Fail Safe
G.L. Dartt
“We impose a reduced sentence of six years imprisonment, time already served. Lydia Wallace, you are free to go.”
In the gallery, Helen Stewart felt the tension leave her body in a rush, elated as all her hard work over the past year had come to fruition. As a smile spread across her face, she looked down where Marion and Claire bracketed Lydia at the defense table. Their client had her hands over her face as she wept. Beside Helen, Della Hines, her boss at the Home Office Correctional & Rehabilitation Policy Unit, where Helen worked as a programs coordinator, leaned over and squeezed Helen’s arm.
“Well done,” she said.
“Thank you,” Helen responded with honest satisfaction.
This was why she had joined the prison service to begin with, to help women who were unfairly treated by the system. She couldn’t help everyone, and truthfully, not everyone necessarily deserved the help, but she could do what she could, and on this day, it was enough. Lydia, an abused wife who had finally turned on her husband, was guilty of manslaughter, not the first-degree murder charge initially leveled against her, and with Helen working with her on the appeal process, Lydia had finally been able to have the verdict overturned. She couldn’t get back the years she’d spent in Holloway, but at least, she was no longer looking at spending the rest of her life banged up.
Helen took one last look at Lydia, now hugging Claire, and slipped out of the gallery into the corridor outside the courtroom. There would be a celebration, she knew, a party thrown by Lydia’s friends who had come out of the woodwork when it appeared she might be justified in killing her husband after all, but Helen didn’t need to attend. Della could represent the Policies Unit. For Helen, the successful resolution to the case was reward enough, not to mention having the rest of the afternoon off, a rare treat in the middle of the week. Besides, the only person she really wanted to celebrate with was at a small bistro called Libertà, taking care of the lunch crowd.
Out on the street near the courthouse, Helen unlocked the door to her new car, a metallic blue Peugeot 206 GTI 180. Her partner, Nikki Wade had purchased it for her as a Christmas gift, though if it hadn’t been for the fact that her old car had given up the ghost around the same time, Helen would have resisted accepting it. At least it hadn’t been a Mercedes or a BMW. Anyone working at the Home Office in her capacity would have received a suspicious look or two in that case.
Still, this one had all the bells and whistles and she was well chuffed to receive it.
She parked in the car park across from Chix, right beside Nikki’s posh ride, a dark blue Porsche Boxster convertible. As she got out, she noticed that Trisha’s Mercedes sedan was also there and realized she must be in the nightclub, perhaps catching up on paperwork. Juggling her briefcase and purse, Helen strode down the pavement toward the bistro where she saw two uniformed coppers exit, one a sandy haired young man, the other, an older, dark haired woman with piercing eyes. The latter had once pulled Helen over on a traffic violation, the same night Nikki escaped Larkhall, and Helen was sneaking her back inside. She prayed the PC would never remember it. Fortunately, as Charlotte Leedham wove herself into the fabric of the neighborhood, it became more unlikely she would ever identify either Helen or Nikki from that insignificant traffic stop. Instead, she knew Nikki as the personable owner of Libertà and Helen as her Scottish girlfriend. Helen was fine with that.
Dipping her head as they passed each other, a brief acknowledgement, Helen entered the bistro, stopping just inside the door. The place was packed and Nikki was busy behind the counter, ringing people through as they picked up their takeaway. Helen smiled and stepped back outside before Nikki noticed her, not wanting to interrupt what was clearly a profitable day. Instead, she walked further down the street until she reached the alley leading to the side door. She could have gone in through the bistro, of course, and out the kitchen, but that would have involved dodging the cook and waitresses. They didn’t need her in their way.
Digging out her card, Helen swiped through the electronic lock and went inside the small entry. To her right was the staircase leading to the upper floors, and two flights later, she let herself into her flat, dropping both briefcase and purse on the small table beside the door. Finally, she took a deep breath as she allowed herself to relax, looking around the dwelling she shared with the woman who had turned her life upside-down seven years earlier when Helen had been wing governor at Larkhall prison, and Nikki, a fiery tempered inmate. Helen loved this flat, bright, spacious and decorated to suit both her and Nikki’s taste. It was hard to remember why she had ever resisted moving in.
A little peckish, she went into the kitchen and opened the large fridge, regarding the contents with slight trepidation. She didn’t cook, unlike Nikki, and all the fresh ingredients mocked her as she tried to think of what she should do for lunch. She could always call down for takeaway, of course, but she didn’t want to add to their workload, especially since she never had to pay for it.
Finally, she decided even she couldn’t screw up sandwiches and pulled some tomato, lettuce, cheese and ham out of the fridge, along with some mustard and mayo. After constructing a couple of impressive sandwiches, she added some potato chips and a cold bottle of lager to wash it down. To add to the decadence, she bypassed the dining table to carry her plate and glass into the living room, plopping down on the sofa and using the coffee table to spread out her feast. She clicked on the television, to BBC News and dug into her meal, feeling completely satisfied with her world.
She was just about to take a bite when her attention was taken by the news feed scrolling across the bottom with the word ‘Larkhall’ in it. Wondering what the hell was happening now, she put her sandwich down and turned up the sound. It took a couple of stories before they got to the one she was interested in. By that time, she had resumed eating, and thus, had a mouth full of food when she found out Jim Fenner was dead.
She nearly choked and it took a minute before she could completely take in what the newscaster was saying about the discovery of a body in the hanging cell at Larkhall prison, that it was a prison guard and that the identity was finally being released as James Graham Fenner.
With a slack jaw, Helen sat in stunned disbelief, unsure of exactly what she should feel. Intense glee was probably not proper. Profound relief shouldn’t be there, either. Sadness? No, there was no sadness, she thought.
Not one little flicker of sorrow over a life lost.
Of all lives to be lost, in fact, she would have picked that one every time and on some level, that was distressing to her, to be so callous. But by God, no one deserved an early exit more. The only thing she regretted was that it hadn’t happened sooner.
She watched through the news cycle two more times, but it only repeated the story with no new details. Nothing about how he died or the circumstances surrounding his death, or even who had found him. Helen couldn’t imagine what he’d been doing in the hanging cell in the first place. That was where Yvonne Atkins had died.
With a start, she realized yesterday was the one year anniversary of Yvonne’s death. Initially thought to have escaped, Yvonne’s body was later discovered some months later and an autopsy revealed she died the same time she disappeared from Larkhall. She had been a good friend to Nikki and Nikki had been devastated by her passing. More than a few rumors floated around that Fenner was involved in her demise, but no concrete evidence was ever found and the circumstantial evidence wasn’t enough to stick.
Which was Fenner all over. He slithered out of situations that would have brought down ninety-nine percent of the rest of the world. Well, it looked like he finally encountered something he hadn’t been able to slither out of.
Helen reached for her mobile, but then reconsidered. Fenner was hardly worth disrupting Nikki’s workday. It could wait until she got home. Then they’d have two things to celebrate. She needed more information, however. She called up Della’s number, barely able to hear her over the noise in the background when she answered.
“Helen, you should have come to the party,” Della yelled into the phone.
“Della, can you find someplace quieter?”
“What?”
“Della, I need to ask you something. Find somewhere quieter.”
“What are you saying, Helen?”
“Please, Della. Can you find someplace quieter?
“Wait, I can’t hear you. I need to find someplace quieter.”
Helen covered her face with her hand and waited a couple of minutes. When Della finally came back on the line, Helen couldn’t hear any ambient noise in the background.
“Helen, you won’t believe the spread they’ve set out. And everyone’s here. They’re so pleased with your work. They keep asking for you.”
“Next time,” Helen promised. “Listen, Della, it’s on the news that Jim Fenner is dead.”
