Bound & Determined
G. L. Dartt
Rain fell steadily from the overcast sky, the dark clouds so low, it was as if they too were weeping this day. In the cemetery, the drone of the vicar did little to offer enlightenment or solace to the few standing by the gravesite. Her jaw set to keep it from trembling, Helen Stewart stared blankly at the dark wood of the coffin, glistening with drops of water that gathered and rolled down the sides in rivulets of shiny trails. Inside were the pitiful remains of Shaz Wylie who had perished in a fire at Larkhall prison.
Helen hated funerals. She had ever since she’d stood in uncomprehending misery as her mother was buried in a sparse little cemetery in the tiny Scottish village that Helen had fled as soon as she was old enough. This cemetery, in contrast, was huge, the property of the great city of London, and those buried amid the dreary surroundings were barely one step up from Potter’s field. There was no family plot, just a little patch of ground purchased by these women who couldn’t bear to see Shaz laid to rest without any acknowledgement at all. Her family, such as it was, had absolved themselves of providing a funeral, declaring that since she’d died in their care, it was up to the prison service to take care of it. The prison service would, in the form of a quick cremation and disposal, but Helen found that unacceptable. After weeks of wrangling, they’d managed to take possession of the remains and arranged for the funeral.
Across the gravesite, Monica Lindsay wept quietly, while her friend, Palmo, patted her consolingly on the back. Eventually, the vicar meandered to the end of a service that showed no recognition of who Shaz had really been. The formalities over, Monica and Palmo immediately headed for the car, as did the vicar, anxious to get to dryer conditions. Helen didn’t move, so Nikki stayed as well, holding the umbrella to keep the worst of the rain off them, maintaining a steady presence at her side.
“It’s shit that none of her friends could be here,” Helen said finally, in a voice that grated. “It’s shit that Denny couldn’t be here.”
“Even if Larkhall wasn’t in lockdown, they wouldn’t have been able to come.” Nikki sighed quietly. “But they’ll hold a memorial service of some kind, and remember her in their hearts. That’s what really counts in the end, not seeing the remains buried.”
Helen sniffed and blinked back tears. “It’s still shit.”
Helen felt Nikki slip her arm around her shoulders, squeezing her lightly. “Shit happens.”
It was said kindly, but it still cut to the bone because Helen knew how sadly truthful it was. She swallowed hard and tried not to weep. “I never thanked you.”
“For what?”
“For taking care of everything. For paying for the plot and arranging for a stone.”
“We took care of it, Helen, it came out of our joint account.”
Helen knew about the joint account. They each took the same percentage of their income and placed it into an account for household expenses and joint ventures. The difference was that Helen’s percentage was usually less than three hundred quid per month, while Nikki’s numbered in the thousands because of co-owning the most successful lesbian nightclub in the city. It was a discomforting reality of their respective economic worth and Helen was still adapting to it.
“Thank you anyway for organizing everything.”
Nikki was quiet for a moment, “You’re welcome,” she said finally. It didn’t sound as if it was what she wanted to say but she didn’t add anything to it. Instead, she leaned over and kissed Helen’s forehead. “Come on. You’ll catch cold standing here.”
Helen hesitated, taking a long last look at the casket as nearby, the diggers waited impatiently, anxious to fill in the grave and head home for tea. Finally, she reached out and laid a gentle hand on the top before allowing Nikki to draw her away. In the passenger seat of Nikki’s Porsche, she leaned her head against the glass and stared out at the rain as Nikki navigated out of the twisty lanes of the cemetery and back onto the city streets. She didn’t speak as they headed for home but Helen could feel the weight of the silence between them, could sense how much Nikki wanted to ask her something but was reluctant to.
“I always hated funerals,” Helen offered finally. “Ever since…” She faltered, swallowing hard.
“Your mum.”
“Yeah.” Helen, still staring out the window, felt Nikki take her hand and grip it tightly. She closed her eyes, and the tears she’d held back finally overflowed and slid down her cheeks. Nikki just held her hand, releasing it periodically to shift, but always returning her grasp so that Helen knew she was there, and that she understood. By the time they arrived at their flat, Helen had cried herself out, eyes swollen, but feeling lighter somehow.
The private car park where they kept their vehicles was down the block from the building containing Libertà, the café Nikki now owned and operated after discovering that managing a nightclub wasn’t conducive to living with someone who worked eight to five every weekday. Closing at two in the afternoon, it allowed Nikki to be there when Helen got home after work, and to do such things as attend a three o’clock funeral.
Two floors above, in the spacious flat they shared, Helen took off her coat and put it in the closet, along with Nikki’s. Pausing by the floor-to-ceiling pane of an etched rose in frosted glass that bisected the arch leading from the foyer to the rest of the dwelling, she watched as Nikki placed her car keys in the computer desk. Dressed entirely in black, the outfit was tailored exquisitely for Nikki’s lean, lanky form. She looked like a fashion plate, even when going to a funeral. Her short, dark hair curled around nicely shaped ears and at the back of her neck, reaching past the collar of her linen shirt. Her dark eyes rose and she met Helen’s gaze, an eyebrow lifting inquiringly.
“You need a haircut,” Helen said huskily, rather than the soppy thing she really wanted to say. After all, it wouldn’t do for Nikki to know how completely besotted she was. A girl had to maintain a little advantage in a relationship.
Nikki smiled crookedly, reaching up to tug at her hair. “I am getting a bit shaggy, aren’t I? I haven’t had time to go to the hairdresser this month.”
And of course, Helen found that completely adorable, as well. Almost involuntarily, she moved toward the waiting embrace, surrendering to the loving strength of Nikki’s arms.
“Are you all right, Helen?” Nikki asked quietly as she held her tight.
Helen molded her body to hers, wanting to feel as much of her against her as she could manage. “Not really,” she muttered into the warm curve of Nikki’s shoulder and neck. “But I will be.”
Nikki made a small sound, either assent or dismay at her partner’s disquiet, but didn’t say anything. She just held her and it was all Helen could want or need, cosseted in this place of complete love and security. Finally, she felt Nikki’s lips brush over the curve of her ear, nuzzling her gently.
“Any word from Della?”
Helen sighed. “Not yet. She promised she’d have a definite answer by this Friday, so I’ll know tomorrow, one way or another.”
A few weeks earlier, she had presented a proposal to her boss at the Home Office’s Correctional & Rehabilitation Policy Unit where she worked as a programs coordinator. She hoped to be able to create and personally administer individual programs for those female inmates that slipped through the cracks, just as Shaz had done. It meant going into the prisons again, and dealing with each case separately, but it was the sort of work at which Helen thrived. And it was the sort of work that she’d missed the most since joining the Unit.
Helen didn’t want to think about what she would do if the proposal was turned down. Della had seemed relatively enthusiastic about the idea, but she also answered to a higher authority in the Home Office who might be less than keen about one of their members spending so much time dealing with prisoners serving life in prison. But Helen knew she could make a difference with them. She already had. The proof was holding her.
Nikki Wade had been serving a life sentence for killing a cop who had tried to rape her girlfriend, Trisha. While working as the governor of G-wing, Helen had been inexplicably drawn to the brooding, tragic figure, initially intrigued, then attracted and finally falling in love with her. Because Helen hadn’t given up on her despite their many setbacks, Nikki eventually had her murder sentence reduced on appeal to manslaughter with time served.
They couldn’t all be saved, but Helen knew there were others like Nikki who had been unfairly treated by the system, and needed the sort of help she could provide. If she couldn’t work for them through the Unit, then she’d find another way, even if it meant going out on her own. It was a daunting thought, but she knew that she’d have the full support of her partner behind her and that was all she ever really needed.
“I love you, Nikki,” she said quietly, tightening her embrace. “Do I tell you that enough?”
“Well, it’s always nice to hear, but yeah, Helen, I know you love me.” Nikki kissed her ear lightly. “I hope you know how I feel.”
“God, I always know how you feel, and how you felt, from the first moment you made me touch your breast in the potting shed. It’s me who doesn’t always know how to show it.”
“Well, if you want to force me to touch your breast, I think I could manage not to recoil in horror.”
Helen smiled ruefully. “I was such a berk back then, wasn’t I?”
“You were on the cusp of a great revelation,” Nikki told her fondly. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you through it a bit more rather than just making it all harder to deal with.”
“You didn’t make it harder, Nikki. God, I wouldn’t have even had the revelation if it weren’t for you.”
“I think you would have figured it out eventually.”
“Really? I don’t see how.”
“Oh, easy. When Claire broke up with Heather, she would have started looking around, spotted you all ripe and ready, and the next thing you know, she’d have shagged you silly, thus putting you in touch with your true self.”
That was so patently ridiculous that Helen had to laugh, which she suspected had been Nikki’s sole intention in the first place, helping her chase away the last of the shadows plaguing her since the funeral. Claire was Helen’s best friend and while she loved her dearly, she had never found her the slightest bit attractive, nor Claire, her. They just weren’t each other’s type. Helen liked them tall, dark and handsome, or in Nikki’s case, beautiful. Claire was slight and slender, with dark blonde hair and a formidable intelligence that often left Helen confounded. Claire had known she was gay since very young, though she didn’t officially come out until university. Helen had arrived at the conclusion a great deal later in life…to the complete astonishment of them both.
“Speaking of Claire, have you heard from her lately?” Nikki asked.
Helen shook her head. “Not since the party. Do you think she and Trisha?”
“I don’t know, but I haven’t come across Trisha either. The couple of times I stopped by the club, she’s been out. And she hasn’t returned my calls.”
“They must be shagging each other’s brains out.”
Nikki smiled in remembrance. “We did in the beginning.”
“Once I convinced you it would be all right,” Helen said dryly.
“Hey, a girl can’t give it up too easily, you know.”
“Oh, that was the thinking, was it? I was under the impression you were just being bloody minded.”
“Maybe a little,” Nikki laughed.
Helen kissed her neck and then her cheek. “Tell me, Nikki, is it weird having your ex-girlfriend dating my best friend?”
“I think it’s weirder for them, but that’s lesbians for you, Helen.” Nikki shrugged and looked at her with a half-smile. “We mix it up with each other so much, it’s practically incestuous.”
Nikki idly stroked the back of her neck, pleased that she’d been able to squeeze in an appointment with the spa that morning. With any luck, she’d be back to Libertà before the lunch rush. Wheeling her Boxster into the car park, she glanced over and saw the charcoal colored BMW that indicated Trisha was already at Chix. Nikki checked her watch, determined that she could spare some time before getting back to the café, and headed down the street to the high, concrete building housing the nightclub.
Inside the building, she used her key to open the door to the nightclub and crossed the darkened, empty dance floor. A thin beam of light was visible under the office door by the bar and she headed toward it. Hesitating briefly, she wondered if she should knock now that Trisha had a girlfriend. She might walk in on something she’d rather not see. On the other hand, Claire should be at work this time of day, so she took a chance and opened the door.
Trisha glanced up from where she was working on the computer, eyebrow lifting slightly as she identified her visitor. “Hi, Nikki.”
Nikki studied her a moment, trying to determine if anything had changed. Trisha might have appeared a little more relaxed than in recent times, but Nikki couldn’t be sure.
“Hiya. What’s with not returning my calls or checking your emails?”
Trisha smile faintly, returning her attention to the screen. “Haven’t been home much, lately. Why don’t you try emailing me here once in a while?”
Nikki checked the time again and settled into the chair across the desk from her. “So why haven’t you been home lately?”
Trisha’s cheeks colored slightly, but she didn’t look up. “Figure it out, Nikki.”
Nikki smiled broadly, vastly amused. “Oh, I think I already figured it out. I just want it confirmed.”
“I was unaware it was any of your business.”
“It’s not, but you know you’re just dying to share all the gory details with someone, so it might as well be me.” Trisha frowned at Nikki who grinned cheerfully back at her. “Well?”
“God, Nikki, we’re working it out, all right?” Letting her breath out in a huff, Trisha pushed her chair back from the desk.
“Sounds grim. Is she that bad in bed?”
“Jesus, Nikki.” The tone of exasperation was very familiar. “It’s not like that at all.” Suddenly, Trisha’s stern mien dissolved into a rather goofy grin. “She’s fantastic. More than I could have ever imagined.”
“Better than me?” Nikki made sure she sounded properly incredulous.
Trisha picked up the nearest file and flung it at her. Nikki laughed and ducked, invoices from the brewery and receipts from the cash-and-carry raining over her from the brown folder. Feeling a little guilty about taking the piss with what was clearly a too-easy target, she helped Trisha pick them up before restoring the folder to the desk. “Well, just answer me this, then; are you happy?”
“So far, it’s good,” Trisha said briskly as she resumed her seat. “That’s all I can ask.”
Nikki eyed her narrowly. “Scared of enjoying it, Trish? You can, you know.”
“I know. I’m just being careful.”
“Aw, embrace it, Trish.”
“Weren’t you the one warning me off this whole thing in the beginning?”
“Yeah, but since you were so bound and determined to get involved despite all my good advice, there’s no point in holding back now.” Nikki shrugged lightly. “Just don’t do that thing you do.”
Brows drawing down, Trisha glared at her. “What thing?”
“That thing you do where you’re convinced it’s all going to go wrong if you enjoy it too much. It cheats you. And it cheats Claire.”
That stung Trisha, Nikki could see, but she couldn’t see any other way of saying it. Not that it was necessarily her place to say it, of course, but who better than someone who’d been with her for nine years and knew all her quirks inside and out.
“I don’t do that.”
“Of course, you do. With us, it was two years before you finally relaxed and started to appreciate what you had. Try appreciating it from the beginning this time.” Nikki thought about Shaz and the life she’d never be able to experience, sadness surging strong through her chest. “Life’s too bloody short otherwise.”
Trisha immediately sobered. “What’s wrong, ‘Nik?”
Embarrassed that she’d let it show so blatantly, Nikki dipped her head. “Did you hear about the fire at Larkhall?”
“Caught it on the news. Did you know anyone there?”
“Yeah, my cellmate, Barbara was injured. One of the kids I knew on the wing, Shaz…she died. Her funeral was yesterday.”
“Aw, hell, I’m sorry, Nikki.”
“Yeah, Helen was pretty shaken up by it all. She worked with Shaz at one time, you see. But I think a lot of it is imagining what could have happened had I still been banged up in there. It’s understandable, I suppose. Her replacement as Number One barely made it out alive. It makes me sick to think about it.” She sighed and put her feet up on the desk. “And she’s a little dissatisfied at work. She likes more hands on with her cases.”
“Like she was with you, you mean?” Trisha offered dryly.
Nikki paused, tried not to smile at the comment, and finally had to. “She’s pitching a new idea to her boss and if she gets the go-ahead, she’ll be working directly with women inmates again. I trust history won’t be repeating itself,” she added wryly.
Trisha lifted her brow. “You know, I really hope you don’t expect me to confide in you about Claire like this.”
“What? You think it’s odd, us being friends like this?”
“Don’t you?”
Nikki thought about it and then shrugged. “I think any relationship is what two people make it. I like being friends with you, Trish, but if it’s a problem---“
“I’m not saying that, ‘Nik,” she interrupted quickly. “I’m just saying…Claire and Helen are friends. Do you think they talk about us this way?”
Nikki blinked. “I don’t know. Probably.”
Actually, she had never really thought about it before. She knew that Helen confided in Claire, of course, but just how far did that go? Did she just talk about the relationship as a concept or did she talk about the gritty details of their sex life? While Nikki shared things with Trisha, she never wandered into the bedroom. Part of that was propriety, but mostly it was about not wanting to hurt Trisha on some level because of their past. Helen wouldn’t necessarily have that concern with Claire. Nikki felt her head start to ache.
“Bullocks.”
“My point exactly. Where are the lines, Nikki? I never used to talk to Amanda like this when you and I were together.”
“Of course, you didn’t, Mandy was a muppet.” Nikki said dismissively. She’d never gotten on with Trisha’s friend from the local FE College. “Whatever happened to her, anyway?”
