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It was safe to say that Richard Poole was in a bad mood. As a matter of fact, 'bad mood' hardly did any justice to the terrible mood of the Inspector.
Whilst the majority of the people of Saint Marie were parading the streets in vibrant costumes and enjoying themselves during the Erzulie Festival, Richard Poole sat with a book at the back of La Kaz, grumbling about the noise whenever Catherine was in earshot, which, due to the aforementioned noise, was about three metres away. He was there under protest having been dragged from the peace and quiet of his Shack by the mother of his Detective Sergeant, who insisted he should not miss out on the festivities. Needless to say, Richard was not very pleased with this turn of events.
"Richard Poole!" Catherine called from the bar, waving enthusiastically. "Richard, come and look at the parade!"
He sighed deeply, marking his place with a bookmark.
"I can't hear you, Catherine," he shouted in response, feigning ignorance with a dismissive wave of his hand. Unfortunately, this did not discourage the French woman, who swiftly made her way to his table with an exaggerated swish of her shawl.
"I told you to come and watch the parade," she repeated with a broad smile.
"Really, I'm fine Catherine."
"No excuses, Richard Poole," she shook her head sharply. "Camille will be here soon," she added with a smile. "I'm sure she would love to see you."
"Catherine, Camille is coming with her date, I hardly think she will want to see her boss here," Richard protested, trying in vain to escape Catherine's harsh glare.
"Nonsense. Come and watch or I won't serve you any tea for a month."
Grumbling loudly, Richard tucked his book into his briefcase, holding the bag in front of him as he made his way forward. He had never felt comfortable in these situations and this was certainly no exception.
Roaring laughter and music drowned out any other sound, attacking the senses with ceaseless rhythm and causing the ground to tremble with the sheer volume of it. As usual, the islanders had brought large drums and an array of other instruments with them, filling Honoré with music as they walked. Flashes of pink and red streaked through the air as people waved ribbons and flags, prancing in glorious costumes and dancing on the pavements. The whole island was alive and singing, celebrating and rejoicing.
Richard found himself momentarily intoxicated by the sheer frivolousness and impossible excitement of the event.
He saw Catherine smiling in his direction and nodded in recognition, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her constant enthusiasm. His eyes scanned the nearby crowd in sight of his team. That's what he was telling himself anyway. Truthfully, there was one particular member of the team who he hoped to see.
Spotting Dwayne and his current girlfriend across the street, Richard snorted in amusement at the man's outfit. The officer was sporting a vibrant pink shirt covered in red hearts, tan shorts and neon pink trainers that appeared to be glowing in the dark.
"Hey Chief! Looking good!" Dwayne bellowed, apparently having noticed Richard's perplexed and amused expression.
Several heads turned towards him and he shuffled back awkwardly, retreating to the safety of his table at the back of the bar where no one would bother him.
Thankful for small mercies, he tucked himself into the corner and buried himself in the book, losing himself in the text to hide from the carnival.
The calming tone of the book could not be any more different from the battalion of sounds emerging from the festival that smothered the town with joy and Richard settled into a comfortable routine of flicking through pages and drinking his way through a large teapot that Catherine had tempted him with.
After a long period of reading, Richard was wrestled from his thoughts by a voice he knew well. It piqued his interest and he put away his book again as he sat up, looking for the voice in the crowd.
It didn't take him long to spot her. She was wearing that red dress that he remembered all too well, but the feature of her appearance that shocked him was the look of anger and hurt on her face. The second thing he noticed was the absence of her date and a mild feeling of dread settled at the bottom of his stomach. She spoke in rapid French as her mother held her hands gently, replying with what Richard could only assume were short words of comfort. Judging from the look on her daughter's face, these did little to soothe her temper and Richard stood, plucking up the courage to approach. It took him a few seconds to edge forward cautiously, listening to the tone of voice.
"Camille, ma fille-" Catherine began, squeezing her daughter's hand comfortingly.