“What?”
“They found Jim Fenner dead in the hanging cell where Yvonne Adkins died,” Helen repeated. “Can you find out more from your contacts?”
“Oh, my God, Helen.” Della paused. “Where were you at the time?”
“Very funny,” Helen said, though she didn’t think it was at all. “I’m not even sure he’s been killed rather than died of natural causes, though it wouldn’t surprise me if someone did top him. That’s why I’m trying to find out more than what the news is saying.”
“Okay, I’ll make a few calls. Give me about an hour.”
“I’ll be here. Use my mobile number.”
“Will do.”
Helen shut her phone and looked around. Nothing to do but wait for Nikki at this point. She plopped back down on the sofa and picked up her sandwich.
Suddenly, her appetite had returned with a vengeance.
“I’m at the bar. Come see me.”
Nikki glanced at the text from Trisha as she shut the front door of Libertà and made sure it was locked. Curious, she headed off for Chix, texting back that she was on her way. They’d been missing each other the past few days, mostly because they worked very separate hours and both were involved with lovely women they’d much rather spend time with, but they were business partners and did need to cross paths every so often. Knowing Helen was in court today and probably wouldn’t be back until late, Nikki decided now was as good a time as any to take a meeting with her ex.
The interior of the lesbian nightclub she co-owned was dark and cool and as she crossed the dance floor, she wondered what Trisha found so urgent. She discovered the stocky blonde in the office at the rear of the building, studying the computer display. Trisha flicked an eyebrow when Nikki entered.
“We need to talk,” were the first words out of her mouth.
“I’ve never had a conversation go well when it starts like that,” Nikki said as she dropped into the chair on the other side of the desk, putting her feet up as she made herself comfortable.
“Uncomfortable truths have to be addressed,” Trisha said.
“Okay, like what?”
“We have another offer for the club,” Trisha said. “From the Rickson Group.”
Nikki exhaled. They’d received a few offers over the past two years, mostly because the neighborhood was becoming gentrified and real estate was suddenly valuable. Most they barely read before tossing aside. The Rickson Group was one of the more persistent suitors, upping their offer every time. “So?”
“I think we should take it this time.”
“What? Really?” Nikki was honestly surprised. Chix was her and Trisha’s baby. They had built it from the ground up until it had become the hottest lesbian nightclub in London.
“I’ve been going over the numbers, Nik,” Trisha said, turning the screen towards Nikki. “Profits have steadily declined over the past year while costs keep going up. We’re not as bad off as some, but the back of my neck is tingling. I think it’s time to get out while the getting is good.”
Nikki glanced at the screen and then back at Trisha who was far better at these things than she was. “Is patronage down that much?”
“Fridays and Saturdays are still good,” Trisha said in a serious tone, “Thursdays aren’t bad, but the rest of the week, no matter what we do, we’re just not drawing the numbers we once did.”
“Could be just a downturn,” Nikki pointed out. “The bistro’s doing very well. I pull a lot from around the area.”
“I know, but for Chix, this is a trend that I don’t think is going to reverse. There’s always going to be a certain percentage of the community that want to go to clubs, but it’s not going to be enough to keep us in the black. Not at this rate.”
“Then why does this Rickson Group want a lesbian club?”
“They don’t. They want the space for retail.”
“No more Chix at all?” Nikki was honestly stricken by that. “I don’t know about this, Trisha.”
“C’mon, Nik, everything’s online. Social media is killing how it used to be for us. Now, dykes get to know each other in chat rooms and mailing lists and message boards before moving in together.”
Nikki, who was the first to admit she wasn’t as tech savvy as Trisha was, winced a little. “Am I that far behind the times?” she asked, suddenly feeling old even though she was only in her late thirties.
“Then there’s the fact that when lesbians become couples, they tend to stop going out, unlike gay guys. Plus, women just make less than men so they don’t have the disposable income to go out to a bar every night.”
Nikki held up her hands defensively. “Okay, I get what you’re saying.” She felt her heart sink even though she knew Trisha was probably right. “Is it a good offer?”
“It’s more than fair,” Trisha said. “We could take a chance and wait a little longer, hope for a better one, but I really do believe there’s a point when Chix is going to start bleeding money rather than bringing it in, and that could happen in a hurry. I don’t want to be caught with our knickers down.”
“Could we shop it around?” Nikki asked.
“We could, but there’s no guarantee we’d get a better price anywhere else. It’s an old building, Nikki. They’re going to have to gut it to make it over for shops.”
Nikki put a hand to her forehead, thinking about it as she studied the Nerf basketball hoop stuck to the wall behind Trisha. Finally, she exhaled gustily and nodded. “I trust you, Trish. If you say now’s the time to get out, I believe you.” Trisha regarded her a moment, a flash of almost disappointment crossing her face and Nikki tilted her head. “What?”
“I guess a part of me hoped you would try and talk me out of it,” Trisha admitted. “I’m going to miss the place. But the numbers don’t lie, and as much as I want to, I can’t fight them.”
“What are you going to do?” Nikki had already moved on with the bistro but Trisha had enjoyed managing the club, and was good at it.
“Don’t know,” Trisha said, leaning back in her chair. “Haven’t thought that far.”
“We could expand the bistro,” Nikki suggested. “Extend the hours a little and manage it together. Honestly, Trish, I’ve been turning them away at the door at breakfast and lunch. If there’s going to be more retail moving in, I’ll need space to catch all the overflow.”
“Me with a day job?” Trisha didn’t look thrilled, but she appeared to be considering it. “Still, if you stayed with the mornings, I reckon I could take care of the afternoons. We could even go to six or seven, catch anyone heading home from work who isn’t interested in cooking.”
“And it would give us both some time off,” Nikki said.
“What’s next to it?” Trisha’s eyes narrowed as she thought. Nikki could almost see the wheels turning.
“That old video place.”
“Another one on its way out, I think, and honestly, that place never did much business to begin with. You think we could pick up the building? Knock the adjoining wall out and expand Libertà?”
“Worth a try. The only other option is to make over this place ourselves and move Libertà here.”
Trisha winced. “Not sure we have the capital for that. No, we’d be better off selling off this monstrosity. With the money we get from this, we’ll be able to find a proper space for Libertà”
“Then it sounds like we have a plan,” Nikki said.
“I’ll call Claire, get the paperwork started.”
“Okay, then.” But Nikki didn’t get up. “This is hard.”
“Yeah, it is,” Trisha admitted. “But it’s not like how it was in our day, Nik.” She put a crackle in her voice, trying to sound old. “No more sliding up to someone at the bar, buying her a drink and trying to scream over the music, Hell, in our time, we even pretended we weren’t lesbos out in the real world. Lesbian bars were the only place we could be ourselves, let alone meet women.”
“Not just bars,” Nikki pointed out. “There was prison, too.”
“Not funny, Nik.” But Trisha laughed.
“Speaking of which, I need get going,” Nikki said, pulling herself out of the chair. “Helen will be home soon. She had court with Lydia today.”
“Yeah, Clair, too.”
Nikki hesitated by the door. “When are we closing?”
Trisha sobered, her bright blue eyes dimming a little. “I don’t think it’ll take long for the sale to go through. A month. Maybe two.”
Nikki looked out onto the darkened dance floor, feeling that in her chest like a dagger. “Damn,” she said.
“Yeah.”
As she exited the club, she noticed Helen’s Peugeot in the car park across the street and realized she was already home. Quickening her step, she wondered how Helen would take the news. She’d probably commiserate. Even though Nikki now had Libertà, Helen knew Chix had been important to both Nikki and Trisha. And she’d miss the occasional night out she enjoyed there, particularly the VIP treatment that came with dating the owner.