“Moved to Spain. Wanted to be near the beach, apparently.”
“And anyway, you never slept with her.”
Trisha just stared at her.
“You did?” Nikki shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “You never told me.”
“I was just returning the courtesy. I didn’t want to hear about all your conquests before me either.”
“We weren’t together long enough,” Nikki muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re such a gobshite, Nikki.”
Nikki laughed. “Seriously, babes, it means a lot to me that we’re able to stay friends.”
“It means a lot to me, too. I just don’t want there to be any misunderstandings, particularly now that I’m with Claire.”
“There you go, jumping at shadows again.”
“Go to work, ‘Nik.”
Nikki glanced at her watch and jumped to her feet. “Shit. I didn’t mean to stay so long.”
Out on the pavement, Nikki strode rapidly up the street to her café. She’d left Kate, one of her employees, in charge, so she wasn’t overly worried about it, but she still liked to be there in the event anything went wrong. Inside Libertà, it was packed with the typical Friday lunch crowd of suits from the local businesses. At full capacity, they could seat about forty and it seemed like every chair had an arse on it with more waiting at the counter. Nikki didn’t hesitate. She whipped off her coat, tossed it into the office at the back, and started waiting tables.
By the time two rolled around and the last of the punters had trailed out, she was nearly dead on her feet, as was her staff. She tried to rotate them so that they each had a couple of days off through the week, though they all worked on Friday and Saturday. Nikki worked every day, as the cook when Pam was off, or as waitress when either Kate or Jenna was off. She wondered if it was time to hire more people. Let Kate manage things a couple of days of week and give Nikki a break so she could have some time, not only for herself, but with Helen as well. They really couldn’t go out in the evening, even on the weekends, because Nikki had to be up so early. The only problem with that idea was while Nikki trusted Kate, it was only to a point. She’d spent a couple of years in prison for embezzlement and though Nikki didn’t think Kate would rip her off, there was no need to lead her into temptation by granting her ready access to the safe, either.
She’d have to think about it, she decided. And maybe give Monica a call and let her know she was looking to take on an additional project or two.
Once the café was cleaned for the next day and she had ushered her staff out, it was nearly half three. After balancing the till and placing the day’s takings in the safe, she locked the doors and headed upstairs. In the flat, she assembled a casserole from leftovers, spread herbs and grated cheese over it, which made practically anything edible, and tossed the whole thing into the oven to bake.
In the ensuite shower, she scrubbed away the lingering smells of cooking oil from her body, wanting to leave it all downstairs. After dressing in a white vest and a pair of jeans, she returned to the kitchen just in time to see Helen coming through the door. There was a discernable sparkle in those gorgeous green eyes and a sprightly spring to her step that couldn’t be missed.
“Good news, I gather,” she said as Helen tossed her briefcase on the desk and seized Nikki by the arms.
“It’s bloody great news.” Helen was giddy, just as she’d been when she told Nikki that her appeal was going forward.
Nikki couldn’t help but be infected with her obvious exhilaration. She smiled and gripped her elbows. “Della agreed to your outreach programs.”
“I’ll start gathering a caseload on Tuesday.” Helen told her. “Della’s allowed me two days a week to start with. If it goes well, I’m hoping it could become full-time. Only thing is, travel expenses will probably have to come out of my wage packet for a while, at least until we can make a case for funding---“
“Don’t worry about the money, darling,” Nikki interrupted. “We’re more than comfortable and even if we weren’t, this is what you want. We’d find a way to make it work.”
Helen stared at her and it was almost as if words failed her. Then she nearly knocked Nikki off her feet as she wrapped her arms around her neck and kissed her until she was breathless.
And clearly would have taken things much further if they hadn’t smelled the casserole starting to crisp.
After salvaging the casserole and finding a celebratory bottle of champagne, the couple sat close to each other at their dining table, candles providing their only illumination. Helen looked at Nikki in the gentle light of the flickering flames and thought her heart would burst with happiness and contentment. Everything seemed to be falling into place so neatly, that it was almost a bit frightening.
“What?” Nikki’s dark eyes caressed Helen with their loving gaze. “You’ve had a brilliant day. Why the long face?”
Helen shook her head slightly. “Everything’s so good now. I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Christ!” Nikki threw up her hands. “You and Trisha make a right pair. She gets ants in her pants when things start going well for her, too.”
“You saw Trisha?”
“I decided it was about time the mountain paid a visit to Mohammed, so I popped into the club.”
“Did she say anything about her and Claire?”
Nikki nodded. “They’re getting on great, so great in fact that Trisha’s convinced herself it’s only a matter of time before the rug’s pulled out from under her.” Nikki reached over and entwined her fingers with Helen’s. “Why can’t you two just accept that you deserve good things to happen to you?”
“This coming from the woman who always ascribes the worst connotation to anything that happens.”
“That was when I was in Larkhall.”
Helen lifted her brow. “Remember when you found your letter in my crap drawer last spring?”
“Fresh out of Larkhall, then.” Nikki made a face at her. “And it was after that incident that I stopped being so bloody minded.”
Helen squeezed her fingers. “True, you did.” She exhaled slowly. “It’s just that in the past things never seemed to work out for me, Nikki. I suppose I’m not used to this.”
“Well, has it occurred to you that now you’ve stopped struggling so much against what life hands you, it all comes much easier?”
“God, is it really that simple?”
“It can be.” Nikki leaned forward, gaze intent on Helen’s. “I know that in Larkhall, I was bitter and fighting every day, even when there wasn’t anything to fight. It was bloody exhausting. I barely had the sense to latch on to the best thing that could ever happen to me. Even then, I did my best to drive you away, what with my crazy jealousy and temper tantrums. It’s only when I concentrated on my appeal and accepted what happened to me that I got you back.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’d have always come back to you no matter what. It just took me a while to come to my senses.” Helen brought Nikki’s hand up to her lips, kissing the palm, and the inside of her wrist. “And you weren’t bitter, you were passionate. You didn’t fight everything, just injustice. It’s what made me fall in love with you.”
“What? It wasn’t my looks?”
“Well, those, too.” Helen smiled and reached out, slipping her hand around Nikki’s head and bringing her lips to her in a long, slow kiss. Her fingers teased the trimmed hairs at the back of her neck. “I see you finally managed to make it to the hairdresser’s.”
“Yeah. Had my legs waxed, too…among other things.”
Helen winced. “Ouch. Why don’t you make do with a razor and clippers like the rest of us?”
“I had four years of slicing myself to ribbons at Larkhall. Now it’s time for the professionals to take care of it.”
“I’m not sure I like the idea of professionals waxing my woman down there.”
“Yeah, because the agonized grimace on my face is sooo sexy.” Nikki kissed her. “Besides, you love how smooth everything is, which is a world of difference from the night I escaped. It’s a wonder you didn’t get lost in all that undergrowth.”
Helen couldn’t help it. She had to laugh. “I managed.”
“Ah, yes, my intrepid little explorer.” Nikki kissed her again, her mouth lingering on Helen’s. “So, are we finished dinner?”
Helen, whose plate was still mostly full, didn’t hesitate. “Completely.”
Nikki jumped up and scooped up their plates, bearing them off to the fridge. Helen quickly blew out the candles, grabbed the bottle of champagne and two glasses and scurried off to the bedroom. By the time Nikki joined her, Helen had more candles lit, two fresh glasses poured and was already half undressed, naked to the waist.
When Nikki strode in, looking rather butch in her white vest that left her shapely arms and shoulders bare and clung to the rest of her curves, Helen smiled widely and offered her the glass of bubbly. “What took you so long?”
“I had to put away the rest of the casserole.” Her eyes raked over Helen’s torso, a slight curl to the corner of her mouth as she accepted the champagne. “Love your waitressing technique.”
“You could always give me a job in the café if this Home Office thing doesn’t work out.”
“My license doesn’t cover that kind of uniform.” Nikki wrapped a long arm around Helen’s waist and pulled her to her. “Besides, we couldn’t handle the increase in business. We’re packed out at lunchtime as it is.”
Helen smiled and snuggled into her body, loving how the soft cotton of Nikki’s vest felt against her bare skin. When Nikki kissed her, her mouth tasting of champagne and deep desire, it heralded a most wonderful end to a very successful day.
Early in the morning, she felt Nikki leave their bed for the bistro, but she was too pleasantly sated and relaxed from their evening long exertions to do anything but roll over and resume her slumber. Some indeterminate time later, she finally emerged from her sleep, completely rested and refreshed and feeling a touch guilty about enjoying her lie in so much when Nikki couldn’t share it with her. She wondered if she should suggest that Nikki take on some extra help to give her some time off. It would be nice to spend some mornings in bed the way they used to just after Nikki’s release from Larkhall. The trouble was that Nikki had jumped into the whole café business to begin with just so that she could spend her evenings with Helen. Was Helen being greedy in wanting Nikki to be there all through the weekend as well? Sighing, she realized it wasn’t something she could easily answer and slipped out of bed.
Positively starved after not finishing dinner the night before, Helen padded into the ensuite, took a quick shower and wrapped a robe around her body. Before she could reach the fridge and the previous evening’s leftovers, the intercom buzzed and she was diverted to the foyer.
“Yes?”
“It’s Claire.”
“Oh, my God, come on up.”
Tightening the tie of her robe, a little embarrassed that she wasn’t yet dressed, Helen opened the door just as Claire reached the top of the staircase. “Where the hell have you been?” she exclaimed as she hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks. You don’t return my messages, you don’t answer your email…I was starting to think you died.”
“I’ve been busy,” Claire told her briskly as she entered the flat. She shot a look at Helen’s robe. “Have I come at a bad time?”
“No, I’m just running a little late,” Helen replied cheerfully. “So, you’ve been ‘busy’. Is that what they call shagging one’s brains out now?”
To her great delight, Claire blushed furiously, and with her fair skin, it was impressive indeed. Taking her arm, Helen led her into the living room where she settled her on the sofa. Perched on the settee, she pinned her friend with a look of pure expectation. “Tell me everything.”
Claire hesitated, and then blushed again. “It’s been just amazing, Helen. Trisha is just so wonderful and loving and there’s this thing she does with her tong—”
“Stop!” Helen held up her hand. “I meant; tell me everything but what Trisha’s like as a lover. I don’t need to know anything about that.”
Claire was outraged. “That’s not fair! You told me everything about Nikki’s abilities in bed. Bragged about them, in fact.”
“That’s different. Nikki wasn’t Heather’s ex.”
“Well, she’s Trisha’s ex!”
“But you weren’t seeing Trisha at the time I was telling you about Nikki,” Helen explained patiently. “Once you started seeing Trisha, I stopped telling you about Nikki.”
“What was left to tell?” Claire stared at Helen, completely stymied. “And where do you come up with these rules, anyway, Helen? I swear to God.”
“They’re not rules, they’re just etiquette.”
“Only in Helen Stewart land.”
“Look, I can’t have this conversation in my dressing-gown. There’s a casserole in the fridge. Stick it in the microwave while I get dressed.”
Claire shook her head, letting her breath out in a huff but she moved to the kitchen while Helen went off to the bedroom. After she changed her robe for a light blue Chix t-shirt and a pair of jeans, she rejoined Claire just as she was pulling the casserole from the microwave, steam rising from the cheesy surface.
“What the hell is this, anyway?”
“A Nikki Special, which means it’s delicious. Trust me on that.” Helen moved to the kitchen cabinets and started to pull out plates and utensils. “There’s a bottle of wine in the cooler.” Once they were finally seated, she smiled brightly at Claire. “Now, before we talk, just answer me this one question.”
“What?”
“Are you happy?”
“Ecstatic.” Claire smiled broadly.
Helen lifted her glass. “So am I.” And she was. If nothing else, recent events had clarified her professional position and granted her a new direction to pursue. Her personal life was, of course, just about perfect at this point. “So, let’s drink to happiness and the women who contribute to it." After taking a healthy swallow of the wine, she pinned Claire with a look. “Now tell me all about you and Trisha, and try to leave out the dirty bits.”
“What’s the point without the dirty bits?”
“There’s more to life than sex, Claire.”
“Spoken like a woman who’s been getting some on a regular basis.”
Helen thought about the previous evening and wondered if she looked as smug as she felt. She must have because Claire picked up a piece of garlic bread and threw it at her. “Hey, it’s obvious you’ve joined the ranks. Tell me, do you love her?”
That stopped Claire dead, her face hardening into stone. Helen immediately straightened in her seat and sobered. “Do you?”
“It’s too early to tell.”
“Bollocks. Do you love her?”
Claire stared at her, suddenly furious. “If I tell you, you can’t tell Nikki, because if you do, then she’ll tell Trisha.”
Helen inhaled slowly. Keeping things from Nikki was not a promise she gave easily, even to her best friend. But she supposed Claire had a point. It was complicated having her best friend date her partner’s ex. “All right, I won’t tell Nikki.”
Claire suddenly slumped, anger dissipating into what might have almost been despair. “I don’t know. I thought I loved Heather…no, I know I loved her, but I don’t remember it ever being this strong…this bloody intense, Helen. I think about Trisha all the time. We have such different hours that I can’t see her as much as I want or need to. When I’m with her, all I want to do is crawl into her arms and never leave. It nearly kills me when we have to say good-bye.”
Helen blinked. “Oh. Um, okay.”
“And I have no idea how she feels.”
“Probably like a woman who’s taking a chance after having her heart broken. Sound familiar? Come on, Claire, what makes you think she isn’t as screwed up about this as you are?”
Tears sprang to Claire’s eyes. “The worst part is that we talked about all this before we slept together, but making love changed everything.”
Helen took a sip of wine, remembering how she felt the day after she and Nikki first made love…and she had returned her to Larkhall. It had been more than she could bear, so she’d shoved the feelings deep inside herself, so deeply that she almost lost touch with them, believing them gone rather than merely buried and impacting everything she did.
“It does change everything,” she admitted. “And I get why you’re so wound up about it. But you need to talk to Trisha, because she’s the only one who can answer your questions. And you’re the only one who can answer hers.”
Claire looked at her bleakly. “What if I don’t like the answers?”
Helen smiled without humor. “Well, that’s the unfortunate thing, Claire. If it’s not driving you completely mad, then I reckon it’s not really love.”
Nikki felt Helen move restlessly beside her, unable to fall asleep. Rolling over, she wrapped her arms around her, pulling her back into her body, the curve of her back warm against her breasts and stomach. “What is it, darling?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“No?” Bemused, Nikki nuzzled into the warmth of her neck. “Why not?”
“Because I promised Claire I wouldn’t.”
“Ah, because I might tell Trisha? I see what you mean.”
“You do?” Helen turned her head, and in the muted illumination of the nightlight by the ensuite door, Nikki could see her expression was anxious. “I’m having a really hard time with it. I shouldn’t have promised her that I’d keep things from you.”
“It’s okay, Helen, she’s your best mate. Of course, you have to keep her secrets.” Nikki squeezed her lightly. “But it is getting a bit complicated having those two involved, isn’t it?”
“I suppose we were kidding ourselves thinking it would be smooth sailing.” Helen sighed softly and took Nikki’s hand, placing it on her breast over her nightshirt, not necessarily as something sexual, but almost as a form of comfort, hugging it to her. “I don’t remember Claire being this way when she met Heather. They fit together from the start.”
“No fireworks, in other words. Sounds deadly dull.”
“No, it…” Helen paused. “I was going to say it suited them, but maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s why they were together so long. Maybe they just didn’t know any better. They kept going on inertia.”
“Well, there are definitely fireworks with Trish and Claire. She had the stupidest grin on her face yesterday.” Nikki paused, not wanting to say it, but finding it almost impossible to hold it in. “She implied that Claire was…”
She trailed off and intrigued, Helen turned over more onto her back so that she could look up at Nikki. “Implied what? Claire was what?”
“Better than I was,” Nikki finished reluctantly.
