying to ignore the familiar sting that always came whenever someone made such an assertion. "I like women. I've never made any secret of that and it's probably common knowledge that I wasn't faithful to my first wife." Viv said nothing. "This is different. I know that might be hard to believe…"
"I want to believe it, Guv, I really do. I don't want to think about Chris marrying you only for you to be going behind her back with all sorts."
"That won't happen."
"No? A couple of weeks ago, you apparently had that Fiona one in here claiming you were the father of her child!"
"I'm not."
"Well…that's something at least."
He tried a different tact. "Do you trust me Viv?"
"Professionally, unquestionably. Personally…I don't really know."
"Well, I guess we'll just have to work on that one. Look, all you need to know is that I love Chris and I'm going to do everything in my power to make her happy. She needs you to be on board with that, especially given that we can't tell anyone else about it right now."
"She said you were considering telling Meadows."
"Maybe," he replied, unwilling to nail his colours to the mast. Trying to explain that it might help his quest to make DCI in a few months would most likely only play exactly into what she thought about him putting career before all else.
"It's a hell of a secret, Guv. It's one thing to try and hide the fact that you're having a relationship, but it's quite another to hide the fact that you're actually married. I mean, are you going to live together or stay separate? How is it even going to work?"
"Never you mind about the finer details. Those are for Chris and I to worry about. So," he leaned forward, "can we rely on your discretion?"
She paused and then nodded, "Yes Guv."
"Good girl. Well, on you go then. I'm sure you've got plenty of work to be getting on with." She cast him a final look before getting to her feet and heading back out of his office to her desk, and he let out a long breath as she did so. He supposed it had gone better than he thought it might, though he couldn't help but wish that Christina hadn't opened her big mouth in the first place.
"Frank, have you got a minute?"
He looked up to see Jack framed in his office doorway, "Guv?"
"I've had a phone call from Longmarsh prison, and I think you and I need to have a chat."