Despite her real regret over losing Chix, Nikki’s sadness lifted with every step as she ascended the stairs. On the third floor, Nikki unlocked the door and entered the flat. “Why are you home so early?” she called out at the same time Helen demanded, “What took you so long?”
The Scottish accent slurred it into ‘wot took y’s’long?’
“Had to talk to Trish,” Nikki said, putting her coat in the closet. “How did court go?” She looked at Helen and faltered, trying to decipher the expression on her partner’s face. A combination of trepidation, and elation, there was also a little lingering shock. Nikki felt a flicker of something in her gut. “Did you get a result? Was it bad?”
“No, Lydia won her appeal. She’s free.”
“That’s brilliant news,” Nikki said as she hugged her. Helen was practically vibrating in her arms, but she had told her the news about court as if it were a mere afterthought. Releasing the embrace, arms still clasped loosely around her, Nikki looked down into those greenish eyes that were almost sparking with energy. “What’s going on?”
Helen half smiled, the one with teeth showing, the tip of her tongue between them. “I’ve got some news.”
“So, do I,” Nikki admitted, brushing a wisp of wayward chestnut hair from Helen’s cheek. “You first.”
“They found a body in the hanging cell at Larkhall.”
Nikki went cold. “No,” she said, her voice growing faint. “Who was it?” Mentally preparing herself to hear that yet another friend or acquaintance from her time in the prison had met an untimely end.
“Jim Fenner.” Helen’s eyes searched Nikki’s face intently, waiting for a reaction.
Nikki couldn’t speak. She just stared at Helen for a moment. “You’re not taking the piss?” she managed finally.
“No, it’s been on the news,” Helen said. “I had Della reach out to her contacts, see what else she could find out. It wasn’t natural causes. He was murdered. Stabbed in the neck.”
“Shit!” Nikki’s breath left her lungs in a whoosh. “Good thing I have an alibi,” she added.
Helen slapped her bicep. “Shut that.”
Nikki released her hold on Helen and moved into the kitchen, to the island there, sliding onto the stool. “I told you as soon as he became wing governor, someone would top him. I’m surprised it took this long.” She watched Helen as she took a seat on the other stool. “Any suspects?”
“There’s an ongoing investigation.” Helen reached over and took Nikki’s hand, sobering as she squeezed it lightly. “They won’t be short of possibilities, that’s for sure.”
Nikki tried to wrap her head around a world without Jim Fenner. She had managed to escape his reach, but others, like the Julies and Tina were still behind bars, still subject to his abuse. That they were now free of it was like a weight lifting off her shoulders, one she hadn’t realized was still there until it was suddenly gone.
Nikki smiled.
Helen saw the same emotions flickering across Nikki’s face that she had felt, surprise, elation, and an uncertainty about what it all meant. Her cinnamon brown eyes grew duskier as she ran her fingers awkwardly through the short shock of raven hair, leaving it standing on end. Then she smiled, a darkly happy smile that was equal parts hateful glee and revengeful taunt.
“Christ, Helen,” she said. “Break out the champagne. Or is that too uncivilized of me?”
“It is rude,” Helen agreed. “But I already put a bottle in the fridge.”
Nikki laughed, though there was little humor in it. “A man’s dead. I shouldn’t be pleased by it.”
“We both know who and what Fenner was,” Helen said. “I suspect we’re not the only ones celebrating.” She tightened her grip on Nikki’s hand. “What did you have to tell me?”
Nikki stared at her blankly for a moment, then shook her head as if to clear away the cobwebs. “Yeah, I just talked to Trish. We’re selling the club.”
“What?” Helen was honestly startled. “Why?”
Nikki inhaled deeply, as if needing to center herself. “It’s time. Trisha’s been doing the numbers and while it’s good for now, that’s not going to last much longer. We got another offer from Rickson, so this time, we’re going to take it.”
Helen absorbed that. “How do you feel about that?”
Nikki shrugged, a small lift to her shoulders. “It’s sad, but I trust Trisha, and if her gut is saying to sell now, then I’m inclined to agree. She’s the one who’s there every night, after all. She can tell the ebb and flow of the punters, and if there aren’t as many as there used to be, and there’s no chance of that changing, then we need to get out now.”
“So, this new group will be running Chix?”
“No, we’ll be closing. They want the space for retail.”
“Oh.” Helen thought about that. “No more nightclub for us at all?”
“Well, it’s like Trish says, everyone’s on the net, now. Don’t need to pick up women in a bar anymore. You can do it all from the comfort of your own home.”
“I reckon,” Helen said, suddenly feeling a little unsteady, as if something solid had just moved beneath her feet. She wasn’t one for change and this would be profound for Nikki, and more so for Trisha. Claire, at least, would be glad to see more of her girlfriend. Though Trisha and Claire had lived together for the past year, Helen knew it was difficult for them to find quality time. As a solicitor, Claire worked days. Trisha worked evenings and early mornings. They didn’t even see each other in passing.
Helen and Nikki had gone through the same thing, and Nikki had ended up starting a bistro because of it. Would Trisha do the same thing?
“How’s Trisha?”
Nikki shrugged again. “She’s not happy. It’s hard when everything you’ve worked for disappears because of something you have no control over. But I think she’s been dealing with it longer than me. She saw it coming and has the good business sense to move on when she has to.”
“What exactly is she moving on to?” Helen asked.
“We’re talking about expanding Libertà,” Nikki said. “Find more space, enlarge the menu to supper. Splitting the shifts will give us both more time for ourselves.” She offered Helen a smile. “We might even be able to go on that vacation we’ve been talking about.”
Helen briefly considered the idea of Nikki and her ex-girlfriend working side-by-side once more and decided that she really didn’t have anything to worry about. Everyone involved, Helen, Nikki, Claire and Trisha, had all found a stable equilibrium over the past couple of years. That one was an ex, and the other the best mate hardly moved the needle on Helen’s anxiety meter anymore.
Nikki slipped her hand from Helen’s and began to pace about the kitchen. “It’s crazy, Helen. I don’t know what to think about this.”
“Selling Chix?”
“No, with Fenner.” Nikki said. “I know it doesn’t even directly affect me. Once I was out of Larkhall, I was beyond his reach.”
“But you know women who aren’t,” Helen pointed out. “It’s natural that you would be happy for them. After all, you can easily relate to what they’re going through.”
“The hanging cell,” Nikki continued as she walked around the flat. “It’s been a year, Helen.”
“To the day,” Helen said. “They didn’t release the news until this morning, but according to Della, it happened last night. There was a memorial for Yvonne, and a service in the chapel. Di found the body and interrupted the service to announce the news.”
“I still can’t believe Di married the bastard,” Nikki said. “Worse, stood up for him again and again when he was caught with the hit and run.”
“Well, she found the body and we both know the police look to the spouse first.”
Nikki stopped, eyebrows lifted. “You think?”
“I heard from Dominic that they were going through a nasty split. He hears all the news in that pub he goes to. A lot of guards from Larkhall drink there.” Helen rested her chin on her fist. “So, yeah, I think they’ll be taking a close look at her.”
“But do you think she might have done it?”
Helen considered the question carefully. “Not her style,” she decided finally. “Whoever did it was looking him in the eye. If he’d been stabbed in his back, then maybe, but I don’t think she’d take him head on.”
Nikki chewed that over, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, you’re right. I mean, she was mostly all right when I knew her, but there’s a sneaky bit to her. Remember when she went after Dominic?”
Helen laughed. “I’ll know he’ll never forget.”
“It’s good that we’re not in it, any more. We’d be first on the list.”
