25 July 1992
"Frank…you're in early."
He started at the sound of Jack's voice and turned from where he had been bent over the DCI's desk.
"Not sticking chewing gum under my desk or anything, were you?"
"Morning Guv, no of course not," he replied, coming around from the window. "I was just leaving you a note actually."
"Oh yeah, saying what?"
"Just that I was going to be out on enquiries most of the day today. That supermarket job the other week has thrown up a few names and I need to whisper in a few ears to see if I can find out the SP."
"I see," Jack put his briefcase down on the desk. "And that's going to take all day, is it?"
"Well, most of it, yeah," he replied, hoping that he sounded sincere enough and not as though he was trying to create an alibi in order to attend his own wedding. "It's a delicate investigation Guv."
"I'm sure it is. Going out on your own?"
"I do work better that way."
"Not always wise. Why don't you take Alan Woods with you? He could do with seeing a bit more of the ground and he could be a help to you."
"Uh, well I'm not sure that's such a good idea Guv, what with him being new to Sun Hill and all." Alan, a rather dour faced Scotsman, had joined the team only the previous week, ostensibly to replace Christina as a DC, but given that Mike had subsequently decided to seek a transfer to the Art and Antiques Squad, his arrival had done nothing to swell the ranks.
"Be good for you and him to get to know each other better then, don't you think?" Jack said, opening his briefcase and taking out some documents. "You'll be able to get the measure of each other."
His mind raced. This was not what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to have been in and out of the station before seeing anyone and he certainly didn't need or want a hanger on, not today of all days. "Maybe Jim would be better placed to come with me," he said, clutching at straws. "Ted could take Alan out with him. I know he's got a few leads to chase down."
"No, I'd rather you do it," Jack replied. "And can you be back here at five? I'd like us to have a chat about the domestic violence working group."
"I thought that was Christina's pet project?"
"Yes, it will be, but she'll need line manager support for its operation, so I thought it would be useful for us to go through the objectives together, so that we can give her a clear steer on the next steps." He raised his head. "There's not a problem with any of that, is there?"
"No, but it's just that…" he glanced at his watch. "I was hoping to get a bit of an early start, Guv." The words had barely left his mouth when there was a knock at the door and Alan stepped inside.
"Well, that's good timing," Jack said with a smile. "DI Burnside's going to take you out and about with him today, Alan, let you see the lie of the land a bit, help him out with his enquiries into the supermarket job. That ok with you?"
"Fine by me," Alan replied.
"Good, that's settled then. Five o'clock then, Frank."
"Guv," he backed out of the room, closely followed by Alan, and made his way back into his office, his mind ticking over how in heaven's name he was going to sort the mess Jack had just landed him in.
"So, where do you want to start, Guv?" Alan asked.
He glanced at his watch as the hands ticked past eight-thirty. The ceremony was at eleven and he was supposed to be at Pat's for ten at the latest, having collected his suit, so that they could get ready and travel to the registry office together. The table at the restaurant was booked for twelve and then he and Christina needed to be at the hotel for four if they wanted to make the best use of it before dinner at six. Ferrying Woods around on the pretext of investigating an armed robbery wasn't high on his list of priorities for that day.
"Guv?" Alan raised his eyebrows at him.
"First tip I can give you when it comes to working with me, Alan," he said, coming around the desk. "You do what you're told, when you're told, and you say nothing. Got it?"
"Uh…ok."
"Good. Right, well the first thing you can do is get me a coffee from downstairs black, two sugars, and then we'll head on out, ok?" the other man nodded. "Right, well on you go then."
Alone once more, he lifted the receiver and made to dial Christina's number, poised to alert her to the huge issue that he had just been presented with. His finger hovered over the last digit however and he replaced the receiver without completing the call. There was no point in worrying her, not today. He would just have to come up with some reason to throw Alan, and anyone else, off the scent.