"Bon, je peux pas en placer une, je suis gavé!"
"Non, Camille-"
"Il me soûle!" Camille interrupted, pulling her hands away. "Je me tire, je rentre à la maison."
Catherine watched with dismay as Camille turned away and walked towards the beach. Still, at least the beach would be able to provide her with some comfort.
In a few seconds, Richard made his way forward, meeting Camille's eyes. Expecting anger and a fiery French temper, he was taken aback by the pain lacing her expression.
"I - erm - Camille?" he stuttered ineloquently, tripping over over his words. "Is everything alright?"
"No, it isn't," she replied bluntly, her eyes piercing him. "I am never going on one of Maman's blind dates again."
"Has your, erm, your date, or whatever he is, gone home?" Richard enquired.
"I don't really care. I told him to get off my island," said Camille, finally meeting his eyes.
"That bad?"
Camille nodded, sighing loudly.
"Yes. That bad."
"Oh," Richard quietly said, unable to think of a better response despite the voice in his head screaming at him to comfort her.
"Camille, what happened?"
"What?"
"With your date?" Richard clarified.
"You wouldn't understand," Camille snapped bitterly, catching Richard off-guard. She seemed to notice his reaction, her expression instantly softening. "I'm sorry Sir, I didn't mean that," she hastily apologised.
"No, you're probably right."
"It wasn't a nice thing to say to a friend," Camille elaborated. "I'm really sorry."
"It's ok," Richard brushed it off. "You're upset." He paused, desperately trying to find the right words. "He wasn't nice?"
"No."
"Did he hurt you?"
"What? Not like that," Camille shook her head, pushing past Richard and making her way to the beach. His shoulders slumped a little as he watched her leave, not wanting to annoy her. Seeing her upset was difficult and he would hate to make things worse by pressuring her to talk. Surprising him, she only walked a few steps before stopping and turning to face him.
"Richard, can you walk with me?" she asked. She sounded almost frightened.
"Yeah, of course," he agreed, hiding a grimace as he joined her on the beach. He could put up with the sand if he got to spend time with her.
They walked parallel to the sea, listening to the playful motions of the waves as they squabbled with the beach, whispering messages into the night air.
The large moon spread a pale light elegantly over the sand. Iridescent stars blinked in the midnight sky, bright against the blackness behind them.
"I wish Maman would find me someone who listens."
Camille's statement surprised Richard. Talking was never his strength but listening, well, that was something he was a little better at. He looked at her with curiosity, trying to convey without words that he wanted her to continue. "She always finds men who are quite happy to look at me, but don't care when I speak," Camille sighed.
She stopped abruptly and spun around to face him, looking almost pleadingly at him.
"Richard, I spent over an hour today listening to a man tell me that I should leave the Police and become a model."
A look of disgust washed over Richard's face as he processed what she had just said. Poor thing, she didn't deserve to be treated like that. She deserved to be respected. He took her hands into his own and, instead of trying to mimic the way Dwayne comforted her, he gave her a look of genuine sympathy, hoping that the sympathy would provide a cover for the other emotions he felt about his disobedient, vivacious and beautiful Sergeant.
"He doesn't know you. Try not to let it get to your head," he said, offering her a reassuring smile. "You're a fabulous Detective, Camille. I could not ask for a better partner."
"I wish other people thought that."
"I know. It is infuriating when people only see you from the outside," Richard agreed with her. "It feels as though they don't recognise you as an individual."
Camille looked searchingly at him.
"You know how it feels," she all but whispered, talking as much to herself as she was to him. Of course he knew. He had spent years being bullied, after all. Seeing the pain in his eyes, Camille wished she could wrap him up in her arms and keep him there forever.
"The thing is Camille, you're so much more than the woman he saw. So much more. You're, well, you're brilliant at your job, you're clever, you're... kind, and you are a fantastic friend. I suppose that the point I am trying to make is that I may not be able to change how that man saw you, but the least I can do is tell you about how the rest of us see you."