Helen stopped laughing. “Maybe,” she allowed. “Probably.” She winced. “Yeah, we’d already be in cuffs.”
“I wish I could talk to some of them,” Nikki said. “The Julies at least. They’d know who currently had it in for him the most.”
Helen felt a little frisson of alarm. “This is not the time to fill out a VO.”
Nikki glanced at her. “Yeah, I know, you’re right.” She ran her hands through her hair, smoothing it down. “Hey, want to go out tonight? Palmo’s instead of eating in?”
“That sounds great.” Helen knew that while Nikki didn’t mind cooking supper, after a long day in the bistro, she deserved being waited on instead of the other way around. “We’ll dress up. I’ve already showered so it’s all yours.”
“Okay, call and see if you can get a reservation for half six.”
Helen knew that even if they were booked, Palmo would find a table for his friend, Nikki Wade, but it would be better if the four-star restaurant knew they were coming. After confirming a table for six o’clock, Helen went into the bedroom where she opened the closet doors, looking over a wardrobe considerably expanded since moving in with Nikki. One of the adjustments of living together was that Nikki loved buying gifts for Helen, primarily clothing and accessories, and since Nikki’s taste was far better than Helen’s, she had learned to accept the gifts graciously, rather than objecting to the expense.
Helen finally settled on a nice skirt and emerald blouse, suede boots and matching jacket before doing her makeup. Nikki came out of the ensuite in a finely tailored suit and V-neck vest, looking stylish and sophisticated as always after only half an hour. Helen gritted her teeth, then smiled as Nikki hugged her tight.
“You look great,” Helen told her.
Nikki looked surprised, as she often did when complimented, as if she thought Helen was just being nice. “Thank you,” she said, then added immediately, “You look fantastic. Is that new? The blouse?”
“It is.” Helen was a little proud of it. It was one she had picked out herself.
“Brings out your eyes,” Nikki said. “Like a cat. Makes me want to purr.”
Helen tightened her embrace. “I’ll make you purr. After dinner.”
Nikki’s eyes lit up. “Promises, promises.”
“Fact,” Helen told her.
Palmo’s restaurant was thirty minutes away and since they knew they would be having wine, and possibly champagne, they took a cab rather than drive themselves. Offered a prime spot next to a window, Nikki and Helen began their meal by toasting each other, even as they really knew they were toasting the end of a long-despised nemesis. And in unspoken agreement, they didn’t speak his name again, concentrating instead on other topics like London being awarded the 2012 Olympics and the flooding of the Glastonbury Festival to which they had planned to go but decided not to when they saw the long-range weather forecast. They didn’t talk about the recent bombings in the London transport system. It remained too raw, and they had already discussed it to death two weeks earlier.
And as they enjoyed dinner, Helen found herself enraptured once more by the beauty and personality of the woman she loved, knowing she was blessed even as she was unsure she deserved it. Nikki’s dark eyes drank her in, and as the meal progressed, they spoke less and less, but looked at each other more and more.
“Do you remember when you first brought me here?” Helen asked, feeling that delicious thrill in the pit of her stomach, that sensation of wanting her partner so much, and knowing she was wanted in return.
“The same day I got out,” Nikki said, smiling. “I’ll never forget any of it.”
“You wouldn’t go to bed with me,” Helen said. It still stung ever so slightly.
“I did eventually.”
“After a whole week.” A touch of outrage colored her tone.
Nikki laughed. “I needed you to chase me a little.”
“Do I have to chase you tonight?”
“Oh, I think you’ve already caught me,” Nikki said. “Check?”
“Oh, yes,” Helen assured her.
In the cab, on the way home, Helen snuggled up against Nikki’s side, burying her face into the warm skin of her neck, inhaling the delightful scent of her perfume and skin. Resting her fingertips on Nikki’s belly, she teased through the shirt just a little, though nothing blatant because it was still light out and they were clearly visible to the male cabbie in the rearview mirror.
She could hear the hitch in Nikki’s breath, however, felt the delicious tension in her body, sensed the desire rising thick and strong. It matched her own, that hunger that even after all these years, nearly undid her.
Nikki, clearly distracted, over tipped the driver and stumbled a little as they walked to the door arm in arm.
Helen suspected that tonight was going to be a very good night.
In the bedroom, Nikki slipped out of her clothes, taking the time to hang the jacket and pants back in the closet before tossing the shirt and her knickers in the laundry. Helen was already in bed, naked and waiting impatiently. Nikki was amused, remembering a time when she wouldn’t have bothered to waste time picking up after herself, but it was still early and while the desire and love were the same, that awful, desperate urgency no longer existed. She was certain in her relationship with Helen, sure of her love and knowing she was totally committed to her. It granted her a comfort and security that no other relationship ever had.
“Do you have to take so long?” Helen muttered querulously.
Nikki crawled onto the bed, pulling the duvet away from Helen, exposing her to her hungry gaze. “You know me, I like to take my time.”
Helen reached up and slipped her arms around Nikki’s neck, pulling her down on top of her. Nikki groaned happily as she settled onto those wonderful curves, dipping her head to kiss Helen profoundly, passionately, stomach clenching as Helen made that wonderful sound at the back of her throat, that moan of joy and vulnerability.
“Nikki,” Helen whispered. She held Nikki’s head between her palms as she returned the kisses, open, aching kisses that Nikki felt right to her toes.
“Ma wee burd,” Nikki muttered, a ridiculous and intimate appellation only they knew about. Dipping her head, she took a fat brown nipple between her lips, tonguing it lightly, enjoying how her touch made Helen wiggle. Then she moved over to the other, trailing back and forth between Helen’s full breasts with tender regard. Her hands moved over Helen’s body, her sides and hips, caressing the soft skin with practiced pressure, knowing just how and where to invoke the maximum response.
Then she lifted her body so that she could reach between them, Helen readily parting her legs to grant Nikki access to that warm, wonderful wet place that she fondled and stroked and finally penetrated with gentle strength.
Helen’s hips moved against her in rhythmic motion, meeting Nikki’s deep thrusts with soft cries of pleasure, while Nikki’s thumb swiped over the firm little ridge with increasing pressure. Then she was shuddering, walls fluttering about Nikki’s fingers, that unmistakable instance of total want and surrender.
“Ah, Nikki,” Helen said again, a breathless whisper of bliss as she relaxed against her and Nikki kissed her deep and long and hard. Then Helen was rolling them over, pinning Nikki down as she kissed down her body, hungry, taunting kisses that owned her, using her mouth to pleasure her, drawing out the desire until Niki was shivering and groaning and curling her toes in utter joy.
Just before she went to sleep, Helen snuggled up against her, head resting on her shoulder, arm thrown over her and leg entangled in hers, Nikki kissed her ear.
“A proper celebration, this.”
Helen muttered something inaudible, bit Nikki’s shoulder lightly, and quickly started snoring. Which was fine as far as Nikki was concerned.
The next morning, Nikki stood on the pavement outside Libertà and inhaled the cool air that would quickly heat up once the sun rose. The summer solstice was behind them and it would grow progressively darker in the morning when she opened the café, but right now, there was light in the east, that dark blue shading to almost a green, dawn breaking with gentle purpose. Smiling, she stepped back inside the bistro and began her day, knowing the rest of her staff, Jenna, Pam and Diane, would soon arrive. All were ex-cons, hired through an agreement with Monica Lyndsay, Nikki’s old cell mate. After Monica’s release, she had started a program to help female convicts adjust back into society, and Nikki had been glad to help, even if sometimes, it didn’t always work out.