XXXX
Unaware of the issues her future husband was facing, by contrast, her flat was quiet. Having taken the full day off, she had woken leisurely, tried to eat some breakfast, although her stomach had had other ideas, and then began preparing herself as best she could to look wedding presentable. The simple cream-coloured dress she had bought hung over her wardrobe door still in its polythene bag, her shoes neatly positioned beneath it as though it were on a mannequin. She showered, washed, dried and curled her hair, then made herself another coffee and sat on the couch whilst morning television swirled over and around her.
When she had married Stewart, he had been packed off to his friend's house the night before and she had gotten ready at his parents, with Elizabeth fussing around her and her two friends, who had acted as bridesmaids, twittering away in the corner, tugging at the puffed sleeves of their dresses. Her own dress had been of its time, meringue in nature, and probably far too old for her eighteen-year-old self but, at the time, it had been exactly what she had wanted.
She thought she might have missed the hustle and bustle of getting ready second time around but, in reality, she found herself embracing the silence. It gave her time to think about everything that was going to happen that day and how everything was going to change. In a few short hours, she'd be Mrs Burnside. No changing her mind, no going back. This time it was going to last. It had to. And why wouldn't it? They loved each other, they wanted to be together…the fundamental building blocks were there.
Restless, she rose from the couch and wandered over to the bureau in the corner where she had left some of the items that she had retrieved from her father's flat. There was still more clearing out to be done before it could be sold, but there would be time for that later. Too many other things had taken up her attention of late. She still hadn't worked her way through all his diaries, though the few she had read had given her a little more of an insight in the man he had been. There had been wit in the words that he had written and even the odd poem, which had surprised her, never having thought of him as being that way inclined. Lifting one now, she stroked the cover of it, a thousand emotions sweeping through her. He had never been a huge part of her adult life and yet, she couldn't help but wish that he was there.
As she turned to put the diary back, her arm inadvertently struck the side of a small box that had been placed, somewhat precariously, on the edge of the bureau, and it fell to the floor spilling its contents. Swearing softly, she got down on her knees to collect the discarded items, mostly documents and other diaries that she hadn't yet had a chance to look at, when she noticed a white envelope sticking out of the corner of a diary as yet unopened. Pulling it out, she noticed that it bore her name in her father's handwriting and she suddenly felt a cold chill in her stomach.
Was this it? Was this the suicide note she had been looking for? Had he placed it there for her to find, knowing that she would eventually be going through his belongings? She stared at it for a long moment, part of her desperate to read what he had written and part of her afraid to.
Before she could reach a decision, however, the doorbell rang and, placing the envelope down on the coffee table, she made her way to the front door, opening it to reveal Viv on the doorstep. "Oh," she said. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Well, it is today, isn't it? I haven't got the wrong day?"
"No, of course not. I just assumed that you'd meet us there, that's all."
"And have you travel to your wedding on your own? I don't think so." Viv stepped inside. "Your hair looks lovely."
"Thanks," she replied, touching it self-consciously. "You look nice."
"Well, I had to rush home and change after I'd shown my face first thing. Figured I couldn't be a witness at your wedding in my work gear." She twirled slightly, showing off the purple dress she was wearing. "Meadows thinks I'm out on enquiries."
"You don't think he'll be suspicious?"
"I doubt it. He looked up to his eyes when I left. Though he did tell me that the DI's got Alan Woods tagging along with him today."
"What?"
"They're 'out on enquiries' too, apparently. I got the distinct impression that Burnside won't have had much say in the matter."
"Oh great…" she sighed. "How is that going to work?"
"Don't worry about it. It's not your problem to solve, it's his."
"Yeah, but…Christ, I might have well have just invited the whole of CID."
"Listen, it's going to be fine," Viv took her by the shoulders. "This is your day, remember?"
"You seem rather upbeat about it all. I thought you might have taken the opportunity to try and talk me out of it."