“In bed, you mean? Impossible.”
“That’s what I thought,” Nikki said, indignant.
Helen smiled, and at the expression on Nikki’s face, started to laugh. Outraged, Nikki sat up in bed, stacking her pillows up against the headboard. Crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against them, she glared at Helen. “How could she be better? She’s a bloody solicitor.”
Helen, suddenly bemused, sobered and sat up as well, turning her body so that she could face Nikki. “You’re not really concerned about this, are you?”
Nikki held her gaze a moment, and then let her face relax. “Not really.”
Outraged, Helen shoved at her. “Cheeky. You were just trying to wind me up.”
Nikki wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close. “Maybe a little.”
“Because you know you’re the best that ever was,” Helen told her as she settled against Nikki’s body, leaning against her chest. “Or ever will be in the History of Lesbian Kind.”
“Now who’s taking the piss?”
“You’re not really jealous of Claire, are you?” Helen’s tone, though light, wasn’t entirely facetious.
Nikki was sorry she had started this. “Not at all,” she said firmly. “I think it’s fantastic that Trisha’s found someone, and Claire is terrific. They’ll be great together.” She pressed her face into Helen’s hair, inhaling the fragrance of shampoo and her own, special warm scent. “But I do love Trish, and I want her to be as happy as I am. Can you understand that?”
“Of course, I can,” Helen told her immediately. She turned her head and kissed Nikki’s chin, then her lips. “You have such a big heart, sweetheart.”
Nikki kissed her back and they spent a few moments enjoying that before resuming the conversation. “So, Trish will probably be talking to me in the future and obviously, Claire is already talking to you. We’re going to be caught up in this whole thing whether we want to be or not.”
“I guess we should lay down some ground rules about it.”
“I just knew there’d be rules involved.” Nikki sighed.
Helen poked her in the side before she snuggled closer. “We have to maintain their confidence. Nothing they say to us can get back to them. It’d be wrong.”
“Of course, it would,” Nikki agreed.
“That means you can’t tell me what Trisha says to you and I can’t tell you what Claire says to me. It’ll be too difficult to keep straight otherwise.”
“Okay.” Nikki shook her head. “Christ, this is harder than Larkhall, knowing what you can say and what you can’t.”
Helen brushed her cheek along Nikki’s collarbone. “I remember. You were so hard to convince that I could be trusted.”
“Well, you were a screw. I wasn’t going to grass anyone up.” She could feel her body tense instinctively, and with an effort, she relaxed, but Helen had noticed, drawing back to look at her in the bluish illumination of their nightlight.
“It’s still a sensitive subject for you.”
“Yeah, I suppose it is.” Nikki drew her fingers lightly along Helen’s forearm, feeling the fine hairs rise in her wake. “I don’t know why. It’s almost a year later.”
“It is coming up on the anniversary of your appeal, isn’t it?” Helen said thoughtfully. “Do you want to mark it?”
“What, with a bash or something?” Nikki thought about it, trying not to wince. “Honestly, Helen, I think I’d rather forget about the whole thing, put it behind me, once and for all.”
Helen’s face was so expressive that Nikki could follow her thought processes just by seeing how her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened marginally. Helen clearly didn’t agree with her, but was searching for a way to say it. Nikki sighed and dipped her head, looking up at Helen from beneath lowered lashes.
“Do you really like remembering it all?”
“It’s not about that, Nikki,” Helen said soberly. “It’s the fact that there’s a lot that still bothers you about that time, and if you try to bury it rather than deal with it, then it can have some serious repercussions. It impacts your actions whether you realize it or not.”
Nikki didn’t like the assessment, but her innate honesty made it impossible to disagree with her. There had been too many incidents in the past year that bore out Helen’s theory. “I suppose you’re right,” she admitted reluctantly. “The worst part is I never know what’s going to set me off until it does. Remember the row we had over redoing the upstairs loo?”
Helen made a small sound of distress at the reminder. “It was just a minor disagreement until I told you to sit down in the chair and listen. You went so completely white, I thought you were going to pass out. I didn’t even realize what I’d done until you screamed that I was never to tell you what to do ever again and stormed out. I was terrified you’d never come back.”
Nikki squirmed, embarrassed at the memory. “I had to. All my stuff was here.”
“The wounds that Larkhall left run deep,” Helen said quietly, ignoring Nikki’s pitiful attempt at humor. “We don’t know how deep until they’re uncovered. I found that out while I was in therapy with Paul. Remember how Trisha had to talk me down after that woman accosted me out back of Chix? That was Fenner’s doing. And that time you left the cinema and got sick on the pavement after seeing that character miscarry in the film? That was because of what happened to Carol. It lingers, Nikki. It stays with us long after we think it’s gone, and all we can do is try to deal with it when it surfaces.”
“Maybe, but I hate how that place still impacts on our lives.”
Helen uttered a laugh that wasn’t entirely devoid of humor. “Well, it’s not all grim, sweetheart. That time in my garden shed was bloody fantastic.”
Surprised, Nikki smiled, remembering how she and Helen had played out the fantasy of still being inmate and wing governor while having it off in the potting shed at Larkhall. It had been one of their more intense encounters and just the thought of it was enough to send a pleasant sliver of desire rippling through her.
“No, that wasn’t bad at all.” She casually rubbed her knuckles over Helen’s left nipple, feeling it grow firm under her touch through the thin material of her nightshirt. Her voice lowered, becoming more intimate. “You came so hard, you nearly broke my wrist.”
She heard Helen’s breath catch. “It was amazing, but it just goes to show how powerful those memories can be. And until this recent bombing at Larkhall, we haven’t really been able to talk about them.”
Nikki cupped her breast, squeezing gently. “Do we really have to talk about them right now?” she asked plaintively.
Helen hesitated, and then made a sound of amusement. “You and your hormones.”
Nikki nuzzled her ear. “Like your hormones don’t put mine to shame.”
She continued to caress Helen’s breast through her shirt, enjoying how it caused her to whimper slightly as they kissed deeply. That sound never failed to fully arouse Nikki, so like the sound Helen had made in her cell the very first time they kissed. Tangling her hands in Nikki’s hair, Helen tugged on it a little as she bore her down onto the sheets.
“Are you sure?”
Nikki smiled. Helen always asked, even though it was hardly the first time they’d made love while she was ‘indisposed’ as she termed it. And Nikki always had to assure her that she had absolutely no problem touching her, even if it meant a little transfer of bodily fluid in the process.
“I’m positive, darling.” She always knew what time of the month it was for Helen. It was the only time she wore clothing to bed. And the only time she wore big, white granny knickers rather than the silk and lace panties she usually favored. “Besides, you know how much it helps with your cramping.”
“Oh, so it’s a medicinal remedy.”
“Of course,” Nikki muttered as she put her hand between her thighs and eased them apart. “Now open wide and say ‘ah’.”
Helen groaned loudly, and it wasn’t one of enjoyment, but she readily spread her legs at Nikki’s urging. Laughing, Nikki slipped her fingers under the elastic of Helen’s knickers, raking through the matted thatch of hair. As she lightly touched her, Helen quivered and made that wonderful whimper of surrender again. Her clit was swollen but dry, all moisture being intercepted before it escaped. That wouldn’t last long once her arousal increased, Nikki knew, which was why Helen also wore a liner, but in the meantime, a little outside assistance was required. Lifting her hand, she licked her fingertips lavishly, and then slipped back into Helen’s panties, rubbing over her in small, concentrated circles. Helen groaned again, and this time it was one of pure and utter gratification.
Nikki had yet to convince Helen to let her pleasure her orally during this time of the month, even though one bodily fluid wasn’t significantly different from the other in her mind, all originating from the same place after all. Nikki supposed it was that streak of small village Puritanism in Helen’s nature, the one that surfaced at such odd times, but was rather charming when it wasn’t completely pissing her off.
“Nikki.” Helen whispered her name and reached for her.
Nikki moaned as she felt Helen’s hand between her legs, fondling her as skillfully as Nikki touched her. Surrendering to the pleasure, even as she tried to maintain her concentration on what she was doing, Nikki found all thoughts of the past and prison slipping from her mind, which was exactly what she’d intended in the first place.
Afterward, she lay in drowsy satisfaction, spooned around the warm curve of Helen’s body, listening to her soft respiration, and feeling a complete and utter contentment. Brushing a strand of chestnut hair away from Helen’s face, she tucked it gently around her ear and put her lips next to it.
“I love you, Helen,” she whispered.
Helen made a small sound of pleasure and reached back to caress her hip, pulling her groin closer to her cotton covered buttocks. “Love you, too, sweetheart.”
Nikki kissed her cheek. “That’s for the morning, in case you’re not awake when I get up.”
“I probably won’t be.” Helen hesitated and Nikki knew there was still something on her mind. She hoped it didn’t have to do with Larkhall. “Nikki, have you thought about hiring more people for the café?”
Relieved, Nikki nuzzled into her neck. “Already considering it, darling. If it works out the way I want, I’ll be able to start taking off Sundays and Mondays. You and I will be able to do some things on the weekends now.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Helen said. You’re so good to me.”
“Hey, it was for me, too. I want us to be able to get away now and again. I can’t wait to make love to you on holiday.”
“Even if you are wearing your granny knickers.”
Claire’s flat was on the top floor of the building, a penthouse, and looked out over London to the east. It had been completely refurbished after her breakup with Heather, with Claire apparently wanting to toss out her memories along with the furniture. Trisha found it modern and stylish, just like its owner, but couldn’t help feeling that the result was a little impersonal. It just didn’t have that ‘lived-in’ feeling yet.
Despite all the cat hair about.
Trisha shut the door quietly behind her and stood there a moment, eyeing the brindled tabby that glared back malevolently. Despite being given a key to facilitate her coming and going with her late hours at the club, Trisha didn’t live here and if it was up to Hamilton, she never would. As she took a step toward the bedroom, he immediately left his position on the sofa, jumping to the floor with a substantial thud. He was not the most svelte of felines.
“Mangy furball,” Trisha said between clenched teeth.
Slipping out of her jacket, Trisha held it in front of her as she heard the low, rumbling growl begin in the back of his throat. Honestly, it was just insane trying to get to Claire’s bedroom on these nights she came over late. Whenever Claire was present, the cat pointedly ignored Trisha. But the second Claire left the room and wasn’t there to witness his perfidy, he would stalk Trisha, trying to get close enough to sink either his claws or his teeth into whatever body part happened to be available.
Keeping her jacket in front of her as if she were a matador attempting to divert the rush of a bull, Trisha shuffled through the neat and tidy living room. She didn’t dare turn her back on him as he crouched in the middle of the floor, ears flattened, his tail whipping back and forth like a live wire. Making a wide circle, she managed to get to the door leading to the bedroom. Groping behind her, never taking her eyes off Hamilton, she finally found the doorknob and twisted it open. Just as she did, Hamilton made his move, bounding toward her. Flinging her jacket over him, she threw open the door, dashed into the bedroom and shut it firmly behind her, doing her best not to slam it.
On the other side of the barricade, she could hear Hamilton’s claws at work, shredding her jacket with a thorough and wicked pleasure amid a chorus of happy yowls. It would be all over the living room by morning, and Claire would admonish Trisha for leaving it where he could get at it.
After losing a beautiful leather coat during her first stay over, and a very stylish, if less expensive, blazer the next, Trisha had taken to wearing extremely cheap jackets she picked up at various charity shops every week. She was hoping that eventually she’d find one impregnated with rat poison or something that would fix Hamilton good and proper.
Taking a deep breath, she turned and looked at the low bed and the slumbering form tucked up in the middle of it. Claire looked so small and slight, but Trisha knew that appearances could be deceiving when it came to the solicitor. There was pure steel in that lovely spine and solid titanium in her heart when it came to the practical side of things. Even so, Trisha still felt ridiculously protective as she looked at her. Quickly, she shucked her clothes and very carefully eased between the sheets, snuggling in behind her.
Claire stirred and murmured something that Trisha couldn’t quite make out. “Trisha?”
Smiling, she slipped her arms around her and kissed her neck. “You were expecting someone else?”
“What time is it?”
“Half four,” Trisha said with a bit of regret. She could tell Claire was tired. “Go back to sleep.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Claire rolled over and cuddled into her body. “How was your night?”
“Typical Saturday,” Trisha told her as she smoothed her hands over the t-shirt and boxers Claire was in the habit of wearing to bed. “Lots of sharks on the pull.”
“All trying to pull you, no doubt.”
Trisha nuzzled her lightly. “Yeah, but I told them my woman would sue their arses off if they so much as laid a hand on me.”
“By all means, use the law as a stick to beat off your admirers.”
“You have a better idea?”
“Mmm, next Saturday night, I’ll come over and make my presence felt.”
Trisha slipped her hand under Claire’s shirt, stroking her soft skin. “How about making it felt now?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Claire kissed her ardently, and rolled her over.
Once past a certain, initial hesitation, Claire had turned out to be a very aggressive and passionate lover, one that Trisha, always ready to try any and everything, found deeply satisfying. On some level, Claire was more compatible to her needs than Nikki had been. Not that she and Nikki hadn’t had a wonderful sex life during their time together, they had, but Nikki was surprisingly gentle in the bedroom, preferring to make love rather than be thoroughly fucked from one end of the bed to the other. Claire demanded the latter, and Trisha was more than eager to provide it, because it was frequently what she wanted as well. It was possible they would slow down in the future, but for now, their encounters were extremely energetic and even athletic at times.
Afterwards, panting hard for breath and wondering if she’d dislocated one of her fingers during that last move, Trisha looked up into Claire’s sweaty, disheveled features and smiled. “Finished?”
“Not quite,” Claire grunted and did something rather interesting with her internal muscles that made her come yet again, slender body shuddering in complete abandon before collapsing helplessly onto Trisha.
Withdrawing carefully, as much to protect her abused digits as Claire’s delicate tissue, Trisha shook out her hand, wincing slightly. Not dislocated, she decided, but definitely overstressed.
Claire lolled happily on Trisha, kissing her neck and chin, her weight soft and somewhat comforting. “God, I love what you do to me.”
“I love doing it,” Trisha said, hugging her close. “And what you do to me is beyond reason.”
“Still, I wish my fingers were longer,” Claire said fretfully. “Sometimes I get the feeling you would like me to go a bit deeper.”
Trisha kissed her. “Don’t be silly. You’re fantastic.” She paused, thinking about it. “Besides, if we want to go that route, we can always get a strap-on.”
Claire’s head popped up, her expression intrigued. “A strap-on? You mean one of those harnesses with the fake co---um, one of those sexual aids?”
“Sure.” Trisha regarded her closely. “Don’t tell me you’ve never tried one?”
Claire looked a bit embarrassed. “I always wanted to, but…” She trailed off.
Heather didn’t want to, Trisha finished silently for her. Apparently, Heather didn’t want to try a lot of things, according to the various hints she had picked up over the course of their many conversations. It was no surprise that Claire was so adventurous now. She had a lot of lost time to make up for.
“Well, next time I’m near a shop, I’ll pick one up for us.”
“A sex shop?”
Trisha swallowed back a laugh, suspecting it would be unappreciated. Claire continued to be this wonderful mixture of innocence and blatant horniness, anxious to explore all new experiences. “Yeah, there’s one just around the corner from the club.”
“I want to go with you. Can we do it today? Will it be open?”
Trisha felt a bit bemused by her eagerness. “Can I have a nap first?”
Claire lowered her eyes sheepishly. “Of course, you can. I forgot you haven’t been to sleep yet.” She kissed Trisha warmly, mouth lingering on her lips. “I’m sorry, Trish, I just want you in every way possible. I’m a bit too keen, I suppose.”
“Not at all,” Trisha assured her. “I love trying new things with you, Claire. I never had anyone who…” Now it was her turn to trail off uncertainly.
Claire’s sharp gaze focused on her. “Never had anyone who…what?”