Once the crew arrived, spilling in through the side door leading to the kitchen, Pam immediately fired up the grill while Jenna and Diane started in on all the little tasks needed to make the café ready for the morning crowd. It hummed like a well-oiled machine and Nikki indulged in a moment of pride as she watched them work.
Flipping the sign over at six, Nikki wasn’t surprised when she saw Constable Leedham approaching down the street. She was in plain clothes, but even on her off days, she made a habit of stopping by for breakfast. Nikki wondered if the woman couldn’t cook. She was fair, though. On her off days, she paid her own tab.
“Hey, Nikki,” she greeted as she slid inside.
“Charlotte,” Nikki returned amiably.
After taking her order, Nikki went into the kitchen where Pam was beginning her omelettes, the signature dish for the breakfast menu. Once known as ‘Podger’ Pam, she had a mental illness since put under control with medication. At times, it made her seem slow and awkward, but she could cook like nobody’s business. The word got out about her omelettes and now people who didn’t even live or work in the area were dropping by to try her latest creation.
Nikki was thrilled, and had even sponsored a six-week course for Pam to learn more about the art, though for that month and a half, she’d been forced to take over the chef duties. It was not something she wanted to happen again and she lived in fear that someone might try to steal Pam away from her. It would be interesting to see what she could do with an expanded supper menu.
When she delivered Leedham’s meal, Charlotte gestured to the chair opposite her. “Can I speak with you?”
Nikki felt a flash of disquiet, wondering what the constable wanted but unwilling to show her wariness. She took a seat and regarded the woman curiously. “What can I do?”
“Kate,” Charlotte said. “She’s in a bit of trouble.”
Nikki winced. Kate had been another of the projects passed on by Monica, a sultry, darkly beautiful white-collar criminal who had left Libertà six months earlier to take a job with an accounting firm. While Nikki had been sorry to see her move on because Kate had been one of her more competent workers, she certainly wasn’t going to stand in the way, even though a part of her was convinced it was a bad idea. Especially since the job offer had come from a patron of the bistro, a young man who had visited frequently, drawn by Kate’s charm and wit and refused to be swayed by her record. Admirable on one hand, Nikki decided, but sort of stupid on the other.
“What kind of trouble?” Nikki asked. “Was she caught with her fingers in the till?”
Charlotte’s eyebrows went up. “You knew?”
“I suspected that as soon as she started at a money firm, she was bound to slip off the straight and narrow, but she wasn’t listening to me. And I was her employer, not her keeper. Nothing I could do to stop her.”
Charlotte, who obviously had nursed a bit of a soft spot for Kate, reached up and rubbed the back of her neck, looking unhappy. “She called me last night from the local nick, asked if I could lend a hand.”
Nikki let out her breath. “Ah,” she said, not surprised. Kate had never objected to Charlotte’s mild flirting, and indeed, had even encouraged it a little, even though she wasn’t the slightest bit interested in the PC as anything other than a possible future resource. “And?”
“I suggested she contact a solicitor instead. I even offered her the number of one I know.”
“About all you could do,” Nikki offered consolingly. She hesitated, and then leaned forward. “I like Kate, Charlotte. I really do. And while I trusted her in certain areas, there are other times where I didn’t think she could…well, control herself. It’s like a junkie. You don’t put them behind the counter of a chemist and then be surprised when they sample the merchandise. That firm was idiotic for hiring her, but to be honest, I thought they were setting themselves up for a sexual harassment lawsuit before I thought she’d be stupid enough to steal from her own firm. I reckoned she’d use it to find other opportunities for her schemes.”
Charlotte looked uncomfortable, either because she had been that enamored with Kate and couldn’t see what was right in front of her, or because she was a copper and Nikki was so dismissive of such criminal behavior. “I just thought you should know in case you wanted to reach out.”
“I appreciate that,” Nikki said. “I’ll find out if I can do anything for her.”
Charlotte shifted in her seat, discomfited. “I could put in a word.”
Nikki regarded her evenly. “That’s entirely up to you,” she said with careful warning. “But don’t expect to get anything out of it from Kate, because she’s not interested.”
Leedham looked a little offended. “I wouldn’t,” she said. “I’m talking just as a friend.”
Nikki decided she shouldn’t respond to that. She just nodded and rose from her seat. “Need anything else?” While they were talking, the bistro had filled up with people on their way to work hoping to pick up a bit of breakfast.
“I’m fine,” Charlotte said. “Thank you, Nikki.”
Back in the kitchen, Nikki shook her head and wondered if she should call Claire, even though a part of her was convinced that Kate was probably guilty. Still, that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve good representation. Half the time, people were banged up just because they didn’t know when to stay quiet. Claire was a good solicitor and had been around enough for Kate to have some trust in her. She might even listen to what Claire had to tell her.
Making a mental note to put a call in later to her ex-girlfriend’s girlfriend, Nikki refocused on the task at hand, hoping that whatever Kate did, the rest of her staff wouldn’t follow her lead.
Helen lifted her head at the sharp tap on her door, looking up from the files she was organizing. Dominic McAllister was leaning in, rapping on the door frame. A solidly built man with boyish features, he and Helen had worked together at Larkhall and were now colleagues at the Policies Unit.
“Helen, did you hear?”
Helen fought the smile that threatened to break out. “Fenner?”
Dominic flopped down in the chair on the other side of her desk. “Can you believe it?”
“It was a bit of a shock,” Helen admitted as she shut the file and offered her full attention to her friend.
“Who do you think did it?”
“I’m sure I don’t know. Do you have any ideas?”
Dominic looked surprised at having been asked. “Could have been anyone on G Wing. You know everyone hated him for years. And I hear that Neil Grayling was being suspended and Fenner was taking his spot.”
“Fenner as governing governor?” Helen closed her eyes. Him ruling over G Wing had been bad enough, but to put him in charge of the whole prison? Was Management completely insane? She could scarcely imagine what would have happened in that event, the misery he would have caused, the damage he would have done to the women under his supervision. Maybe that was motive enough right there for someone to put an end to him. “Christ!”
“So where were you and Nikki—” Dominic began.
“That isn’t funny.” Helen was rather tired of that joke.
“When you heard the news?” Dominic finished, and then looked confused.
“Oh.” Helen felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “Sorry, I thought you were going to say something else. I saw it on telly at home. I told Nikki as soon as she came in from work. What about you?”
“Last night after leaving the office,” Dominic said. “I stopped by the pub for a pint and it was on the newsfeed. I wanted to let out a yell, you know, like when the team scores a goal, but I didn’t think anyone else would get it.” He looked a bit bashful. “He wasn’t a nice man, Helen.”
“You don’t have to tell me, Dom,” Helen said.
“By the way, congratulations on the win, yesterday. Della was over the moon.”
Helen smiled. “It good when things work out.”
“Joan was pissed, of course.”
Helen took a mental step back, knowing that any initial response would be the wrong one. Dr. Joan Moore was a consultant with the Unit regarding medical policies, a brittle woman with red hair and ice blue eyes. She had not liked Helen from the moment she joined the unit, and it had manifested in a variety of ways, from sly, snarky comments to an actual physical confrontation when Helen had called Joan a cunt, and Joan had tried to punch her in the face. When Helen was trying to get her new program off the ground and chose Lydia as her first client, Lydia had initially refused to even speak with her. Helen found out later that she’d been warned off by Shell Dockley, who had been transferred into Holloway from the Fossmore psychiatric facility. Helen suspected that Joan, who had treated Shell several times for undetermined causes, had put Shell up to it, though Helen could never prove it.
Joan was no Fenner, but she was a snake just the same.
“She’ll have to get over it,” Helen managed finally. “I’m just getting started.”
“Good on you, Helen.” Dominic grinned. “Any idea where you’ll go from here?”
