Chapter Text
Richard Poole, formerly a Detective Inspector in London's Metropolitan Police Force but currently owner and one of only two employees of Poole Police Consultancy Services Ltd. looked over the hallway in his home. Suitcase packed and ready to go, briefcase likewise. He checked his watch. Good, just enough time for a quick cup of tea before he had to leave to catch his train. He made his way to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Cup, saucer, milk, sugar; he marshalled the components for the beverage that was to see him on his way to Manchester. Water boiled - warm the pot, add tea and boiling water and savour the anticipation whilst the tea brews to perfection.
His anticipation was derailed, however, by the strident ringing of his front doorbell. He frowned, who on earth would be calling at this time on a Sunday? He rarely had visitors at all if he were being honest, so this was unprecedented. The tea would be alright in the time it would take to get rid of the visitor he decided. He moved through the lounge, down the hallway and opened the door.
“Camille!”
His shock at seeing her on his doorstep sent his face on a journey from surprise to confusion pausing momentarily at delight.
“If I have to spend one more minute with that man I will not be held responsible for my actions!” a rather irate French Detective Sergeant spat out as she stomped through the door into Richard’s hall.
Richard managed to avoid being flattened against the floor by flattening himself against the wall.
“What are you doing here?” His overloaded faculties had caused the question to come out rather more abruptly than he would have wished but the beautiful Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey was enough to send any male into sensory overload, even when she wasn’t in her current mood.
He had last seen her six weeks earlier when they had memorably attended a conference together. Since then, they had called each other a couple of times and exchanged a few emails, ostensibly to discuss some police matter that had hit the headlines. But Richard could not recall any mention of a visit. He would have remembered that. He tried hard to think whether he could have done anything to upset her.
“Hello Richard.” she said rather apologetically, completely at odds with her previous mood. She stepped forward to kiss him on his cheek and allowed him to close the door.
“I hope you don’t mind me turning up like this, but I have had enough of that horrible man and needed to get away for a bit. Would it be alright if I stayed here for a few days?”
“Well, err...” he waved his hand in the direction of his suitcase.
Camille’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God. Have you only just got back? I’m sorry, you probably don’t want me here when you’re tired from travelling. Shall I make you a cup of tea?”
“Well, err...” Richard tried again, “I’m actually just about to leave...” he looked at his watch “in about ten minutes”
Camille looked devastated. “Oh, Richard I’m so sorry. I should have called but I just got to the point where I had to get away from it all.”
“Well, you certainly achieved that.” he observed.
“I’ll leave. You need to go. I’ll...”
She took hold of the handle of her case again.
“No. Wait! ...” He reached out to grab her arm and prevent her walking away. In desperation he said, “Come with me.”
“But aren’t you going for work? I would be in the way or on my own all the time.”
He really didn’t want her to leave.
“No. We can do it together. It’s the contract Cynthia talked about. I’m sure she’d let you work with me.” He then realised what he was proposing. “But you probably won’t want to work on your time off. I’m sorry, it was a stupid suggestion.”
He didn’t spot the smile starting to spread over her face. “If you think it will be alright and I won’t be in your way...”
He looked up at her, hope clawing its way out of its grave.
“I’m sure she’ll be happy to get two ace detectives for the price of one.” He noticed her reaction and a smile started mirroring hers.
“Then I’ll go with you.”
“I won’t be able to pay you much, I’m afraid. The quote only covers me and expenses.”
“Then I’ll have to come up with another way you can pay me back.”
Richard wasn’t sure what he was letting himself in for, but he didn’t care. He felt like a kid who had just been handed the keys to a sweetshop. They stood grinning at each other until a horn sounded from outside. He realised that at some point they had taken hold of each other’s hands and quickly let go.
“That’s the taxi. Do you need anything before we go? Toilet or...”
“No, I’ll be fine, and I wouldn’t want to make you late.” In fact, he had allowed twenty minutes for holdups - you could never tell with London traffic.
Picking up their cases and closing the door behind them, they walked towards the taxi. His cup of tea would be well past its prime when he found it again.
Once they arrived at Euston Station, Richard bought Camille a ticket and they managed to negotiate two seats together and settled in for the ride.