Trisha sighed. She hadn’t meant to bring it up. “It’s just that in my past relationships, I’ve always been the one who’s been a bit too keen.”
“Even with Nikki?”
Trisha winced. “You can’t tell Helen about this! Swear to me!”
“Of course not, darling. Besides, Helen doesn’t want to hear about you as a lover. I think it makes her feel a bit inadequate or something.”
Trisha sincerely doubted that, but it was nice of Claire to try to make her think so. “Nikki’s tried practically everything, of course, because she was a real player in the early days, but really, when it comes right down to it, she’s the soppy sort in bed. She even cries sometimes.”
“I know, Helen told me.”
“Jesus, do you two share everything?”
“Don’t you and Nikki?”
“Not the stuff in the bedroom. That’s always been off limits with us…maybe because of our past.”
“Well, all those conversations between Helen and me took place before you and I became involved,” Claire told her with a bit of a sigh. She rubbed Trisha’s stomach, roaming in circles that expanded with every pass. Eventually, she’d be touching on extremely sensitive areas, Trisha determined with a mix of apprehension and anticipation. “Once we got together, Helen decided I wasn’t to find out any more about your ex. As if there was anything left to tell.”
“Is that one of your rules? I know how much you two love making them up out of thin air. I think that’s why you get on so well.”
Claire raked her fingers through the very dark triangle that gave lie to the hue of Trisha’s golden mane. Squirming in pleasure, Trisha wondered if this brief pause to talk had restored enough energy for another round. Certainly, the desire that raced through her let her know the spirit was willing regardless of how the flesh was doing.
“We’ve always been friends, ever since university,” Claire murmured as she dipped lower, stroking lavishly through Trisha’s wetness. “There’ve been periods when we’ve drifted apart a bit, but we always end up seeking each other out when times get rough. Does that bother you?”
Trisha found it hard to breathe as the cloying sensation radiated through her groin, making her toes curl. “Not at all,” she managed. Claire had a wonderful ability with her fingertips that made her touch feel new each and every time. “Everyone needs a best mate.”
“Is Nikki yours?”
“She was for a long time. That’s what made it so hard when she was banged up. I didn’t just lose my partner, I lost my friend and I really didn’t have anyone to talk to…not until you and I started working together.”
Trisha reached down and grabbed Claire’s wrist, ceasing the caresses for the time being because she really wanted to explain this properly and she couldn’t do that while Claire was making her so crazy. “Claire, honestly, you’re my best friend. Until you came along, I was scared I’d forgotten how to care about someone, not just physically, but emotionally, too.”
“I thought Joan took care of the physical stuff,” Claire said dryly, referring to Trisha’s ill-advised affair with a doctor while Nikki had been incarcerated. It had finished a relationship that was already failing due to separation and loneliness. She almost, but not quite, managed to conceal the hint of jealousy in her tone, one that warmed Trisha through and through.
Wrapping her arms around her, she kissed Claire very gently. “All Joan did was remind me how empty sex is without the caring that should go with it. You show me every time we’re together how wonderful it is to have both.”
Claire clung to her. “I do care about you, Trisha. So much.”
But she didn’t use the other word and Trisha was too afraid to be the one to use it first. So, she eased her back onto the mattress and made love to Claire as deeply and passionately as possible, hoping she could show her even if she couldn’t quite manage to say it.
Helen frowned at the spreadsheet on her screen and wondered how she could make the numbers convey the desperate need for education in the rehabilitation of prisoners. She’d always had a problem with statistics and hated the fact that that she’d ended up in a job that required her to utilize them on such a regular basis. She suspected that if Della hadn’t given the go ahead with her outreach proposal, she would have ended up resigning. Even working in Nikki’s café might have given her more opportunity to help women inmates than the Unit did, or at least, it felt that way sometimes.
She glanced at the time. With the holiday season over, she intended to increase her time working on her outreach programs, but she’d been around long enough to know it had to be done gradually. Trying to make changes in the prison service required the patience of Job, and the endurance of a distance runner. In the meantime, she would continue to play her part as the dutiful Unit coordinator three days a week and work on what she considered to be her real job the rest of the time.
And like everything in the prison service, it required a great deal of politicking to even get the initial outreach program off the ground. Area Management wanted any new rehabilitation procedures presented to them first, allowing them to go over them before they authorized any attempt by Helen to work with one of their lifers. But it would be more logical for her to choose a member of the prison population first, and then structure a program around her specific needs. Furthermore, since Helen had only two days a week to work on her caseload, she wanted to be sure she chose exactly the right candidate in the beginning. She needed a success story right out of the blocks if she wanted to tackle the more difficult cases later on.
She wanted someone who was intelligent and passionate and would respond to both education and encouragement. Someone who wouldn’t be deterred by the very real obstacles of prison bars and unfeeling screws and the possibility of failure. Someone who deserved to be helped because the justice system had let her down and her only hope was someone on the outside who could take on that system and make it work the right way for a change.
In short, Helen Stewart needed another Nikki Wade.
Unfortunately, the Nikki Wades of this world were rare indeed. Helen longingly eyed the stack of files sitting on the table by the door of her office. After several requests that were ignored for a variety of reasons by the prison’s personnel office, she had finally driven over to HMP Holloway in Islington to pick them up personally. It had taken most of the morning and she longed to go through them, but she had a report due on Della’s desk by the end of the day. Stifling a sigh, she resumed her attention to the computer screen and tried to come up with a new way of saying what should be self-evident to all involved.
A tap at her door several minutes later made her look up. “Come in.”
The other program coordinator, Dominic McAllister, poked his head in. A solidly built young man with boyish features and a ready smile, he and Helen had known each other since their early days at Larkhall. “Hey, Helen, got a minute?”
“Hiya, Dom. Of course, I have.” She pushed her chair back from the computer with relief at the excuse for a break as she motioned him to the chair opposite her on the other side of the desk. “What’s up?”
“I got chatting to some bloke in the pub last night,” he said as he settled into his seat. “I think what he told me might be of some interest to you.”
Helen lifted her brow, wondering what Dominic was doing in a pub on a Tuesday night, but deciding it was better if she didn’t know. “And why would gossip you’ve picked up from some random bloke in a pub interest me?”
“Cause the bloke in question is a PO at Larkhall, or more specifically, on G-wing. His name’s Colin Hedges,” Dominic said, smiling slightly when Helen’s head lifted. “We’d both had a bit to drink and ended up comparing notes about being in the job.”
“What’s going on at Larkhall?”
Helen leaned forward, trying not to seem too eager. Because of her current romantic relationship with Nikki, Della had made it clear that, in the beginning at least, Helen was to limit her outreach programs to Holloway. She wanted her to stay well clear of Larkhall and any potential conflict of interest charge being leveled at her by those in Area Management. This, of course, made any news about her old prison even more intriguing.
“Shell Dockley’s back on G-Wing.”
“No.”
Helen was astonished. First, that she was just now hearing about Dockley’s apprehension, and secondly, that the prison service had placed her back on the same wing from which she’d escaped a year earlier. Of course, no one could accuse those bureaucrats in Area Management of being particularly intelligent. There had probably been an opening on G-wing and rather than consider Shell’s history, they had bunged her back without a second thought.
Of course, Helen thought a bit uneasily, there was precedent for such a decision and that could be traced back directly to her. After Shell had stabbed Fenner, it was decided to transfer her to a secure psychiatric facility called Ashmore. Helen, using her influence from running the Lifer’s Unit, vetoed the decision, feeling that it was unfair to Shell. Perhaps Area Management decided that if a near deadly assault on a prison officer didn’t require a transfer to a different facility, then a little something like an escape shouldn’t do the trick, either.
Helen was convinced that Shell’s continued presence unsettled Fenner so much that he’d had a hand in planning her escape. Unfortunately, Helen had lacked the crucial evidence to prove it. As she had already learnt to her cost, no one could slither out of a tight spot as well as Jim-bloody-Fenner.
“She was found in Amsterdam, working as a stripper in a lap-dancing club. Colin, Fenner and a couple of others came across her during a lad’s weekend out after the fire.”
“Because the bombing was just so damaging to their delicate psyches,” Helen said acidly. “And that was their way of coping.”
Dominic grinned in appreciation of the sarcasm, but he wasn’t finished. “Shell worked the club as dominatrix ‘Naughty Nikki’. Apparently, she used the name Nikki Wade on her forged passport.” He grinned, and added hopefully; “Can I be there when you tell Nikki about that?”
Helen stared at him in abject horror. “Jesus Christ, Dominic!”
“I know. I nearly fell over when Colin told me. I didn’t let on I knew anyone involved, of course. Just that I’d worked in Larkhall in the past but I let him assume it was on another wing.” He continued, telling Helen how the men had recognized Shell, chased her through the club before finally catching up to her in the back alley. When he was finished, Helen dropped her face to her hands and groaned aloud.
“Nikki’s going to go ballistic. Why was Shell in the Netherlands?”
“Well, I understand she had a sugar daddy there, some British diplomat named Jeremy Pugh.” Dominic sobered, clearly aware that what he was about to say was no laughing matter. “He’s apparently the father of her child, Helen. Shell’s pregnant. She’s due any day now. That’s why she couldn’t get away when she did a runner from the club.”
“God.” Another woman going to give birth in prison only to see the child taken away and either placed with a family member or into the system, another ward of the state. Not that Shell would have been considered mother-of-the-year had she remained outside, but just the thought of it made Helen ill. “It never ends, does it, Dom?”
“No, but that’s why we keep trying to come up with programs that’ll make it better.”
Helen didn’t bother to tell him how futile that felt at times. After all, they were making a difference, whether it was apparent or not.
“Listen, Helen, can I change the subject a moment?”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Why did you tell Joan that Nikki had been in Larkhall?”
“I didn’t.” Helen felt her blood pressure rise as she thought about the doctor who acted as a consultant to the Unit one day a week. “She must have come across her name somewhere in the files.”
“Nikki’s in the files?”
“She was a student with the Open University. The program’s administered through the Unit.”
“But what would Joan be doing reading those?” Dominic frowned. “Do you suppose she recognized her at the party? Nikki was on television after her appeal was granted.”
“Maybe.” Helen exhaled slowly. “What difference does it make how she found out? I wasn’t really trying to keep it a secret. You know, Della knows, Paul knows. The only one who might not know at this point is Sarah.”
Dominic rolled his eyes. “Sarah wouldn’t care. She thinks Nikki is gorgeous.”
Startled, Helen smiled, feeling absurdly proud for some reason. “God, she even pulls the straight ones, doesn’t she?” Dominic looked a little less enamored of Nikki’s apparent irresistibility to women and, with an effort Helen swallowed her grin. “Why are you so concerned about this, Dom?”
“Because last week when Joan was in, she kept asking me questions about it in a real sly way,” he said. “You know, the way Fenner used to do when he was fishing for something to cause somebody grief.”
“And still does, no doubt. Well, Joan’s no Fenner, Dominic. She can’t really cause me any harm here.”
“No, but she still wants to. She’s been stroppy ever since you started here. Part of that’s jealousy, I think, because you’re Della’s favorite now…” Dominic trailed off, lifting his brows in an expression that clearly expected Helen to fill in the blanks.
Helen hadn’t considered that view of the situation. She’d decided that Joan caused trouble just for the sake of it. Simple jealousy simply hadn’t crossed her mind, even though she knew how very destructive an emotion it could be. “I’m Della’s favorite? Really?”
“Oh, come on, Helen, don’t play the innocent with me.” Dominic no longer regarded Helen with the same unfettered admiration as he had when she had been his superior. Now he took the piss with her the same way he would any of his other mates. “Everyone knows you’re her blue-eyed girl. I mean, do you really think she’d let anyone else talk her into the idea of personalized outreach programs?”
Now Helen was a bit embarrassed. “I’m sure that’s just a case of her realizing that I work better when I’m allowed to be a bit more ‘hands on’.”
Dominic grinned. “Like you had with Nikki?” he said slyly. “God, Helen, how many women can you handle at one time.”
“Get out of my office, Dominic.”
Laughing, he lifted himself out of the chair and disappeared out her door. Shaking her head, Helen returned to her report, finding it even more difficult to concentrate on it now than she had before with the news from Larkhall spinning in her head. It took all her vaunted discipline to buckle down and come up with enough official sounding bureaucratic speak to fill the required number of pages.
She left the office at five, arms full of her outreach folders, briefcase tucked under her left elbow. Juggling the stack all the way to the car, she deposited them on the back seat and slipped behind the wheel, letting out her breath in relief that she’d made it without dropping anything. From the corner of her eye, she saw Dominic’s car pull out of the car park and thought about the forty-five-minute commute he faced to reach the house in South London where she used to live. She was only ten minutes away from her new flat, or rather, eight and a half minutes if she hit all the lights just right, which she happened to do on this night.
Parking her Peugeot between Nikki’s Porsche and Trisha’s BMW, she garnered a double take from a couple of women heading for the club for the Two-For-One night. Ignoring them and the implied insult to her beloved car, she gathered up her folders and lugged them down the pavement toward the café. At the steel door off to the side, she propped her load against the wall and dug her entry card out of her pocket. Sticking it in the slot, the door clicked open and she used her foot to wedge it wider. Utilizing a combination of moves that would have put a ballerina to shame, she grabbed her folders and briefcase, removed her card with her teeth, and lunged through the door before it swung shut.
Trudging up two flights of stairs, she darkly considered the disadvantages of having a flat located on the third floor. But as she entered the foyer, she discovered lit candles on the dining table, the smell of something delicious cooking in the oven, and Nikki wearing that skintight black t-shirt that Helen always found such an incredible turn on.
And decided, just as she did every evening, that she had made the right decision moving into the posh new flat after all.
“Christ, Helen, you can’t be serious!” Nikki stared at her partner. “Shell was using my name in Holland?”
“In Spain, too, apparently. That’s where she and Denny first headed.”
“Well, at least she’s back in custody.” Nikki shook her head. “And they put her back on G-Wing. How long do you suppose it’ll be before she and Fenner are at it again?”
Helen looked as if she wanted to say something, but didn’t. Instead, she took another bite of her rice pilaf, chewing stoically. Nikki sighed and laced her fingers together, resting her chin on them as she regarded Helen soberly. “What?”
Helen shook her head. “Nothing.” When Nikki maintained her intent gaze, she sighed. “It’s just that I think you’re probably right. Even after everything that’s gone on between them, they’ll cook up some scheme and some other wee sod will end up suffering for it.”
“Well, darling, there’s not much you can do about it.” Nikki tried to say it as kindly as possible, knowing even as she did how much it would sting. She reached across and took Helen’s hand, squeezing lightly. “Help the ones you can. Isn’t that why you brought all those files home?”
Diverted nicely, Helen immediately brightened, glancing over at the brown folders stacked neatly on the coffee table in the living room. “Those are all the lifers currently serving time in Holloway. I’m sure to find at least one I can help.”
Nikki considered pointing out that a lot of the lifers in prison deserved to be there. The number of tough nuts she’d come across during her years behind bars far outnumbered those few who’d ended up on the wrong end of circumstances as she had. She nursed the uncomfortable feeling that Helen was about to embark on something that would end up breaking her heart. For all her adherence to rules and regulations, Helen cared deeply about her charges, and when things ended badly, as they sometimes did, she was completely devastated. Nikki hadn’t seen her immediately after Zandra’s death, but Helen had told her she’d been so grief-stricken, she couldn’t even go to the memorial service. Certainly, Nikki had witnessed to how upset she was after Shaz’s death. She wondered what would have happened to Helen if her appeal hadn’t gone through, and a sudden wave of nausea went through her.
“Nikki?”
Nikki blinked, realizing that Helen was staring at her oddly. “What?”
Helen frowned. “You had the oddest expression just now. As if you were about to be sick.”
Embarrassed, Nikki dipped her head, staring at her plate. “I just thought about what things would be like if my appeal hadn’t gone through. I’d be sitting in my cell right now.” She laughed. It sounded horribly forced. “You’d be off with Waugh somewhere, having dinner and thinking about your next charity case no doubt.”