"Would I have succeeded?" Viv shook her head. "Besides, I only want you to be happy. So, are you going to get your dress on?"
She paused, glancing once again at the envelope on the table. "I found this just before you arrived."
"What is it?"
"A letter from my dad."
Viv's eyes widened. "What, like a suicide note?"
"I don't know. I can't decide whether to open it or not." She lifted it and held it in her hands, feeling as though it weighed far more than paper had any business weighing. "I don't know if today's the right day to read it."
Viv paused and then took it from her fingers. "I say, leave it. You don't know what it says, or how it might make you feel and today is supposed to be a happy day, right?"
"Right."
"Well then. Wait until everything's died down a bit, then you can read it."
"What if it's something important?"
"Then he should have told you to your face, or at least left it somewhere you would have found it right away. You might never have found it."
"I suppose…"
"Come on, don't think about it now. Time's marching on and something tells me that Burnside's not the type of bloke who would appreciate being left standing at the altar."
XXXX
"What's that?"
"What's what?"
"That, in the back."
He followed Alan's gaze into the backseat of the car and tried to maintain his cool façade. "It's a suit."
"Well, I guessed that from the bag but…it wasn't there when we parked earlier, was it?"
"It's been there a while." Alan looked at him as though he was slightly mad. "Maybe you're needing your eyes tested. Can't be in CID without good eyesight."
After leaving the station, they had driven into Canley where he had sought out, and luckily found, one of his old snouts hanging around a betting shop not a million miles away from the shop from where he had hired his suit. Ricky MacDonald had been a good informant, in his day, but the information he had readily provided in the eighties had dried up over the last few years and the older man had been somewhat surprised to see him.
"Supermarket?" he had declared. "I don't know anything about that."
"Come on Ricky, you used to be the best in the business," he had pressed, though acutely aware the chances of the man knowing anything were slim to none, his usefulness being proximity only. "You must have heard something."
"I've heard nothing Mr Burnside," Ricky had replied. "I'm surprised you'd think I have. I haven't grassed in a good five years or so. You must be desperate if you've come to me."
It hadn't exactly been the show he would have wanted to put on for the new boy, but there had been little option faced with the circumstances. Finding an excuse to get Alan out of the way whilst he had nipped into the shop had been his next problem and it had only been when he had extolled the virtues of the bacon rolls in Tony's Café round the corner that he had managed to get rid of him long enough to pick up his suit and deposit it in the car.
"What did I tell you?" he said, licking tomato sauce from his fingers. "The best bacon rolls in the borough."
"If you say so," Alan replied.
"Right," he said, once they were both finished. "This is where you and I need to part ways for a while."
"How do you mean?"
"I've got some more people to see, and they aren't all as accommodating as old Ricky. Most of my snouts don't like new faces. It makes them nervous and less likely to want to talk. So, I'm going to go one way and you're going to go another."
"So, what do you want me to do?"
"I want you to use your grey matter, Alan. I want you to think about what other lines of enquiry we can follow to try and get this thing solved. I want you to go back to the supermarket and speak to the manager again. Find out if he's thought about anything else that might be helpful to us and then I want you to follow it up. Oh, and I want you to steer clear of the station and Meadows in particular. There's no need for him to know that we've divvied up the work rather than you following me round like a puppy. Got it?"
"Well, I…"
"Good. Off you go then."
Alan paused. "But it's a good five miles to the supermarket from here."
"You'll get on remarkably well with Tosh," he rolled his eyes. "There are such things as buses, you know."
"Right Guv," Alan opened the door. "So…when will we meet up again?"
"I'll meet you round the corner from the Jolly Rodger at twelve-thirty, all right?"
"The Jolly Rodger?"
"Yeah, it's the pub on Grant Road, near the school."
"Right." The other man didn't look convinced, but he opened the car door and stepped out. "I'll see you later then."