"If I'm a good person, why am I still alone?"
The tremor in her voice was enough to break Richard's heart. It was preposterous to think that a woman like her could ever feel lonely, but here she was. "Maman says I'm being too picky."
"You deserve someone who will treat you well," Richard told her.
"That rules out everyone my mother has chosen for me," Camille said dully, continuing her walk along the beach.
"You aren't an object. You're a person."
He let his words sink in, watching the corners of her mouth turn upwards into a smile.
"You're speaking very eloquently tonight," Camille observed, turning to look at him. He was almost knocked over by her smile. She was gorgeous.
He shrugged, deep in thought.
"You've got better, Richard," Camille continued, a light tone to her voice.
"At what?" he asked.
"At supporting me."
He let out a small chuckle, her words washing over him like the rolling ocean waves, cool and gentle. He felt his mind wandering in a certain direction and corrected himself, adjusting his tie.
"You're upset. You should go home, Camille. Get a good sleep. I suspect you need the rest," he said, trying to be gentle. As much as he knew that she liked to be independent, he could tell when she needed the support.
"I know," she sighed miserably. "I must look hideous."
"No you don't. You look beautiful. I can just see it the way you hold yourself."
Richard had never seen Camille look so small.
"I don't really want to go home," she admitted, struggling to meet his eyes.
"Where do you want to go?"
"With you."
His heart caught in his chest but he caught himself. This wasn't because it was Erzulie Night. This was because she was upset and wanted a friend.
"Ok. We can head to the Shack if you want."
She nodded so slightly that anyone else could have missed it, but having paid attention to her mannerisms for his two years on the island, Richard knew she was agreeing with him.
She walked with her feet in the ocean. He walked a few feet away, definitely not in the ocean. She was there, an angel, as beautiful as ever, still with him. He marvelled at his luck.
It did not take long for them to walk to the Shack, meandering alongside the waves that would break gently into foam on the golden beach. Richard left his briefcase in the Shack before returning outside to see her.
Camille sat on the sand by his home, tucking her legs to the side. She looked almost ethereal, like a goddess gracing the planet.
"Richard," she whispered, patting the empty space next to her. "Join me?"
He sat beside her on the sand, carefully leaving a space between them.
They sat in silence, looking out over the sea and up at the sky. The beach was impossibly quiet, their little haven in the vibrant oasis of the island. They did not know how much time passed, for time did not seem to disturb their peace.
Wordlessly Camille moved towards him, closing the distance between them. Richard could feel her side against his. He could smell her perfume. He calmed his breathing, trying to ignore the pounding in his chest as her hand rested over his. Her touch was light and magical and her warmth seemed to spread through him.
If he were a better man, he would be cradling her in his arms and covering her with kisses. He knew that she deserved it. It was the Erzulie Festival, after all, so she deserved to be tucked up with a handsome and rich man. He felt angry at himself for being so afraid.
"Richard," she whispered again.
"Yes, Camille?"
"I love you."
Ever so slowly he moved his arm, settling it gently over her shoulders. She looked up at him and leant into him, melting into his side.
"I love you too," he murmured, hoping his words would be lost in the wind and yet also hoping that she had heard him clearly.
For a moment she was still and Richard tensed, suddenly scared that he had said the wrong thing. Then she met his eyes, her expression one of affection and adoration.
He held her, his hand tracing soft circles on her back. Her hand moved to his cheek and she hesitated, silently asking for permission.
He nodded, moving towards her. Their lips met. Kissing her sweetly, he threaded one hand through her hair, savouring the brief moment of contact before she pulled away again.
"You're so beautiful," Richard murmered, his hand moving to her face. "I love you very much, Camille."
"I love you, Richard Poole," she replied softly
Her head rested against his shoulder and she let her eyes drift closed. Her date may have been a disaster but she decided that if she got to spend the evening like this, with Richard, it would not be a wasted night.