Helen didn’t hesitate. She was off her chair and over onto Nikki’s lap, grabbing her by the front of her shirt and shaking her. “I’d never have given up on you,” she said through clenched teeth and Nikki knew she’d really pissed her off. “I’d have kept fighting until you were free or died trying. Damn it Nikki, I thought we were finished with this.”
Nikki took her by the arms and held her, keeping her from sliding off her lap. “We are,” she said meekly. “I’m sorry, Helen.” She was even more sorry when she saw the tears suddenly appear in the greenish eyes. Wrapping her arms around her, she hugged her tightly. “Honestly, Helen, I know you believed in me. I…it’s just sometimes I get flashbacks to what it was like back then. You were my hope, and when I thought I lost that…”
Helen bent her head. “I know I handled the whole thing badly. I hurt you so much, and I hurt Thomas and left so much unsaid….”
Nikki was thoroughly disgusted that she had opened this particular can of worms, especially since Helen was right. They had settled it months ago. It was just a habit to haul out the bad Helen memories every so often so she could poke and prod at them. Maybe it was even her way of avoiding the rest of it, the memories that really didn’t have anything to do with Helen and everything to do with what being in prison had done to her. The memories that preceded Helen’s arrival at Larkhall, when she’d been without hope and well on her way to becoming just another tough nut, difficult for difficult’s sake, just as Fenner had accused her.
“You saved me, Helen,” she told her in a shaky voice. “You saved me from all of it. Not just prison, but what it would have turned me into. Don’t ever doubt that. And for God’s sakes, please don’t ever let me make you doubt what you can do.”
Helen didn’t respond and Nikki buried her face in the soft chestnut hair. “I love you so much, Helen. And I’m so proud of you.” She kissed her ear. “Would you like me to help you with the files? Use my considerable experience with tough nuts to help you pick out a likely candidate?”
“Would you?” Helen’s response was muffled in the crook of Nikki’s neck, letting her know she was forgiven.
“After dinner, we’ll sit down and go through them together.”
Helen kissed her and reluctantly slid off her lap. Nikki mentally patted herself on the back for coming up with a way to smooth things over, and then kicked herself just as soundly for causing the mess in the first place. One of these days, she’d find a way to stop her gob from running away with her. Hopefully, before it was time for her to start drawing a pension.
After finishing dinner and washing up the dishes, the couple made themselves comfortable on the sofa. Nikki stretched out against some cushions and the arm of the couch as Helen positioned herself between her knees, leaning back against her body. While Helen held the folder open, Nikki read over her shoulder.
“You might want to be careful of a history of hardcore drug use,” Nikki offered. “That may be more than you want to tackle on your first case.”
“I know.” Helen glanced back at her. “You never used drugs in Larkhall, did you, sweetheart?”
“Not the heavy stuff. I didn’t like the power it gave the dealers. Any time I indulged, it was my own, not brought in by someone else.”
“What?” Shocked, Helen sat up and turned to look at her. “Your own? How?”
Nikki smiled. “Well, there were these tomato plants out by the potting shed that weren’t exactly tomato plants. You know, for being such a terror on drugs, you walked past them plenty of times and never noticed.” Helen just stared at her and Nikki squirmed. “Come on, Helen, it was just a bit of recreational use, and hell, when Zandra got sick, it was all that was available for her.” Nikki dipped her head, pinning her with a look. “What about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you’d been banged up, how would you have handled it? Walked with God on your side, like Crystal?”
“Just the opposite, Nikki. I’m afraid...” Helen swallowed hard and suddenly Nikki realized she’d touched something painful again, but this time, she wasn’t sure what it could be.
Gently, she rubbed her shoulders. “What?”
“You may have noticed that sometimes when I drink, I drink too much.” Helen’s voice wasn’t quite trembling, but it wasn’t entirely steady either.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Nikki said, disturbed at the implication.
“No, I do. I’m aware of it, though, and maybe that’s why I’m not over the edge into having a problem with it. But sometimes when things aren’t going right, it gets a bit dicey.” Helen leaned back into her body, seeming to need the intimacy and Nikki immediately put her arms around her, hugging her tightly. “The point is, if I ever found myself in the nick, I know I’d self-medicate myself into oblivion. There’s no question about it.”
“Jesus, Helen.”
“I know. Scary, isn’t it? It’s not the first time I’ve ever thought about it. Every time I dealt with it at Larkhall, I’d think that there but for the grace of God. And then I’d see inmates like you, who refused to give in, who stayed strong no matter what, and I wanted so much to clean it up for you so that you wouldn’t have to go through the strip searches and the restrictions.”
Nikki bit her lip so hard she could taste blood because, of course, she had gone through just that after one of Helen’s ill-advised early attempts to clean up the drug problem. Helen glanced back, saw the expression on her face, and winced. “Yes, well, I reckon I still owe you one for coming up with that idea, don’t I?”
It was such a silly thing to say that Nikki had to laugh. And after a few seconds, Helen laughed as well. “I’ll put it on your tab,” Nikki told her, kissing her ear. “Let’s get back to your lifers. There has to be some unlucky sod in Holloway who needs to have you in their corner.”
After going through the stack of files and weeding out those that were unsuitable for a variety of reasons, they were left with a much smaller pile, no more than ten at the most. Helen looked so depressed when she looked at them that Nikki put her hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “One at a time, Helen,” she advised quietly. “You can’t save the whole world at once.”
“I can still want to.”
“Well, there’s no law against wanting it all.” Nikki shook her gently for emphases. “I suspect I already taught you that one.”
“You did.” Helen sighed, then smiled and looked at her fondly. “Ready for bed? You need to be up early.”
“So, do you.” Nikki hooked her arm around her waist as they strolled toward the bedroom. “Hey, I had my own list to weed through today. Monica dropped by a list of possible help for the café. With any luck, once I’ve found someone to fit the bill, I’ll be able to start taking Sundays off.”
“Brilliant.” Helen paused in the hall by the bedroom door, turning to kiss her. “That’s the best news I’ve heard today.”
“You have to promise me that you won’t be putting in any overtime at the weekend.” Nikki looked down at her with a stern expression.
Helen made a bit of a face. “What, you think I’d neglect you for this?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
Helen opened her mouth to respond, thought about it, and dipped her head sheepishly. “Maybe. You know me too well, Nikki. I promise. No matter what else happens, Sundays will always be for you and me.”
“I’ll probably need that in writing,” Nikki said.
Helen poked her admonishingly in the side and headed for the ensuite. Nikki laughed and followed her, though she took a bit longer to complete her ablutions, taking a moment to organize the wash baskets for the next day’s laundry. By the time she returned to the bedroom, Helen was already waiting for her, leaning back against the pillows, quilt draped around her hips, leaving much of her torso exposed. For a long moment, Nikki just stopped in the doorway and stared at her. Helen looked so vulnerable and yet wildly sensual at the same time. Nikki was incredibly grateful that she was the one granted the privilege of seeing her in such a state.
Helen looked at her as she always did with those wide green eyes and smiled, a flash of tongue appearing behind her teeth. “What’re you waiting for?” she rumbled in that delightful Scottish accent that turned it into “Wot y’waitin’ for?”
Feeling her nipples harden and the rush of moisture between her legs, Nikki untied her robe and tossed it over a nearby chair. Walking naked and ready to the bed, she slipped between the sheets and onto the warm, rounded curves that welcomed her eagerly.
More than willing to end this day on a properly hopeful note.
A late Saturday night left Trisha and Claire just tipsy enough not to try to drive to either Claire’s flat or to the suburban home Trisha owned. After closing Chix, and bidding the staff farewell, they promptly wrecked the office while shagging on the desk, then on the chair and then up against the wall for a bit. Afterward, they went upstairs to the flat where they wedged themselves into the tiny shower and snogged happily under the hot water. Space constraints prevented them from doing anything more, but they were squeaky clean by the end of it.
Famished in the aftermath, but with nothing of note available in the flat or downstairs in the club, they checked the time and decided to stop by Libertà for breakfast. They weren’t the only ones to make the same choice, but they were the only ones that caused the owner to groan and cover her eyes when she spotted them strolling through the door.
“I thought you had Sundays off now,” Trisha said as she and Claire settled at the table in the corner.
“Still training.” Nikki stood back as a young woman with reddish hair and freckles nervously approached to take their order. She wore a nametag identifying her as ‘Diane’ and looked absolutely scared to death, fingers shaking as she put pen to order pad. Claire wondered what was making her most nervous, that it was her early days on the job or Nikki lingering nearby, keeping an eye on her.
After Diana took their order after many missteps and crossed signals, and walked away, Nikki sighed. “She’ll be okay once she’s conquered her nerves. I hope so anyway. I would like to take a Sunday off at some stage this year.”
“I’m sure the fact you’re hovering around her like a mother hen isn’t helping, ‘Nik,” Trisha said as she leaned back in her chair. Under the table, Clair could feel Trisha’s foot creeping up her leg. She must have slipped off her shoe because when it abruptly wedged itself between Claire’s thighs, Trisha’s toes were easily able to tickle her crotch through her pants. It took all Claire’s courtroom control not to jump out of her seat. “Besides, remember how bad I was when I started at Reflections? I knocked a full pint off the bar and drenched my first customer.”
Nikki grinned wryly. “I remember.” She paused. “I’d have fired you right there if I’d been in charge.”
“Then aren’t we both lucky you weren’t in charge?” Trisha responded quickly, making a face at her as the pair continued in their reminiscing over their employment at the bar where they’d first met and fell in love.
Claire perspired quietly and wondered how Trisha could be manipulating her so nonchalantly without Nikki twigging to what was going on right under her nose. Trying to ignore the maddening sensation, Claire looked around the café, checking out their fellow diners. In addition to the club goers, there were a couple of uniformed police officers sitting in the far corner, enjoying tea and a plateful of pastries. A bit surprised to see them, Claire wondered if they made Nikki or her staff nervous at all, considering they were all ex-cons.
She watched as Kate, the exotic, dark-skinned woman with a beauty that intimidated rather than attracted, refilled the female officer’s cup and laughed in an oddly flirtatious manner at something she said. Cynically, Claire wondered if Kate had an ulterior motive for playing up to the officer’s obvious interest. She could be trying to protect her colleagues, she supposed but from what she knew about Kate’s background, Claire doubted it. Kate was probably just being perverse, either that, or she planned to exploit the officer’s obvious attraction to her as part of a future scam. Then even more cynically, Claire found herself wondering if the policewoman was flirting with Kate because she was fit, because she was an ex-con, or because, in the wake of 9/11, she was clearly of Middle Eastern extraction.
She jumped suddenly as Trisha’s big toe centered on her clit and pressed insistently. Gulping a little, she looked across the table where Trisha returned the look with a lazy half-smile and a lowering of her right eyelid in an almost wink. Shifting deliberately away from the amazingly agile contact, Claire clamped her thighs together, refusing any further advances. Trisha made a show of pouting and then smiled as Diane delivered their orange juice, barely managing not to spill it.
“You keep that up, and I’ll take my breakfast elsewhere,” Claire said in a low voice once Nikki and Diane had left.
Trisha was unimpressed. “You know you love it.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “And you know I could make you come right here if I wanted.”
Claire trembled a little as she entertained the thought. Even after their morning romp, she still wanted her with an ache that permeated every nerve. She had never imagined being as lascivious…so incredibly and unreservedly wanton…as she was with Trisha. There were even times when she was at work that she would flash on their last encounter, and she swore that she could still taste Trisha’s essence on her lips, still smell her musky aroma on her hands. It would make her groin throb in rhythm with her heartbeat, make her so moist that as soon as she could, she would head for the small bathroom off her office and ease the sharp edge of her desire with a hasty and only minimally adequate orgasm. It would be just enough to hold her until the next time she was with her.
So, there was absolutely no doubt in Claire’s mind that if she wanted, Trisha could pretty much make her come anytime and anywhere, including in a crowded café by only using her big toe. What it would do to Claire’s reputation as she dissolved into a weak, quivering mass of screaming female in that event didn’t bear contemplation at all.
“Behave,” she hissed through clenched teeth, drawing out each syllable.
Trisha’s big blue eyes widened innocently as she stared at Claire. “You’re so wet right now,” she said in that low, hypnotic tone, “that if I touched you, my fingers would slip inside you so easily…”
Claire Walker, past Solicitor of the Year and up for the award again this March, whimpered helplessly and wondered if Nikki would object if they borrowed the customer’s toilets for an hour or so.
Trisha smiled knowingly and leaned back in her chair. “Soon,” she promised quietly. “Let’s have breakfast first and then I’ll take care of you properly. We’ll go back to my place.”
Claire swallowed hard and tried not to fidget anxiously as she waited for their omelets to arrive. Trisha’s house was over two thousand square feet, a family home with a front lawn and a back garden, decorated in a suburbanite way that really didn’t suit Trisha’s personality at all. Claire knew it was Nikki who had wanted such a house, with room for animals and perhaps a kid or two in the future. Yet, for whatever reason, Trisha continued to live there, never putting it on the market and never moving back to the more urban surroundings in which she seemed most comfortable.
It baffled Claire, especially since only six months after they bought the house, Nikki was under arrest for murder and Trisha was hopelessly trying to make sense of a world where police officers preyed on the innocent and the woman she loved was being punished for protecting her. In the years after that traumatic event, Trisha had worked hard to come to grips with her psychological scars, while obtaining yet another degree in business administration and turning Chix into the hottest lesbian nightclub in the city. Claire suspected that Nikki had no real idea what it cost Trisha to accomplish all that. That was understandable considering her own tragic set of circumstances, but Claire knew all about it, and it only made her love Trisha more.
And maybe one of these days, Claire might even gather up the courage to tell her.
She ate quickly once Diane finally delivered her meal. Trisha ate more slowly, snickering audibly when Claire finished up and proceeded to sit there, watching her with ill-concealed impatience. With apparent deliberation, Trisha went about ordering another cup of coffee and Claire wondered if she should kill her right now, or wait until after she had spent the afternoon satisfying her and kill her then. She was a solicitor, after all. She knew how to do it and not be caught.
“Claire?”
Claire nearly jumped out of her seat as Nikki leaned over her shoulder. “What is it?” she asked sharply.
Nikki held up her hands defensively, clearly surprised by the edge in her tone. “Helen found out you’re here. She’d like you to go up to the flat and see her before you leave.”
Claire opened her mouth to refuse when Trisha lifted her cup. “Now that’s a good idea, sweetheart. It’s about time you two caught up. I’ll be fine down here with Nikki.”
Trisha grinned imprudently and with an effort, Claire swallowed her aggravation, smiling sweetly at her. “Of course, darling. But listen, if I decide to stay for lunch, you’ll be okay going back to the house and starting without me, won’t you?”
She rose from her chair, leaving Trisha looking as if she’d suddenly tasted a lemon while Nikki appeared completely baffled, her eyes darting back and forth between them. Fuming, Claire exited the café by the door leading to the stairwell and headed upstairs, but by the time she’d reached the third-floor landing, she was laughing at the sheer absurdity of it. In the flat, she greeted Helen with a warm hug and buss on her cheek, feeling in a much better frame of mind than she’d had when leaving the café.
Once settled on the sofa, Helen didn’t waste any time. “Have you talked to Trisha yet about how you feel?”
“I started a few times.” Claire sighed. “But she has this way of looking at me and then the next thing I know, we’re at it like rabbits.” She shivered as she thought about it, and wondered if there was a better example to offer Helen. She suspected at this point, rabbits finished a distant second to her and Trisha.
“Ah, such a rough life.” Helen said without a great deal of sympathy. “You know, you’re both just avoiding the issue.”
Claire shrugged uncomfortably. “Maybe. Or maybe that’s all there is to it for her.”
“Oh, I doubt that. I’ve seen how she looks at you.”
“Really?” Claire hated how eagerly that came out, how needy it sounded, reaching for any reassurance, no matter how small.