"Definitely," he replied, before gunning the engine and speeding away. It was just after ten and when he arrived at Pat's house, the place was in a certain state of pandemonium. Danny and Jake were running up and down the stairs, seemingly unwilling to get their nice clothes on, Phil was lounging in the kitchen, even less motivated than his brothers, and Pat herself was flitting here, there any everywhere trying to ready herself and their mother who seemed not entirely sure what was happening.
"Where have you been?" Pat declared when he stepped into the hallway. "I thought you'd be here ages ago!"
"It's only ten after ten," he replied, checking his watch. "I'm not late. You look nice."
"Thanks," she replied. "I hope you got your suit."
"Course I did," he replied, holding up the bag. "What do you take me for?"
Gerry stuck his head out of the living room. "Fancy a drink, Frank?"
"Now you're talking." He followed his brother-in-law into the room and waited whilst he poured him a whisky. "Cheers. I'm needing this, I can tell you."
"Stressful morning?"
"You could say that."
"You should have just taken the day off."
"I would have, but both of us being off at the same time might have aroused suspicion."
"Where does your boss think you are today then anyway?"
"Out on enquires."
"What, all day?"
"I showed my face first thing this morning and I'll have to show it again later on, but as far as he's concerned, I'm out doing important and necessary police work." He decided to refrain from mentioning Alan, seeing little point in adding more complications. "I've told you before; I run that department, whether Jack Meadows likes to think he does or not."
"Rather you than me," Gerry chuckled. "You seem quite calm, all things considered. I thought you'd be more on edge."
"What, like you were you mean?" he replied. "I remember how you were the day of your wedding. You kept running to the loo to relieve yourself every five minutes and if you weren't relieving yourself you were throwing up."
"I was hungover, and don't come the innocent with me seeing as you were a large part of why I was in that state," Gerry pointed at him. "Not that you were much better yourself."
"No, I suppose not," he laughed, thinking back all those years, more years than he cared to remember. "Mind you, I was a lot younger then."
"When you got married to Julie, you were up round the lights if I remember correctly, and you had far more of them than was probably wise for the morning of a wedding," Gerry pointed to the glass.
He could remember that day too, as clear as though it were yesterday. He had been a nervous wreck, desperately trying to maintain his veneer of coolness and failing miserably. When he'd been standing at the altar waiting for her, he remembered visibly shaking and, at one point, feeling as though he might actually pass out. Looking back now, he wasn't sure if it had been because he was nervously excited about marrying the woman he'd been in love with or because he'd known deep down that it wouldn't last. He'd thought he would feel anxious this time around, that his heart would have been thudding wildly in his chest, that his throat would have been dry and his palms sweating but, to his surprise, he actually felt calm. This time, it just felt right.
"Who's giving her away?"
"No-one."
"No-one?"
"Well, her dad's gone, and she said she was all right about walking down the aisle herself. It's only going to be you lot anyway, nothing too formal."
"Well, if she changes her mind, I don't mind stepping in."
"That's very good of you, Gerry. You're a good man."
"Yeah, well I try."
"How…uh…how are things with you and Pat? You know, since…" he left the words trailing in the air, both of them well aware of what he was alluding to.
"Oh, you know. Good days and bad days," Gerry replied, looking down into his glass. "Most of the time she just seems to want to pretend as though it never happened. Feels like she's pushing me away." He gulped down the liquid. "We haven't been to bed together, properly, since it happened."
He said nothing, unsure whether he should comment or not. He remembered back, before it had all happened, when Phil had told him that his parents fought over a lack of sex. If it had been bad then, it was clearly worse now. "You'll get through it," he said finally, thinking it the safest response.
"I hope so," Gerry replied. "I really do."
The living room door opened again at that point and Pat appeared, her eyes widening at the sight of the two of them. "Frank, you need to get changed! Unless you're intending on turning up to your own wedding dressed like you're off to interview a suspect!"
"I can always count on you to make me feel good, Patricia," he replied, grabbing the suit bag and dropping a kiss on her cheek as he walked past.