“I want to bring in a program that deals with National Vocational Qualifications,” Helen said. “Here, look at this.”
Dominic leaned closer to see the computer screen and for the next little while, he and Helen discussed her ideas. Sometimes it felt as if she wasn’t accomplishing much in the sprawling edifice that was the prison management of the Home Office, but every so often, Helen would catch a glint of light and it was enough to keep her fighting on, even in the darkness.
But there was a lot of paperwork, most of it tedious, and by the time she left work at five, she was knackered. She was more than glad to enter her flat where the delicious aroma of roast chicken greeted her, along with a kiss and hug from Nikki. Nikki frowned when she drew back to look down at Helen, studying her face.
“Bad day?”
“Probably just the letdown after yesterday’s excitement,” Helen said, dropping her head to rest it on Nikki’s shoulder. “Not bad, just long.”
“Well, you’re home now,” Nikki muttered, nuzzling into Helen’s ear. “Dinner will be ready in twenty.”
Helen hugged her back. “You’re too good to me, you know?”
“I know,” Nikki agreed amiably. “Go get changed. You’ll feel better once you’re off your feet.”
Helen kissed her happily, and headed for the bedroom where she changed from her work clothes into a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, padding back to the kitchen, the tile cool beneath her bare feet. Nikki was right. The tensions of the day eased with every minute of being home, and having Nikki there granted a lightness that made Helen feel as if she’d shed three stone in ten minutes. While she set the table, basking in the familiar comfort of domestic unity, Nikki brought out bowls of mashed potatoes, gravy and veggies, then went back for the chicken.
“This is a feast,” Helen said as she sat down. “What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion, just needed the leftovers,” Nikki said. “Don’t plan to be cooking for the rest of the week.”
“Fair enough.” Helen filled her plate. “How was your day?”
“Nothing major,” Nikki said, then paused. “Kate’s been nicked. Leedham stopped by for breakfast and filled me in.”
“Oh.” Helen absorbed that. “You were worried that might happen. So was Monica.”
“I knew that there’d be a hell of a lot of temptation there. I’m sorry I was right.”
“Are you planning to do anything about it?”
“Not really my business,” Nikki said. “Kate made it clear when she left that she was glad to be doing something better than waiting tables in a café. And it’s not like she’s bothered to stay in touch with the rest of us since.”
Helen studied Nikki closely. “Still, you liked her a lot.”
Nikki shrugged. “Just because I like her doesn’t mean I’m her keeper. And I still have my own to worry about. I can’t be chasing after people who’ve moved on.”
“You’re not wrong,” Helen said sympathetically. “Sometimes you have to balance what you can do with what's expedient.”
Nikki didn’t respond to that, refocusing on her dinner, but Helen could see the little furrow between her eyebrows and knew she was still bothered by it. She’d learned not to offer advice until Nikki had it straight in her own mind, so she let it go for the time being and enjoyed the rest of her meal.
As they relaxed over dessert, a strawberry cake and cream combination that was superb, Helen brought up something that she’d been thinking about all day, and wasn’t sure how it would be received.
“I want to go to the funeral.”
Nikki looked up at Helen, startled. “What funeral?”
“Fenner’s. I know it might be a while before they release the body, but when they do, I want to go.”
“What in God’s name for?” Nikki’s tone was a combination of skepticism and dismay, as was her expression.
Helen was momentarily stymied by the question. “For closure, I reckon,” she said.
Nikki frowned at her, but then she put down her fork and leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table and giving Helen her full attention. “Are you sure? His people will probably be there. He had a son, didn’t he? Don’t you think it might get a bit awkward? And his friends in the screw business? They might know you and he didn’t get along.”
Helen hadn’t thought of that. She wasn’t used to thinking of Fenner as being human, in fact, but all those years ago when she first met him, he was married with kids. He hadn’t even been all that bad then. Not a good person by any means, but far from the evil prat he eventually turned into. And God knew, there was a misogynistic seam in Area Management that accepted and even liked slime like Fenner. He certainly hadn’t been appointed temporary Number One because they understood what a complete and utter monster he was.
“Well, I was a colleague. It wouldn’t be unusual if I attended. They might think of it as a gesture of respect. They don’t need to know why I’m really there.”
“Respect? God, I’d hate for anyone to think that was why you were there.”
“I’d know,” Helen assured her.
Nikki looked as if she didn’t know what else to say. She apparently realized Helen was being totally serious about this. “Do you expect me to go?” she asked finally.
Helen blinked. She hadn’t even considered Nikki not being there. “I hoped you would. It might give you a little closure, too.”
Nikki took a moment, and prudently, Helen didn’t say anything, waiting for Nikki to wrap her head around it. It had been a painful lesson to learn, but it was best to give Nikki some space when she was dealing with difficult emotional situations.
“All right, I reckon it wouldn’t hurt to see him planted once and for all,” Nikki said finally. She pierced Helen with a sharp look. “But no scenes.”
Helen was taken aback. “Why would I make a scene?”
Nikki snorted. “Are you kidding? Remember your dad’s funeral?”
“I wouldn’t,” Helen said in a wounded tone. “We’ll just stand in the back. No one will even notice us.”
Nikki looked as if she doubted that, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she picked up her fork and resumed her dessert. Helen wondered why Nikki thought she’d make a scene.
That wasn’t like Helen at all.
Nikki was not at all happy about this idea of Helen’s, but with any luck, they’d be able to get in and get out without anything untoward happening. And Helen was right in a way. It would be good to see the bastard in his coffin. She just wished the weather was better. Of course, it would be pissing down rain. She didn’t think she’d ever gone to a funeral when it wasn’t.
She parked her Porsche in the car park by the crematorium, eyeing the rest of the vehicles. A decent turnout, she thought. She wondered how many attended because they were sorry to see him go and how many were like her and Helen, there to make sure they were finally rid of him once and for all.
Opening her brolly, she went around the car and opened Helen’s car door, not out of any sense of chivalry, but because Helen wasn’t getting out until Nikki had the umbrella there to protect her from the rain. They were both dressed in professional black power suits, Nikki in pants, and Helen in a skirt. It was a bit too warm this September day to be wearing the blazers and she hoped desperately for air conditioning inside.
The crematorium was a little shabby and it made Nikki wonder about Fenner’s life outside of the prison. It wasn’t anything she had bothered with before. He never seemed driven by money. It always felt to her that he was awful simply for the sake of being awful. So, while it was clear his family wasn’t putting much out for his departure, she wasn’t sure if that was a matter of not having much, or if they simply didn’t want to waste it on him.
“There’s Will Hollingsworth,” Helen muttered as they ascended the staircase fronting the large brick building with large walls. It looked more like a prison than a mortuary. “Thought he retired.” She went on to identify a few more people, none of whom Nikki recognized or cared to, considering the disdainful tone in Helen’s voice.
As they entered the foyer, Nikki blinked at the décor. It was airy but impersonal, like a chain hotel lobby, representative of a kind of death services industry. To the right, there was a book on an ornate writing desk where people were signing their names to indicate they had attended in the event anyone was paying attention. Nikki wasn’t sure she should, but she followed Helen as she went over to the table without hesitation, picking up the pen and writing her signature with a flourish.
Please, please let us get out of here without a scene, Nikki prayed as she wrote her name neatly under Helen’s defiant scrawl. Then they were funneled into the Chapel of Rest where the coffin was laid out. It wasn’t a big room, and the lack of windows made it seem stuffy and still. To Nikki’s surprise, the top part of the coffin was open, which was unusual, and there he was, dressed in a suit and tie, face waxy and slack.