Helen’s face softened and she patted her on the arm. “Really,” she told her gently. Then, when Claire glanced at her watch, trying to be unobtrusive as she wondered if she had made Trisha wait long enough, Helen exhaled audibly and rolled her eyes. “What’s the matter? Need your next Trisha fix?”
Claire found that remarkably apt. She did sometimes feel as if she was becoming addicted to Trisha and wondered grimly if she was equally addicted to her. Sometimes it felt like she was. Other times it felt as if Trisha could easily chuck her without a second thought and find herself another bird from the multitude flocking around the nightclub. Claire knew she’d go insane if that happened…if she wasn’t already.
“No,” she lied in an affronted tone. “Did I make fun of you when you and Nikki were together right after her appeal?”
Helen goggled. “All the time,” she reminded her. “You were always taking the piss about how much I missed her when she wasn’t there.”
A sudden rap on the door made them both start, and Helen shot a look at Claire as she got up to answer it. Claire could hear Trisha’s voice in the foyer. “Hiya, Helen. Is Claire ready?”
“From what I hear, Claire’s always ready.”
Claire glared daggers at Helen as she joined them, and then smiled at Trisha. “Hello, darling. Did you manage to catch up with Nikki?”
Trisha nodded, never taking her eyes off her. “Yes, thanks.”
Claire leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, but Trisha moved her head and she impacted on her lips instead. The friendly little greeting immediately turned into something more and it required Helen’s somewhat incredulous clearing of her throat a minute later before they remembered where they were.
Trisha flushed darkly, though she kept her arm firmly around Claire’s waist. “Sorry, Helen. I missed her.”
“Obviously,” Helen said dryly. “You know, Nikki and I weren’t like this.”
Claire snorted. “Are you kidding? You still are. She walks into the room and you light up like a Christmas tree.”
“Yeah, and Nikki still gets this soppy expression whenever she says your name. She was doing it down in the café just now,” Trisha told her seriously. “It was completely disgusting. That’s why I had to leave. I was going to be sick on the floor.”
Now it was Helen’s turn to blush, though it was clearly in pleasure, her cheeks pinking visibly. “You know Nikki, she’s the queen of soppy.”
“We know,” Claire and Trisha said together and then laughed as they looked at each other. Helen just rolled her eyes. “Well, we really should be on our way, Helen. Call me.”
“I will. You call me, too.” Helen met Claire’s gaze with a particularly intent look. “Let me know how it’s going.”
They managed to make it down to the second-floor landing before Trisha had Claire up against the wall to provide her with the orgasm she’d promised earlier in the café. After all, it was a considerable drive to Trisha’s house, and it had been at least two hours since her last one.
Claire thoroughly appreciated the courtesy.
Her name was Lydia Wallace.
Helen read through the file again, pleased to have finally settled on a suitable candidate. Although a university graduate, with a degree in anthropology, Lydia was apparently a lot less knowledgeable when it came to choosing a husband. On their tenth anniversary, she removed a shotgun from her husband’s gun cabinet, calmly walked upstairs to the second floor of their Surrey mansion and blew his brains out all over the headboard of their bed. At the trial, Lydia’s barrister had presented a history of domestic violence and long-term emotional abuse, but the husband in question had been a well-respected banker with decades of charitable deeds behind him. The Crown had been spoilt for choice when it came to finding eloquent and well-to-do witnesses who were prepared to refute her claims.
The Crown’s case had hinged on how calmly she had committed the crime. But where the prosecuting QC managed to make the jury see cold calculation, Helen recognized numb desperation. What they had come to believe was the detached snobbishness of a socialite in the dock, Helen saw the overwhelming and paralyzing fear of someone who wasn’t quite sure how all her choices in life had come down to such a horrific end.
Now six years into a life sentence, Lydia’s case had long since faded from the public eye. Her friends and family had moved on and any chance of appealing against her murder conviction had been scuppered by a lack of evidence. It would take a huge amount of dedication to bring about a reversal of what Helen couldn’t help viewing as a blatant miscarriage of justice, but Helen felt more than up for it.
And Claire would love the case, Helen thought. If she could only pry her off Trisha long enough to look at it.
Honestly, she was the first to admit she was completely besotted with Nikki, and Nikki with her, but Claire and Trisha were beyond reason at this point. They couldn’t even be in the same room for five minutes before having to excuse themselves and go off somewhere to, presumably, enjoy a quick shag. Helen was starting to worry a bit about them, if not for what seemed a powerful physical dependence on each other, then for the fact that they were quite literally going to kill themselves through sheer exhaustion if they didn’t slow down.
And it was so obvious what was really going on. Neither woman wanted to be the first to say, “I love you”, terrified that the other wouldn’t say it back. The moment either of them looked on the verge of making any kind of pronouncement, the other would promptly initiate sex in the hopes of forestalling what each feared would be a breakup. It was painful to watch, but neither Nikki nor Helen could convince Trisha or Claire that taking a chance on admitting their true feelings was better than living in this state of perpetual horny ignorance.
Helen was beginning to think an intervention was necessary. Just bring everyone together and lay all the cards on the table. Claire and Trisha obviously loved each other, and it was a true love, born of really getting to know each other before ever falling into bed. The great, mind-numbing, toe-curling sex was just clouding the issue at this point.
She made a notation in the file, closed it, and slipped it into her briefcase, but only for the time being. Thursday, she’d make a visit to Holloway and meet Lydia. She needed to see if she was open to the idea of Helen taking on her case, because as Nikki said, if she didn’t want to be saved, then nothing Helen could do would make a difference.
Having a few minutes to kill before lunch, Helen picked up the newspaper, leaning back in her chair to enjoy the front-page coverage of the inmate protest at Larkhall and the ensuing announcement by Linford Securities, in which they’d retracted their bid to privatize the prison. She couldn’t believe they’d even tried such a thing. The previous evening, she and Nikki had watched the news coverage on television, with Nikki providing a passionate and wickedly sarcastic commentary on the whole situation. Helen could tell that had she still been incarcerated, Nikki would have been right there on the front lines with the rest of the women, taking Christopher Biggins hostage and fervently protesting the whole, rotten system. Nikki’s fiery attitude had been incredibly stimulating, and as soon as she could, Helen dragged her off to bed, anxious to channel all that frustrated activist energy into something that would be of benefit to them both. It had been a very late night, but an exceptionally pleasant one.
Her phone buzzed with the short ring indicating an internal communication, and she glanced at the display, noting that it was Della’s extension. Stifling a yawn, she picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
“Helen, could you pop along to my office? There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
“I’ll be right in.”
Helen smiled briefly at Sarah as her route to Della’s office took her past the receptionist’s desk. There was a man sitting in the chair, one that turned and rose from his seat as Helen entered, his lanky frame and hangdog features instantly recognizable.
“Helen Stewart, this is Dr. Waugh from the Fossmore Psychiatric Facility.”
“Thomas?”
“Helen?”
Della sighed. “I always seem to be introducing you to people you already know, don’t I?”
“What are you doing here?” Thomas asked, tilting his head. His expression was undecipherable and Helen couldn’t tell if he was happy to see her or wishing he was elsewhere.
“I work for the Unit now,” Helen said, shaking his hand and trying not to look as disconcerted as she felt. The last time she had seen him, he was dumping her rather inelegantly in a restaurant after pointing out that while it was bad enough that she had kept her relationship with Nikki Wade a secret from him, she was only compounding the error by lying to herself about her true feelings for another woman. He’d been completely correct, of course, but that didn’t make this encounter any less awkward. “What brings you here?”
He sighed and settled back into his chair. At Della’s nod, Helen took the other and accepted a folder that she handed to her. Flipping it open, her eyebrows rose as she saw what it contained. “Shell Dockley?”
“Let me guess, you know her, as well.” Della looked as if she was developing a headache, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips.
“Larkhall has a long reach,” Helen said dryly. “Dr. Waugh was the SMO while I was acting Number One. Shell was incarcerated on G-wing where I served as wing governor.” She didn’t add that she and the good doctor had briefly shared a romantic relationship. That would only confuse the issue greatly. Della was still getting used to the idea of Helen being involved with an ex-convict. She glanced over at Thomas. “So, you’re working at Fossmore now? What’s Shell got to do with this?”
“She was transferred to my ward a month ago,” Thomas explained. “Someone else handled her admittance and it took me a week before I had my initial interview with her. But I could tell right away that although she may have some emotional and personal problems, there’s absolutely no reason for her to be locked up in a secure psychiatric hospital. I checked out the paperwork, and while it looks a bit dodgy, there’s nothing that I can actually lay a finger on.”
“That sounds like Fenner’s M.O.,” she muttered as she scanned the file.
“Maybe, but it was signed by Neil Grayling so while it might be Fenner’s doing, there’s nothing that can be traced back to him.”
“Definitely Jim Fenner’s handiwork.” Helen felt her jaw tighten.
Della, glancing back and forth between them, let out her breath in a huff. “Who’s Jim Fenner?”
Helen shook her head. “Oh, God, Della, that would take too long to explain, and I’d need several drinks while I was doing it. Ask me about him again on the next work’s do.” She put down the folder and looked inquiringly at her. “How are we involved with this?”
“Dr. Waugh heard that there were specialized outreach programs being developed for those individual prisoners who fall through the cracks. He seems to think that this Shell Dockley could be a candidate.”
Thomas leaned over in his chair. “Helen, Fossmore is for the most extreme cases of criminal psychosis. Shell needs to be placed back into a regular prison, and it can’t be Larkhall. Unfortunately, it requires more than just my recommendation. It needs an independent review. That’s where you come in.” Thomas offered her a smile. “Honestly, if I’d known you oversaw these programs, I’d have been here the day after I first interviewed her.”
“It sounds like a reasonable request, Helen,” Della said. “And exactly what you’ve been asking for, more hands-on interaction with the prisoners.”
Helen blinked. Hands on with Shell Dockley? “Uh, I don’t think—” she began.
But Della had already extended her hand to Thomas and was shaking it firmly. “Thank you very much for bringing this to our attention, Dr. Waugh. I’m sure you and Helen will work well together on this project.”
Before Helen quite knew what was happening, she was standing outside Della’s office with Thomas, trying to get her head around it all. Thomas, oblivious to Helen’s bemusement, took her by the arm.
“Walk me out, Helen.”
Still stunned, Helen accompanied Thomas down the corridor leading to the lifts. He looked over at her with a slight smile as they waited by the elevator doors. “It’s really good to see you again, Helen.”
“It’s good to see you, too,” she replied automatically.
“So, are you seeing anyone now?”
Abruptly, Helen lifted her head and looked at him. He was regarding her with an odd sort of expression in his dark eyes and she immediately held up her hand to stop him from going any further. “Actually, I took your advice.”
“My advice?”
“To stop lying to myself about Nikki Wade.” Helen smiled briefly and shrugged a bit. “She was freed on appeal and we’ve been together ever since.”
“Oh.” He looked a little taken aback but nodded after only a few seconds. “That’s great. I’m glad it worked out for you.” He almost managed to sound as if he meant it so she gave him credit for trying.
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry I hurt you, Thomas. It wasn’t what I intended,” Helen said. Putting her hand on his forearm, she looked up into his craggy features, trying to remember what it was that had so attracted her and completely unable to find it. “For what it’s worth, I was extremely confused about my feelings back then. You really did help clarify things. I owe you for that.”
He shook his head and took her hand, squeezing lightly. “You don’t owe me anything, Helen. Nikki’s a lucky woman.” This time, it really did seem as if he meant it and she smiled warmly at him. “Will our working together be a problem?”
“Not on my end.” Helen didn’t imagine Nikki would be very pleased about any of it, either with Helen trying to help Shell Dockley or having to work side-by-side with Thomas Waugh, but it didn’t seem as if there was much she could do about it. It was clear Della wanted her to take this case and it was in her best interests to go along with it if she wanted to get the rest of her programs off the ground. She’d just have to explain it as best she could and hope Nikki understood. “You?”
“I’m fine. So where do we start?” He pressed the button to the lift.
“I’m only available for this two days a week, so if you could arrange an interview for me with Shell on Thursday, that will allow me to set up the ground work.” She paused. “Are you sure about this, Thomas? She really doesn’t belong there?”
“She isn’t insane. She’s furious, and distraught about losing her child---“
“Oh, my God, she lost the baby?!?” Helen stared at him in horror and he held up his hands to slow her down.
“Not like that, Helen. Apparently, he was born without complications, but the reason she was sent to Fossmore was an accusation that she’d tried to smother the child. She claims it’s a complete fabrication and she told me a few other things that leads me to believe it was nothing more than an attempt to get her out of Larkhall because she was making things uncomfortable for certain prison officials looking at an impending privatization.”
“That sounds like Dockley, all right. It also sounds like Larkhall. Where’s the child now?”
“In care, I assume.” Thomas glanced over as the lift doors opened. “It’s all in the file, Helen. I’ll call you with the time for your appointment with Shell.”
“Cheers, Thomas. I’ll see you, Thursday.”
Helen stared at the lift doors long after they closed, wondering how she became involved with these messes and how big a problem it would before it was all over. In any event, Helen wouldn’t be able to start on her other case for a while. She supposed that it wouldn’t hurt in the long run.
After all, it wasn’t as if Lydia Wallace was going anywhere.
Nikki was knackered through and through.
Diane was turning out to be possibly the clumsiest waitress she’d ever seen and it wasn’t getting any better. Even Jenna had started to poke fun at her and no one had smashed more glasses and plates than she had her first couple of weeks. Nikki had used every trick up her sleeve to soothe the young woman’s nerves, though it was beginning to dawn on her that she might have made a big mistake in choosing Diane from the list Monica had given her. At the time, she’d seemed like the best of a bad bunch.
Nikki felt things pressing in on her. She hadn’t had a day off in almost a year, and if she had to start all over again training a new employee, she couldn’t expect to see any in the immediate future. Then there was another small chip-pan fire in the kitchen, Pam was in a dark mood, and Kate was so obviously up to something involving PC Leedham that by the time Nikki trudged upstairs, her head was banging like a drum. A quick shower didn’t help and when Helen came home, the first thing she did was share all her lovely news about helping Shell Dockley and working with the psychologist assigned to the case; Dr. Thomas Waugh of all bloody people. Nikki couldn’t help it. Her mouth got the better of her, with sarcastic, biting remarks provoking even stronger words from Helen, fueled by that fiery Scottish temper, until finally, Nikki just threw up her hands.
“That’s it. I’m done!”
She stormed out, not really knowing where she was headed, only that she needed to breathe. God, it felt as if she couldn’t breathe anymore. Her feet carried her unerringly to Chix where the bar was thronged with lesbians out for a sports night. Angrily, she shoved her way through the crowd, searching for Trisha.
The head bar manager, Carol caught her eye and Nikki leaned over the counter. “Where’s Trish?” she yelled.
“She’s in the back. But Nikki, you might want to wait. She’s not alone—”
But Nikki didn’t listen, striding around the bar and throwing open the office door to discover Trisha and Claire in a compromising position. Nikki stopped dead and just stared. It was more than just a compromising position. It was practically an impossible position.
“Christ, how the hell are you doing that?”
“Nikki!” Trisha was outraged and Claire flushed pink from head to toe, scrambling off the desk to hide her nakedness behind it. “Ever heard of knocking? And for fuck’s sakes, shut the door!”
Nikki blinked and glanced over her shoulder at the variety of patrons and staff members who were peering over the bar into the office with complete fascination. Rolling her eyes, Nikki slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Staring at the ceiling, she waited impatiently as Trisha helped Claire gather up her clothes.
She frowned. “Why is there a shoe stuck in the ceiling?”
“Uh, that’s mine,” Claire said in a low voice as she buttoned up her blouse. “I kicked it off and it must have caught in the ceiling tile.”
“Don’t explain anything to her,” Trisha snapped. “She has no right bursting in here like that.”