She chuckled, "What are sisters for, eh?"
XXXX
"Wow…" Viv said, "you look amazing."
"Do you think so?" she asked. "It's not too tight?"
"Of course it's not too tight. You've got a great figure and it suits you so well…" Viv walked around her, admiring her from all angles. "He's going to be struck dumb when he sees you, I'll tell you that."
"Well, as long as he can say his vows, I suppose that won't matter." She stepped out into the hallway and stood in front of the full-length mirror to admire herself. She had found the dress in a small boutique shop in Camden. It was cream satin with flared, short sleeves, nipped in beneath the bust leading to a straight skirt with a slight billow at the bottom, ending just before her ankles. Tiny pearl buttons were dotted down the front and she had chosen pearl earrings and a pearl necklace as accessories along with a pearl hair slide. "It's not too much, is it?"
"It's supposed to be a wedding dress!"
"I know, but…"
"Just because this isn't an all singing, all dancing affair, doesn't mean that you shouldn't be the centre of attention. It's your day after all." Viv appeared behind her in the mirror.
"Thanks," she turned to her friend, "for not being judgemental."
"Not today at least. Try me again tomorrow," Viv replied good-naturedly before glancing at her watch. "It's almost ten to. Should we be thinking about going?"
"Yeah, the taxi should be here in a minute." As the words left her mouth, a honking noise came from outside. "Speak of the devil…"
"Right, you got everything?"
"I think so. Frank said we'd come back here to pick up my things before going on to the hotel."
"Somewhere posh I hope."
"I've no idea." She took a final look at herself in the mirror before opening the door and stepping outside, grateful that the weather was warm and sunny. "Oh, my flowers!"
"I'll get them," Viv replied, disappearing back into the living room before re-emerging with the small bouquet. "Ready this time?"
She nodded and they made their way out to the taxi, the driver chivalrously getting out to open the door for her. "I don't suppose I need to ask you where you're going," he joked. "Canley Registry Office?"
"Yes, thank you," she replied, climbing into the backseat, being careful not to crush her dress. Viv followed suit and, moments later, they were heading in the direction of town.
"You all right?" Viv asked.
"Yes, fine," she replied, though a sudden swarm of nervous butterflies appeared to have taken up roost in her belly. She remembered heading to the church for her wedding to Stewart. She had been ridiculously excited, almost unable to stay in her seat, willing the car to go faster. This time, she didn't feel that way. Was it because she was older, wiser and more experienced, or was it something else? Was it all the external pressures and problems that she knew they were going to face pressing down on her? "I'm doing the right thing, aren't I?"
Viv turned to look at her. "What?"
"I mean…I am…"
"You're not getting cold feet, are you?"
"No…"
"You don't have to do this if you don't want to."
"I do want to. I love Frank."
"But?"
"But…well, there's just a lot of other things swirling around this marriage…making it all seem so complicated…" she looked down into her bouquet. "I mean, it's not normal to need all this secrecy, is it?"
"Eloping are you?" the driver suddenly asked.
"Oh…eh…no," she replied, "not exactly."
"Me and the missus eloped. Gretna Green. Twenty-seven years ago. Best day of my life."
"Glad to hear it."
"Chris, I'm serious," Viv said, lowering her voice. "You do not have to do this."
"I know," she replied, smiling at her friend. "But I want to, I do. I'm just…I don't know…I'll feel better when I see Frank which, going by that clock, shouldn't be long now." The car suddenly slowed, and the driver let out an expletive. "What? What is it?"
"Looks like there's been an accident up ahead," he replied. "The road's blocked."
"Well, can you turn around? Go another way?"
"There's a queue behind me already and that lorry…" he gestured out the right side of his window and, leaning across Viv, she could see a lorry parked on the opposite kerb, making the chances of him performing a successful manoeuvre somewhat non-existent. "Sorry. Looks like we're stuck."