It was only once the train was on its way, clattering through the brick lined canyons on its way out of London, that Richard got around to asking what had driven Camille to come for a visit.
Her ‘I just needed to get away for a bit,’ only made him more certain that something bad had happened and made him more determined to press her for details.
Eventually she capitulated. “If you really want to know, I think Veronique has been meddling, no doubt with the best of intentions, but it has had the effect of getting Mitterrand all worked up and rather than improving things it has just made them worse. He keeps on making comments about ‘friends in high places’ and tasks that I should be doing have been assigned to juniors with no experience. It’s so bad that people have started to notice, and I get pitying looks when they think I can’t see them.”
Richard was starting to get alarmed. The strong DS he had come to know was on the verge of breaking into tears and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. He had read a few books on helplessness and depression in an effort to understand his own emotions but had become irritated at the woolly, touchy-feely language used and given up on them. For want of anything better to do, he tentatively covered her hand with his. She turned her hand over and gripped his tightly. God, she had a strong grip! She looked at him with a forced smile.
“I’m sure it will be alright.” he said, “You’ll just have to contact Veronique and get her to stop whatever she’s doing.”
“But it’s got to the point where I don’t enjoy my work anymore.”
“Couldn’t you get a transfer to another station?”
“I can try, but if Mitterrand says I’m a troublemaker, nobody else will have me.”
Richard stared out of the window, thinking. The urban sprawl of the city was beginning to be broken up with the occasional patch of green.
“Couldn’t you get a transfer to here? To London? I mean, you actually work for the Saint Marie Police Force and Saint Marie is a British Overseas Territory. I should think that would be easier for your Commissioner to arrange than a placement in Paris.”
She looked sceptical.
“Or you could come and work for me.”
He’d intended it as a joke. Something to lighten the mood, but when he saw the contemplative look that came over her, he started to panic. The business was growing slowly but it only generated enough money to keep himself and cover the pittance he paid Alison. A pittance he felt incredibly guilty about whilst being grateful to her for accepting. Besides, he wasn’t sure that Camille would enjoy anything that wasn’t ‘real’ policing.
Perhaps if he didn’t say anything more, she’d forget about it.
But it would be nice...
“That’s very sweet of you to offer Richard...”
Offer? He hadn’t meant it as an offer! It was a joke!
“...but I can’t see me standing in front of a class teaching just yet.”
He gave a quiet sigh of relief and his insides unknotted themselves. Mind you, it would have been nice...
“Well, we’ve got a week to think about it. I’m sure we can come up with something.”
She smiled at his reassurance and rested her head on his shoulder. He sat there enjoying the feel of her resting against him until he realised that she had fallen asleep. There was at least another hour and a half to go - he needed his book. The book that was in his briefcase propped against the side of the carriage. He tried to reach down with his free hand but couldn’t quite reach it before Camille started to stir. He then tried getting it closer sliding it up the wall with his foot – but ended up knocking it over making it even further away.
Eventually the young woman sitting opposite, who was trying hard not to laugh, offered to help and placed it on the seat next to him. He thanked her sincerely and took the book out.
His next problem was how to read the book one handed. Turning pages was a nightmare, but he worked out a technique. It was slow going, but he made progress.
Over an hour later he was starting to ache from maintaining the rather awkward posture, but was still unable, or should that be unwilling, to move. The good news was that Camille had let go of his hand only to wrap herself around his upper arm. Still, it did mean his hand was free to assist with his book. He felt her head shift slightly but thought nothing of it initially. However, at the end of the chapter took a quick glance down at her only to be met in return by a pair of brown eyes looking back at him. She really did have the most beautiful eyes he realised and scolded himself for entertaining the notion that they could be anything other than beautiful. They went with the rest of her.
“You’ve decided to wake up then.” he said gruffly, attempting to mask his uncharacteristic mawkishness.
“I think the journey from Paris on top of the last couple of weeks made me more tired than I realised. I just relaxed and fell asleep.”
“Yes, I did notice.”
“I’m sorry Richard, you must have been uncomfortable.”
“Oh, it wasn’t too bad. We British are a hardy breed.” and he gave her a half smile to show he was joking.
Although she was now awake, she still held on to his arm and rested her head on his shoulder. Richard assumed she was reading his book and said nothing.