“Excuse me, but I was under the impression that I still own half of this place,” Nikki said acidly. “And like it or not, this is a nightclub, not a bloody knocking shop.”
Furious, Trisha came around the desk, oblivious to the fact her shirt hung open, her bra no longer contained her breasts and her jeans were still unbuttoned and unzipped. “Listen, just because you—”
“Why can’t you have some bloody decorum—” Nikki began at the same time.
“ENOUGH!”
Startled into silence, both Trisha and Nikki looked over at Claire who was once more fully dressed, less a shoe, with her hair pulled back off her face and an expression that very few people cared to argue with…certainly not her girlfriend or her former client.
“Nikki, why are you here? Is Helen all right?” Her calm, reasonable tone served to cool Nikki’s temper considerably. After all, it wasn’t either Trisha or Claire she was angry with.
“Helen-bloody-Stewart is just fine,” she muttered and slammed herself down in the chair. “Whatever she does is just fine and I’m the one who’s always wrong. What else is bloody new?”
“From that I gather you two have had a row?”
Nikki shot her a surly look. “Do you always have to talk like a solicitor? I bet you even come like one.”
“If you’d had the decency to wait at least thirty more seconds, you’d have found out,” Claire returned icily.
Trisha, who had been standing stiffly by the desk, fists clenched angrily, abruptly snorted and relaxed. Nonchalantly, she fastened her jeans, rearranged her bra and started to button up her shirt.
Nikki hung her head guiltily. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I should have knocked when I heard you weren’t alone. I was out of line.”
“Yeah, you were,” Trisha said, but she also looked a bit embarrassed now that cooler heads had prevailed. “I thought we locked the door. I should’ve taken a few extra seconds to make sure.”
“Next time.” Claire glanced at her and smiled slyly, perching her hip on the corner of the desk. Trisha smiled back and waggled her eyebrows.
“Christ.” Nikki groaned and buried her face in her hands.
“Sorry, Nikki.” Claire glanced up. “Darling, could you?”
Trisha followed her gaze and laughed. “No problem.” Rolling the office chair into position underneath it, she stood up on it to retrieve Claire’s shoe, requiring a bit of effort to pull it from the soundproofing foam tile. “So, what’s going on, ‘Nik?” she asked casually as she yanked at the uncooperative pump.
Taking a deep breath, Nikki explained about Helen and her new case with Shell Dockley and having to work with, of all people, Thomas Waugh, and before she knew it, it was all coming out about stupid waitresses and busy cafes and having to work every bloody day while getting up before the bloody crack of dawn. By the time she had finished, tears burned the back of her eyes and her voice was choked. Dimly, she was aware of Claire and Trisha exchanging glances before Trisha gave a little nod and Claire put on her other shoe.
“I’ll go see to Helen. Good luck, darling.”
“You, too, babes.”
Nikki watched her go and then glared at Trisha. “What the hell did she mean, ‘good luck’?”
“Well, you’re stroppy, and Helen’s probably in tears, and frankly, I’d rather be doing what I was doing when you so rudely interrupted rather than trying to talk some sense into you, but here we all are so let’s get to it.”
“Sense into me?” Nikki repeated incredulously. “So, you think I’m wrong, too.”
“No, I’d say it’s probably half you and half Helen, as per usual. But when you’re like this, you need someone objective to explain things to you.”
“Explain what?”
“That, in my experience, you tend to turn into Satan when you’re overtired. Look at you; you’re dead on your feet. Helen probably should have waited until after you had a good night’s sleep before breaking the bad news. Either that or shag you silly and then tell you. That’s how I always did it.” Outraged, Nikki stared at her and Trisha shrugged. “Isn’t that why you want me as your best mate? Because I’ve been where Helen is and can explain it to you when you’re being stupid?”
“Whether I’m tired or not doesn’t change what Helen’s doing.”
“Really Nikki, what is she doing? So, you don’t like this Shell woman. Get over it. You can’t expect Helen to do her job according to whether you like a person or not. Plus, it sounds to me like she had no choice in the matter. She took the case on because her boss told her to, not because she was making a conscious effort to piss you off. What do you want her to do? Tell her boss to sod off? Walk out, like she did at Larkhall?”
“Damn it, Trish---“
“And so, she has to work with someone she once had a fling with. Jesus, Nikki, who are you talking to right now? Someone you shagged for nine bloody years!”
“Seven,” Nikki corrected automatically. “I was banged up the other two.”
“Fine, seven. But the point is, you’d hit the roof if she ever told you to stay away from me. Do you really expect her to put up with you telling her how to do her job? I mean, would you put up with her telling you who you should and shouldn’t employ at the café?”
Nikki absorbed everything Trisha said, not liking how it was said but forced to acknowledge the veracity of it. “Shit.”
“Yeah, it is. So, do you want to get pissed and cry on my shoulder all night, or are you going to go home and make up with her?”
Nikki stared at the floor. “Home,” she mumbled.
“Thank God.” Trisha’s relief was readily evident. “Send Claire back, will you? I’ll have to spend the rest of the evening making it up to her, too.”
“Making up for what?”
“You being my friend. Helen never would have barged in on us like that. She’d have knocked first.”
Sheepishly, Nikki left Chix and went back to the flat where Claire greeted her with a small smile and made a quick exit. Helen came out of the ensuite where she’d obviously been washing away the tearstains, her eyes still red and swollen.
“Thought you were done with me.”
“I was done with the fight,” Nikki said sullenly. “I’ll never be done with you, apparently.”
Helen’s face softened and she hung her head. “Claire read me the riot act,” she muttered shamefully. “She was right. I never ask you about your day, I just come home and whinge about mine every time, whether you’re in the mood to hear about it or not. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too. You can’t help what your boss wants you to do.” Nikki swallowed hard, wanting to burst into tears and forcing them back.
Helen took a step towards her, hesitated, and then when Nikki reciprocated with her own aborted motion, came the rest of the way into her arms. Wrapping her up in an aching embrace, Nikki buried her face into her hair. “It’s just …” she trailed off, not knowing how to say it.
“What? What is it?”
“I want to leave it behind. Larkhall and everything, just put it all in the past,” Nikki said brokenly. “Instead, it feels like we’re being dragged back down into the shit. Like we’ll never be free of it.”
Helen’s breath caught and she hugged her tighter. “I never thought about it like that, but I can see how you could feel that way.” Her voice shook. “I work for the Home Office, Nikki and I can’t…I don’t want to give that up. The prison service in London is like a small community and I’m going to keep running into people I know…that you know…from our time in Larkhall. It’s inevitable. But it’s just my work, sweetheart; it has nothing to do with you. You don’t have to be involved at all.”
“If you’re involved, I’m involved. That’s what it means, us being partners.”
Helen didn’t have an immediate answer for that. She just continued to hold Nikki as close as she could, the two trying to reconcile what was becoming a bigger problem than either of them expected.
“What do you want to do?” Helen asked finally, in a quiet, resigned tone that indicated she had made a decision in the last few moments. “Do you want me to leave the Unit? Shall we chuck it all and go off somewhere warm? Figure out what to do from there?”
Nikki knew immediately that Helen had just now considered the possibility and was quite prepared to go ahead with it, just for her sake. She immediately started bawling like a baby as all the day’s stresses and emotions came out in a rush that she couldn’t control. Helen hugged her tightly, patting her back and murmuring words of encouragement and comfort, assuring her that she was the most important person in the world to her and nothing came before that, not even her career.
“No,” Nikki managed, after finally getting a grip on her sobs. “I don’t want you to quit.” But such an extreme solution had granted her some badly needed perspective. “It’s just been a bad day, Helen. I suppose all we can do is try to figure out how to make it all a bit easier.”
“Where would you like to start?” Helen asked softly.
“I’m going to have a good think about Diane, work out why she’s so nervous all of the time.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you think she might be a wee bit scared of you?” Helen offered carefully. “I’ve seen you with her, Nikki. I know you’re only trying to help, but sometimes it looks to me like you’re hovering around her and expecting her to fuck up. Don’t forget, you’re her boss.”
“Yeah, a pretty terrifying one from the sounds of it.”
“It’s not that…it’s just…” Helen sighed. “Nikki, Diane was released from prison not that long ago. She’s still in that mindset, and bound to feel intimidated by a former lifer.”
Nikki groaned. “Shit. I never thought of that.”
“Here’s an idea. Why don’t you ask Jenna to take over her training?”
“Jenna?”
“Yes, they’re closer in age and Jenna’s a lot less intimidating than you or even Kate might be.”
“That’s not half bad,” Nikki said slowly, liking the idea. “In fact, it might even turn into a case of killing two birds with one stone. The extra responsibility could actually do Jenna some good.”
“It might.” Helen looked up at her with serious eyes. “Nikki, I don’t really want to pursue this case with Shell any more than you want me to, but it needs to be done. I’ll be as expeditious as possible while handling it.”
Nikki winced, feeling ashamed of her stroppiness. “You have to do what needs to be done, Helen and take the time to do it right. Even Shell deserves that much.” Helen nodded, looking relieved. “But if you and Waugh ever have to work late?”
“Yeah?”
“You come here. You don’t ever stay at the office or go over to his place.”
She half expected Helen to balk against such an unreasonable request but she didn’t. Instead, she hugged her tighter and kissed her, mouth loving and warm against her lips. “I promise, sweetheart,” she said quietly.
And Nikki burst into tears all over again.
Fossmore was incredibly clean, with many pastel colors and soothing shades to the functionally shaped furniture that boasted round edges and soft corners, nothing that could be used to hurt either one’s self or anyone else. Helen felt the muscles across her shoulders tighten as she handed over everything she possessed to the guards at the front desk. Only Shell’s file was returned to her, and then, only after it had been thoroughly checked. She glanced up and saw Thomas waiting for her at the end of the corridor. He lifted his hand in greeting when he saw her eyes on him.
“You managed to find us okay then?”
“I got a bit confused by the one-way system back there, but apart from that, yes.”
Covering almost an acre, Fossmore was built more in line with a prison than a hospital, with a high fence surrounding the grounds that Helen suspected was electrified, topped with barbed wire. There was more security present at first glance than there had ever been at Larkhall. No so surprising, she realized, when one considered the extremely dangerous and insane individuals locked up in its confines.
“The roads must be really bad.” Outside, a late winter storm raged, an unpleasant combination of freezing rain and snow that made the roads slick and visibility poor.
“They’re getting there.” Helen responded shortly. She’d worry about driving home when it was time to leave. For now, she was concerned about her upcoming interview.
As they walked down the hallway, the carpet muted the sound of their footsteps. Thomas paused before a plain, metal door. “I’ll have Shell brought to you. A guard will have to be present at all times. It’s policy.”
“I understand.”
Helen entered the room, faltering slightly as she did. It was painted a harsh white and the floor was polished tile, checkered black and white. There was a single chrome and white table in the center of the space, with two chairs, simple and completely unadorned, on either side of it. Everything was securely bolted to the floor. The decor was particularly jarring after the soothing palette of the corridors that led to the room. Though the temperature was comfortable, Helen shivered a bit as she took a seat and placed the folder on the table. Glancing around, she thought that it was little wonder the inmates were disturbed. It gave her the creeps just sitting there and the sudden sound of the key being turned in the door made her jump.
Shell Dockley walked in, filling the room with her manic personality. Dressed in a white gown, her blonde hair awry around her puffy features, she smiled widely when she saw her visitor.
“Miss Stewart! The doc told me you’d be coming.” She plopped down in the chair, looking around the stark room with a mild curiosity. “Oi, need some decorators in here, don’t they?”
“It certainly wouldn’t hurt,” Helen agreed. She opened the file and nodded at the guard to stand back by the door, far enough away so that they could converse in relative privacy. “I’m working with the Home Office Rehabilitation Unit, and Dr. Waugh asked us to consider your case, to determine how you ended up in here and what can be done if, in fact, you don’t deserve to be here.”
“It’s all Fenner’s doing, innit?” Shell said immediately, leaning forward. “How else do you think I ended up here? Had me doing hand-jobs to his screw mates for a tenner apiece and when I refused to do it anymore, he had me shipped here to the muppet mansion.”
“Yes, your claims are on file, but unfortunately there’s no proof.”
“There’s my word,” Shell said indignantly.
“Which, thanks to so many previous incidents when you’ve changed your mind and gone back on it, means absolutely nothing at this point,” Helen reminded her acidly.
Offended, Shell slumped back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Got a fag?”
“There’s no smoking in here.”
“You ain’t changed a bit, have you Miss? Still got that stick rammed up your arse.”
Helen offered her a quelling look. “I’m not sure how wise it is to be insulting one of the very few people trying to help you, Shell.”
Shell blinked, immediately alarmed and held out a placating hand. “I was just ‘avin you on, Miss. Not much fun to be had in ‘ere, is there?”
“No, I don’t imagine there is,” Helen allowed.
She forced herself to take a moment. Shell was completely on edge, already sparks and random motion, not seeming to know what to do with her hands. If she wasn’t justifiably psychotic before being sent here, Helen suspected it wouldn’t be long before she was. The place just had that way of working on a person’s stability. She needed Shell steady enough to be able to answer questions.
“I understand you named your baby Ronan Beckham,” she said, changing the subject to something she hoped would be more pleasant. She glanced up just in time to see Shell’s face transform, becoming softer and more maternal than she ever thought she’d see out of her. Tears appeared in her eyes.
“They took ‘im off me, Miss. Said I tried to smother him. It’s bollocks. I’d never do that. He’s my boy, ain’t he? I’d never hurt him.”
“I know, Shell,” Helen said, keeping her voice composed and soothing. “I’ve checked and I want you to know that he’s being cared for. He’s quite happy and healthy.”
Shell peered at her anxiously, and then seemed to accept her word. “Right, then.” Her insolent manner was back in an instant. “He was in such a hurry to come out, I didn’t even have a chance to get up to the mums and bums. Had him right there in the friggin’ cell. Miss Barker was there n’all. Poor little sod. Imagine coming out into the world and copping an eyeful of that ugly mug.”
“If you’d been in the MBU, PO Hedges wouldn’t have been able to visit you.”
“Evil twat.” Shell’s features darkened, her mouth twisting into an ugly line. “He’s worse than Fenner. Makes like he’s decent, but when it comes down to it, he’s just another wanker. At least Fenner was up front about being a bastard.” She paused, breathing heavily and then calmed a little. “What’s going to happen to Ronan?”
Helen handled this carefully. “That has yet to be determined.” She didn’t want to give Shell the wrong idea about his probable fate, but she didn’t want Shell to be forced to deal with the knowledge that she’d probably never get him back either. Not yet, at any rate. “I understand his father is a diplomat named Jeremy Pugh.”
Shell made a dismissive face. “Naw, it were Pedro, weren’t it?”
“Pedro?” Helen repeated, lifting her brows.
“Knew it as soon as I saw Ronan’s little face.” Shell looked vaguely irritated at the memory. “Here’s me hoping his dad was gonna be someone high up in the British Embassy. But instead, he turns out to be a dishwasher from Fuengirola. It was a one-night-stand n’all. What are the chances of that?”
Knowing Shell, good indeed, Helen thought sardonically. If it wasn’t for bad luck, it was unlikely Dockley would have any at all. “So, this Pedro, would he be trying for custody?”
“He doesn’t even know about ‘im. Why would he?”
“I don’t know,” Helen said, taking a breath and feeling the first tendrils of a headache feather through her temples. “What about Mr. Pugh? Considering he thought the baby was his and actually worked to have you transferred back to the U.K.---”
“Sneaky bastard. Just goes to show that you should never trust a punter. I was living it up in that Dutch nick until he stuck his oar in. You wouldn’t believe how cushy it is over there. They’ve got screws who say please and thank you and everything.”
Helen ignored the interruption and continued gamely. “Do you think he’ll try for custody of Ronan?”