As they passed by the coffin, Nikki eyed him, wondering at the lack of emotion she felt. There was no sense of pleasure or sadness, no rush of joy or regret. She wondered if that was because she was beyond it now, had reached that closure long ago and this was merely an indulgence that wasn’t necessary.
Helen, on the other hand, glared at him as if willing him to rise just so she could put him down again. The line of her jaw was set, and her eyes were narrow and cold. Nikki had to nudge her to move along and let the people behind them have their turn at the viewing.
In the Hall where the service was being held, they slid into a pew at the back of the room. As she looked around, Nikki spotted Karen Betts a few rows up, and next to her was Neil Grayling. She nudged Helen with her elbow, and gestured with her chin. Helen followed the gesture and her eyebrows went up in interest. They exchanged glances and settled into their seats, waiting for the service to start.
Nikki knew that Fenner had put Karen in the frame for a hit and run, making it seem as if she’d been behind the wheel when it had actually been him driving. Karen had been arrested, charged, and was on the brink of going to court when she managed to find evidence that put him in cuffs instead. He’d been sent to prison, but didn’t stay long. Di had sworn she was with him at the time and it was somehow enough to get him off. Di had since been arrested, charged and remanded in custody for Fenner’s murder and was now being held in Larkhall, of all places. Nikki wasn’t sure it was supposed to work that way, but for whatever reason, Di had insisted on returning to the scene of the crime.
Neil Grayling, meanwhile, had been married to Di, as well, even though he was as gay as Nikki, and had been accused by Fenner of sexually harassing him. It had nearly got him sacked at the time, though Fenner subsequently going to jail for the hit and run had managed to reinstate him. Nikki couldn’t figure out how these men were accused of such crimes and not only managed to keep their jobs, they ended up escaping all consequences. Though in Neil’s case, he’d since been demoted because of the Costa Cons escaping on his watch, but that was probably because he was gay rather than because he was incompetent. If he’d been straight, they might have given kept him in office. It was insane and she had no idea why Helen kept working for the Home Office.
“Nikki Wade.”
Nikki felt that rasp along every last nerve she had and she looked over to see Sylvia Hollamby regarding her and Helen with a disgusted expression.
“Bodybag,” Nikki returned with a sneer. She felt Helen grasp her forearm and thought it was rich that Helen was trying to calm her down. She swallowed back the first thing that popped into her head, and with an effort, dialed back the contempt. Unfortunately, that left her with nothing to say, so she just glared at Sylvia.
“I’m surprised to see you two here,” Sylvia went on.
“I did work with the man,” Helen said, injecting a note of calm in her voice. “I know you two were friends. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Sylvia appeared stymied by this, as was Nikki who looked at her partner in astonishment, but Helen simply maintained a bland expression and Sylvia moved on without saying anything else, prompted by a young man taking her by the elbow.
“All right, Bobbie,” she querulously, “I’m coming.”
“That’s her son,” Helen said quietly once they had moved to the front of the room and were out of earshot.
“Yeah?” Nikki said, not especially interested.
“He’s having it on with Grayling.”
Gobsmacked, Nikki stared at her. “You’re just telling me this now? Her son’s gay?”
Hollamby had never made any secret of her homophobia. That her son, the apple of his mother’s eye, had turned out gay must be sheer torture for Bodybag. For Nikki, that was almost as good as Fenner being topped. There was a purpose to coming to this spectacle after all, she decided as she fought to keep the smile off her face.
“I thought you knew,” Helen muttered. “Dominic told me months ago.”
“Do you think I know every gay person in London?”
“No,” Helen said, though in the sort of tone that indicated she might have entertained the idea.
Nikki rolled her eyes and focused her attention on Grayling, delighted when she saw him and Bobbie exchange a sly glance, Bobbie looking over his shoulder at the older man. Hollamby’s head was facing ahead and she was very deliberately not looking over at her son, so Nikki knew Bodybag had to be aware of it, too. This was better than Top of the Pops.
“Quit staring,” Helen said out the side of her mouth.
Nikki snickered and turned her attention to the front of the room where the minister had taken the podium. He spoke about Fenner and it didn’t take long to realize that not only didn’t he know the man, he’d probably never ever met him. Glancing around, Nikki suspected that the eye rolling was epidemic, particularly amongst those who had known Fenner and despised him.
Fenner’s son got up and said a few nice things about his father, though Nikki sensed he was reaching as much as the minister had. He was the only one who bothered and in record time, things wrapped up. Nikki and Helen didn’t bother to stand in line to shake hands with the relatives. There was a limit to one’s hypocrisy, after all.
Out in the car park, Nikki sat against the front of her Porsche, relieved that the rain had stopped while Helen paused to speak with someone she knew. Sylvia and Bobbie came out of the building and Nikki saw her face curdle as she spotted Nikki. Then her expression changed to confusion as she realized the expensive car belonged to Nikki. Nikki laughed quietly as Helen joined her.
“What?”
“What is it they say? Living well is the best revenge?” Nikki smirked.
“I’m not sure,” Helen responded, confused.
Across the lot, Karen and Neil were speaking together for a moment, before Neil went off, leaving Karen by herself. She pulled out a mobile, probably about to call a cab when she looked up, meeting Nikki’s eyes. Surprise ghosted over her face, especially when she shifted her gaze to Helen standing by Nikki’s side, holding her hand. She blinked and put away her phone as she walked toward them.
“Nikki,” she greeted. “Helen. Nice to see you.”
“Good to see you out and about,” Nikki said when Helen didn’t seem inclined to respond. “Enjoy the service?”
“Wasn’t really here for the ceremony,” Karen said. “Just for confirmation. You?”
“I’m just here to make sure the bastard’s really dead,” Nikki said laconically. “Helen’s come to dance on his grave.”
“Well, she’ll have to stand in line,” Karen said, shooting Helen a look and a small smile, one that was not returned.
“Really? You couldn’t prop him up enough when I knew you,” Helen said acidly.
Nikki cast a glance to the heavens. This was not going to end well.
Karen’s smile disappeared. “I assure you, I learned my lesson.” Karen put out her hand, almost as an appeal. “You warned me, Helen. I didn’t listen.”
“What happened to that assault report I filed?” Helen said. Her jaw was set and Nikki knew she wasn’t about to let it go. “That could have put an end to him years ago.”
Karen winced, guilt obvious in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Did you misfile it, or did you just stand there and watch as Fenner lost it?” Helen was practically vibrating, she was so angry. Nikki wasn’t sure if she should try to intervene or just stay out of it lest that scorching Scottish temper be turned on her.
“Look, I’m willing to admit I was a fool when it came to him,” Karen said, her own temper starting to spark. “But he took everything away from me, my job, my reputation, nearly my freedom. You look like you got out with no consequence.”
“None of that would have happened if you’d jus—” Helen began hotly.
“How about I buy you beautiful ladies a drink,” Nikki said, abruptly throwing an arm around each woman’s shoulder and neatly inserting herself between them before it came to blows. “There’s a pub down the way. You both have plenty of reason to hate Fenner. Let’s agree to that, at least. Everything else is better discussed over a pint, yeah?”
Karen seemed so surprised by Nikki grabbing her that other than one very startled sideways look, she subsided and seemed willing to go along with it. Helen was a lot more resistant, but after looking at Nikki’s face, she seemed to realize that she’d grown a little out of hand and it was time to cool off. She allowed Nikki to propel her down the pavement toward the pub at the end of the block.
Nikki heaved a silent sigh of relief and prayed that alcohol wouldn’t prove to be akin to throwing petrol onto a camp fire.
The pub was smoky, but not too busy. Helen suspected that would change as more people left the funeral and noticed the pub down the street. She was still angry, but she realized it really wasn’t Karen she was mad at. It was Fenner. There was no closure, just this complex fury that made her stomach ache.