“Yeah, right, like he’s gonna want some dago carrying on the family name.” Shell paused and leaned closer, eyebrow raised inquiringly. “Ere, you don’t reckon I could spin him some line about being part Spanish on me mum’s side, do you?”
“I shouldn’t think so.” Helen rubbed between her brows with a forefinger. “Shell, before we can even think about your child, we need to get you out of here and back into a regular prison.”
“What, Larkhall?”
“No, that’s the last place you should be, considering your history. I’m going to try to have you transferred to Holloway.”
“Holloway Castle?” Shell’s eyes widened. “Where they banged up that evil witch, Myra?” She was referring to Myra Hindley, the Moors murderess who had participated in the abduction, torture and slaughter of five children, along with her partner, serial killer Ian Brady. “I’ll teach her to kill kiddies.”
“I’m afraid you won’t get the chance. She’s in Kent, now,” Helen said dryly.
“Well, she’d be a dried up old wrinkly now, ain’t she? Probably ain’t worth getting sent down the block for.”
Helen felt she was rapidly losing control of this conversation and with an effort, she dragged it back on track. “You need to cooperate fully with Dr. Waugh. His report will be very important in determining that you don’t belong here.”
“He’s a bit of alright, ain’t he?” Shell leered happily. “I’d never have a problem cooperating with him.”
“Shell!” Helen heard her voice rise into the upper registers, and with an effort she toned it down. “It’s going to be difficult enough to prove your claims, the last thing we need is for you to start sexually harassing your psychiatrist.”
Shell looked briefly rebellious, but then smiled sweetly. “I was only kidding, Miss. Don’t worry about me, I know how to play the game.”
“Good.” That was about the most she could do for Thomas, Helen decided. The rest of it, including any untoward sexual advances, would have to be his problem. “In the meantime, I’ll get started on the paperwork.”
“How long is that going to take?”
“I don’t know,” Helen replied honestly. “I’ve never tried to spring anyone out of a secure psychiatric facility before. I’ll need time just to wade through all the red tape.”
Shell abruptly looked a little panicked. “You’ve got to get me out of here, Miss. It’s worse than the muppet wing back at Larkhall. They’re all nutters. If I’m stuck here for much longer, I’ll turn into one, too.”
“I understand, Shell, but all you can do is be cooperative and keep your head down. And for God’s sakes, keep it shut, even if someone says something.” Helen didn’t want to think of the irony of giving Shell the same advice that she’d given Nikki a few years earlier.
Almost as if Shell was reading her mind, she leaned forward. “I know you can get me out, Miss Stewart,” she said intently. “You got Nikki Wade out, didn’t you? I heard she’d won her appeal. She’s out shagging birds right now ‘cause of you.”
Helen was very conscious of Nikki’s advice from the night before, as they lay snuggled up in their bed, talking quietly in the darkness.
“Don’t tell her about us, Helen. Don’t even hint that we see each other now. She’ll find a way to use it against you, even if it scuppers her case in the process. She’s like a child. She doesn’t stop to think. She’s malicious just for the sake of it.”
Helen had assured Nikki that she understood her warning and completely agreed with it. Lifting her eyes, she met Shell’s gaze squarely. “Wade’s case was completely different. Once I’d put the appeal process in motion, it was out of my hands and up to her and her solicitor to make it work.”
“So, you can do the same for me.”
“I’m going to do my best, Shell. But let’s be clear here, I’m not trying to get you out of prison, just out of Fossmore. You still have to serve out your sentence.”
Shell grinned crookedly. “You just get me out of here and into Holloway, Miss Stewart and I’ll find myself a nice lezzie governor to fall in love with me. She’ll do the rest.”
Helen stared at her, appalled, and then belatedly realized Shell was still referring to Hindley. In 1973, Patricia Cairns, an ex-nun turned prison officer who purportedly fell in love with Myra, and tried to help her in an unsuccessful escape attempt.
“Myra didn’t make it over the wall,” Helen managed, her voice even despite her heart suddenly jumping about in her chest. “That’s why she’s in Cookham Wood now rather than Holloway.” She frowned at her. “And it’s probably not a very good idea to talk about formulating future escape attempts with an employee of the Home Office, particularly in the presence of witnesses.”
Shell lifted her brows as she glanced over at the guard, a solidly built individual dressed all in white, with a military haircut and square-jawed features. “Just ‘avin a bit of fun, ain’t I? Same as before,” she called to him. His impassive face didn’t so much as twitch at Shell’s comment. He might as well have been a statue.
Helen sighed. Shell didn’t look particularly repentant, but when Helen nodded at the guard that they were finished for the day, her face fell a little.
“You won’t give on me, Miss, will you?” she pleaded as the guard came to collect her, standing next to the chair as he waited for her to get up. She looked beseechingly at Helen. “You’ll keep trying?”
“I don’t give up easily, Shell,” Helen told her seriously. She didn’t add that all Shell had to do was ask Nikki Wade about that.
Nikki stood in front of the windows looking out over the street with an anxiety that was beginning to border on actual concern. A nasty mix of freezing rain and snow slammed against the glass, driven by a stiff wind blowing from the west. Helen had yet to arrive home and while Nikki wasn’t sure what watching for her in the dark would accomplish, she couldn’t seem to tear herself away. There was little traffic below, and no pedestrians to speak of. Though Thursday was a popular night at Chix, hosting a Retro theme, she doubted there’d be many customers. She wondered if Trisha would even bother to open and she made a mental note to call her later to find out what she was up to and exactly where she was.
Finally, she saw a familiar pair of headlights creep cautiously down the street, turning off at the car park. Immediately she turned and dashed out of the flat, clattering down the stairs as fast as she could. On the main landing, she opened the door a crack, peering up the pavement as the wind whistled through the opening and made the door shudder in her hands. She literally had to brace her feet, tightening her hold on the handle so that it wouldn’t slip her grip and slam her against the wall.
A diminutive figure appeared up the street, leaning into the wind, and trying to shield her face from the stinging precipitation with her briefcase. Nikki waited until she was almost there and opened the door wide. “Quickly, get yourself in here.”
Helen looked up, and skated the last few steps into the shelter of the entrance as Nikki needed a bit of muscle to push the door closed. “Thanks, sweetheart. I think my keycard is somewhere at the bottom of my briefcase.”
“Bloody awful weather,” Nikki said, putting a hand on Helen’s back to guide her toward the stairs. She frowned when her palm contacted the sodden material. The stylish coat Helen had donned that morning wouldn’t keep a penguin warm in these elements. “Look at the state of you, you’re saturated. Get yourself upstairs and I’ll make you a hot toddy to warm you up.”
Helen paused on the second-floor landing, turning back to kiss Nikki. Her lips were cold, her face and hair damp from the storm. “Have I told you how much I love coming home to you,” she murmured.
“Frequently,” Nikki told her and gave her a gentle shove up the stairs. “Go on, now, Helen, you’re freezing.”
“Christ, the roads are a nightmare,” Helen said as she resumed her climb.
“I was starting to worry,” Nikki admitted as they entered the flat. She headed straight for the kitchen and switched on the kettle. “Did you make it out to Fossmore this afternoon?”
Helen slipped out of her coat, hanging it in the foyer closet before grabbing a towel from the powder room to dry her hair. “Yeah, I did,” she said as she came into the kitchen, rubbing at her head briskly. “Shell was her usual, charming self.”
“Let me guess,” Nikki said as she combined the ingredients of hot water, rum, sugar, butter and cinnamon into a mug, “Sickly sweet, pleading innocence one minute, and flip cracks the next. Waugh wants to watch out she doesn’t make a play for him. You know what Shell’s like, always with an eye on the main chance.”
“God, that’s exactly what she threatened to do,” Helen marveled as she sat down on a stool at the breakfast bar.
Nikki handed her the toddy. “You warned her off, of course.”
“I had to. She’d eat him alive.” Helen cupped her hands around the mug, warming them as she breathed in the steam rising from it.
Nikki frowned as she looked at her, realizing she must be thoroughly chilled. Quickly, she went into the living room and retrieved the blanket lying over the settee. Carrying it back out to the kitchen, Nikki threw it around Helen and wrapped her arms around her, pressing her body against her back to provide as much heat as she possibly could. Helen made a soft sound of pleasure and snuggled back into the embrace, turning her head to press her temple against Nikki’s lips. Exhaling audibly, she completely relaxed, surrendering to the warmth of Nikki’s arms.
“I can’t imagine a better place to be than right here,” she murmured.
“Oh, I don’t know. A beach in the south of France wouldn’t be bad…just you and me playing in the sand.” Nikki squeezed lightly, holding her close until she had warmed up a little.
Helen considered that. “Hmm, you in a bikini? Yes, I rather do like that idea.”
“One day, soon,” Nikki promised and kissed her ear. “Listen, I have to call Trish, see what’s going on with Chix tonight. Why don’t you go and finish warming up in the shower? We can spend the rest of the evening snuggled up by the fire.”
“Sounds fantastic.”
While Helen disappeared into the bedroom, Nikki dialed the club number, unsurprised when it was answered on only the second ring. There was absolutely no music or crowd noise in the background. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Told everyone not to bother coming in,” Trisha responded. “Just putting the sign up on the door to let anyone stupid enough to come by that we’re closed for the evening.”
“What about you?” Nikki asked as she took Helen’s toddy over to the microwave to reheat it for her return. “I hope you’re not contemplating driving home in this tonight.”
“No, I’ll just stay upstairs in the flat.”
Nikki thought about the dark and dingy little flat that was barely large enough to turn around in. She’d stayed there just after her appeal, and both she and Trisha had utilized it whenever they were too tired to drive home while working late at the club. She glanced briefly at the bedroom, winced a little, and quickly made the offer before she changed her mind.
“Why don’t you come and stay here,” she invited. “The gas fire should still be okay if there’s a power cut. You’ll be buggered if you stay in the flat. If the power goes, so will the boiler and the radiators.”
“Uh, Claire’s here with me.”
Nikki rolled her eyes. “Of course, she is. Bring her, too. Just don’t keep Helen and I up all night howling at the moon.” There was a brief pause, and she could hear Trisha talking to Claire in the background. The lights flickered briefly, and Nikki glanced up, relieved when they stayed lit. “Did you see that?”
“Yeah, we’ll be right over. Besides, there’s nothing to eat here except for crisps and some peanuts.”
“I’ll sort us out some dinner.” Nikki hung up and offered a bit of a sheepish smile as Helen returned, dressed in jeans and a thick, fuzzy sweater. “Hi, darling. Trisha and Claire are stranded at the club. I told them to come here.”
Helen kissed her on the cheek. “Good idea, sweetheart. Did you see the lights flicker? That place will be like a barn if the power goes.”
Relieved to have such an understanding partner, Nikki kissed her back. “Can you light the fire? I’ll go down and wait for them so they don’t have to waste time being buzzed up.”
Downstairs, she waited on the stairwell just as she had for Helen earlier. When she spotted the couple dashing up the pavement, she opened the door and motioned them inside. The wind was blowing even harder and the freezing rain had turned to snow, falling so thickly that she could barely see across the street.
“Bastard weather,” Trisha said as they clattered upstairs. She was holding Claire’s hand firmly and Nikki, following in their wake, wondered if they would manage to control themselves for the evening. She had her doubts.
Thirty minutes later, the women were all sitting close to the fireplace, dining on hearty seafood chowder and homemade bread. The power had finally failed, and the candles scattered around the living room cast a warm light over them. As the wind howled outside, they snuggled close to their respective partners, feeling rather cozy and grateful for the steadily burning fire.
“Thank you for this,” Claire said, taking a sip of her hot toddy. She and Trisha were wedged together in the big chair, with barely enough room for them to maneuver with their food. “I’m so glad you invited us over, Nikki.”
Nikki, cuddled close to Helen on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, merely shrugged. “Hey, no need to rough it when we have all the comforts of home right here.”
“And it gives us the opportunity to spend some real quality time together,” Helen added cheerfully, making Nikki start a little and Claire frown suspiciously. Trisha, not knowing Helen’s inflections nearly as well, slurped her chowder in happy ignorance. But even she looked up when Helen added: “You two really need to come to grips with your feelings for each other.”
“Christ,” Nikki muttered and stuffed a piece of thickly buttered bread into her mouth.
Claire glared at Helen and Trisha blinked in bemusement. “Huh?”
“All I’m saying is that neither one of you wants to be the first to take the plunge, so what you need to do right now is look at each other and tell each other how you really feel.”
Nikki chewed rapidly, Claire’s glare deepened and Trisha, finally twigging that something was wrong, started to look worried. “Huh?”
Helen struggled on gamely. “I mean, it’s obvious to everyone exactly how you two feel about each other, but for whatever reason, neither of you is willing to tell the other. I just want you to know that this is a safe place, and we love you both dearly, so this is a perfect time to be completely honest with each other.”
Nikki swallowed hard. “Helen,” she said warningly, in a low voice.
“Has it occurred to you that it’s absolutely none of your business,” Claire said at the same time, through clenched teeth.
Trisha looked at Helen and then at Claire. “Huh?”
Helen sighed loudly. “Isn’t there anything either of you wants to share with the other, something that you’ve wanted to say for a long time and just haven’t had the opportunity before now?”
There was a long silence, and then Trisha squared her shoulders. Turning to face Claire, she took her hand, and regarded her gravely. “Hamilton hates me.”
Claire blinked, surprise lifting her brows. “Hamilton? He doesn’t hate you.”
“Who the hell is Hamilton?” Nikki was confused.
“Claire’s cat,” Helen explained in a low voice.
The other two were ignoring Helen and Nikki at this point. “Yes, he does, Claire,” Trisha said earnestly. “He absolutely detests me. Every night I stop by, it’s a case of whether he can get to me before I get to the bedroom. That’s why he tears the shit out of my jackets.”
Claire stared at her, clearly skeptical. “Honestly, Trisha, what earthly reason would he have to hate you?”
“Because he knows I’m completely in love with you. And he loathes me for it.”
“Oh.” Claire let out her breath audibly. “Oh!” Her lower lip trembled. “I love you, too. With all my heart.”
Trisha hesitated, and then leaned forward, kissing her sweetly. Claire put her hands up to cup her face and kissed her back.
Helen smiled tremulously. “I knew it would work out.”
“Christ,” Nikki said. Then as Claire and Trisha started to sink back onto the cushions of the chair, drawing the blanket around them, she raised the volume. “Oi, take it upstairs.”
Sheepishly, they stopped and rearranged themselves more decorously. “Sorry,” Trisha muttered. “Forgot where we were for a moment.”
“If you think them spending the night in our spare room is going to make a difference, you’re deluding yourself,” Nikki said quietly in Helen’s ear. “We’ll be lucky if we get a wink of sleep.”
Helen leaned back into her body and turned her head to look at her. “Or maybe we’ll be the ones to keep them up,” she replied.
“Oh.” Nikki blinked, considered that, and smiled widely. “Okay.”
She wasn’t surprised that Trisha and Claire were only able to contain themselves another twenty minutes. After making a weak excuse about being tired that not even Helen pretended she believed, they disappeared up the stairs toward the guest bedroom, carrying candles to light their way. Nikki wasn’t sorry to see them go. She was rather anxious to bundle Helen into their bed to wait out the rest of the long night in warm comfort.
After cleaning up the living room and stacking the dishes in the sink, Nikki followed Helen into the ensuite. They still had running water from the city system, but they’d have to keep the gas fire going, particularly if the power failure lasted more than a day. It would be their only source of heat.
After brushing their teeth and completing the rest of their ablutions, they quickly slipped under the blankets, snuggling against the flannel sheets, glad of the warmth and softness against their skin. They could hear the wind howling around the windows facing the back alley, and then from above, a faint howling from Claire. Or was it Trisha? Nikki wasn’t entirely sure.
“Christ,” she said.
Helen chuckled and ran her hand over Nikki’s stomach. “Shall we try to drown them out?”
“Actually,” Nikki said as she nuzzled her lightly, “I’d rather we just outlast them.”
The End