She looked across the table at Karen, while Nikki gathered their drinks, a vodka for Helen and a gin & tonic for Karen. “Sorry I was stroppy.”
Karen nodded. “Me, too. It’s Fenner. Makes me want to lash out.”
“Yeah.”
“Here we go,” Nikki said as she put the drinks on the table, a tiny note of desperate cheer in her voice, undoubtedly in hopes she wouldn’t have to separate Helen and Karen again. As designated driver, she had ordered a ginger ale with lime for herself.
Helen slid over to give Nikki room to sit beside her, welcoming the touch of her body against hers. Karen, watching them curiously, lifted her glass. “So, you two made it.”
“So far,” Helen said.
“Oi,” Nikki said, looking at her.
“Sorry,” Helen said bashfully. “I’m in a mood.”
Karen laughed. Surprised, Helen glanced at her, and then smiled, despite herself. “What?”
“You sound married,” Karen said. “In a good way. I’m happy for you both. Really.”
“Not legal yet, but someday,” Nikki said, carelessly.
Helen shot a look at her, a little surprised, but mostly intrigued. Nikki became aware of her gaze, and squirmed a bit, but not much. Karen lifted her glass a little higher.
“To the future,” she said. “One without that bastard hanging about.”
“I can drink to that,” Nikki said, lifting her own.
Helen took a long swallow of her drink, appreciating the sentiment. “So, what are you doing, now?”
“That’s the thing,” Karen said, mouth twisting as if tasting something bad. “Thanks to the frame up, my reputation is shit. I can’t sniff a job.”
“I have a bistro,” Nikki offered cheerfully. “We’re expanding. Any good at waiting tables?”
“Nikki!” Helen looked at her.
“Don’t you dare imply that’s somehow beneath being a screw,” Nikki said, her tone light, but with the slightest hint of affront.
Helen realized she had overstepped. “I wasn’t,” she protested, even though that was exactly what she’d been implying.
Karen chuckled. “Hey, at this point, waiting tables sounds good.”
“And you’ll still be surrounded by cons,” Nikki added.
At Karen’s blank expression, Helen clarified. “Nikki hires women who are fresh out of prison. Gives them a fresh start.”
“It’s part of Monica Lyndsay’s foundation,” Nikki added. She paused, looking thoughtful. “You probably don’t know her, she was out before you started. Anyway, she’s put her money into helping women in prison find their way on the outside.”
“I’m impressed,” Karen said. “Just goes to show that the prisoners end up doing more good outside the system than all of us inside it.”
Helen wondered if she should put a word in with Della about bringing Karen onto the Policies Unit, but was reluctant to bring it up. Not only might it sound even more provocative to Nikki after what she’d already said, Helen wasn’t sure she could tolerate working with Karen again, should Della make it happen. Instead, she signaled for another round.
“So, Di topped him,” Nikki said after the drinks were deposited. “Didn’t think she had it in her.”
“I still don’t think that,” Helen said. “But apparently there’s gobs of evidence.”
“Ha, if he wasn’t dead, I’d think he set her up for it,” Karen said. Her second drink went down quicker than the first. “Seriously, if you think I propped him up, it’s nothing compared to what she did for him. You should have seen her at Neil Grayling’s hearing.”
“I heard,” Helen said, taking a final swallow from her vodka and surprised to find it already empty. “It certainly turned around in a hurry. Dom told me CCTV caught her keying Fenner’s car with a death threat in Larkhall’s car park.”
“Not exactly smart.” Karen finished her gin and called for another.
“Di was never the brightest,” Nikki said. “And there was always something desperate about her. Still, she did the world a favor.”
“Too right,” Karen said.
Another round was ordered, and by now, Helen was starting to feel rather good about everything. She was even regarding Karen with relative amiability. Nikki’s body was warm against her side, comforting in its solidarity, and it was finally sinking in that Jim Fenner was dead and gone. Perhaps it wasn’t so much closure she needed, as it was allowing herself to let go of the past, not just with Fenner, but her anger at Karen, and with everything else that she’d tangled with during that time. She had to accept that life was good for her now, and there was no reason that would stop.
After a few more drinks during which several stories were swapped about the old days in Larkhall that left them all in tears of laughter, Nikki finally decided to call it a night. Helen leaned unsteadily against the brick wall of the pub, watching as Nikki poured Karen into a cab, paying the driver extra to make sure she made it home safe. Then Nikki helped Helen back to the car park, holding her up as they staggered to the Porsche before maneuvering her into the passenger seat with no little difficulty.
“I’m going to regret this in the morning,” Helen muttered as she leaned against the window, the glass cool on her face.
“Too right,” Nikki said.
The next morning was as bad as Helen had predicted, but at least she managed to get up and dress for work. Nikki had left pills and water on the nightstand, along with some breakfast on the counter that Helen managed to choke down, knowing she needed the nourishment.
The computer screen at work seemed too bright, and she squinted as she tried to write up the prospective for her next client. She was glad for the break when Dominic stopped by.
“How was the funeral?”
“Grim,” Helen said. “But he’s definitely dead. They had an open casket.”
“Why? No one does that.” Dominic plopped in his chair.
“Not sure. Maybe to prove he was gone.”
The phone buzzed and Helen held up a finger for Dominic to hold on as she answered it. “Stewart.”
“Helen, it’s Thomas.”
Thomas Waugh was the consultant at Fossmore, a psychiatric facility for women who were too much at risk to remain in the wards at the prisons. He was also Helen’s ex-lover, and working with him had offered its own set of problems at times.
“What can I do for you?” Helen’s tone was cool. They hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms the last time they had worked together. Of course, Shell Dockley had been the client in that instance, and things never went well when she was involved.
“I’ve just had Julie Johnson come in,” he said. “I know she was one of Nikki’s friends when they were in Larkhall together.”
“Julie? Oh my God. What’s wrong?”
“She’s been displaying disassociate behavior, a detachment from reality,” he said. “Apparently, she’s had a complete psychotic break.” He hesitated. “I was wondering if you wanted to consult. You know her, and your familiarity with Larkhall might be crucial in formulating a treatment.”
“Of course,” Helen said, stunned. “I’ll be by tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Helen. I appreciate it.”
She hung up the phone and stared at Dominic who was regarding her curiously.
“Julie J was just admitted to Fossmore,” she told him.
His head went back, clearly as surprised as she’d been. “The Julies seemed the most sensible of the lot,” he said. “Julie J most of all.” He shook his head. “I guess prison does everyone in.”
“Thomas has asked me to consult,” Helen said. “Hopefully, I’ll be able to discover the story behind it.” She paused, sighing. “Nikki’s going to be gutted.”
The drive home was too short, something that Helen had never regretted before. She hated breaking bad news to Nikki. She’d had to do it too many times over the years and it never grew any easier to see that darkness in her eyes as she absorbed yet one more punch.
Trudging up the pavement, Helen tried to figure out the best way to tell her, constructing several conversational forays, all of which disappeared as soon as she walked into the flat and saw Nikki’s face. She was on the sofa, blueprints for the Libertà expansion spread out on the coffee table in front of her, and her eyes lit up as she saw Helen. Swallowing, Helen dropped her briefcase and purse on the table and willingly stepped into Nikki’s welcoming embrace, hugging her tightly.
She felt a bit cowardly but it felt so good to be in Nikki’s arms that she decided to tell her after dinner. In the meantime, she wanted to bask in the love surrounding her like the golden heat of sunlight.
“You’re affectionate,” Nikki noted with a quiet murmur. “Rough day? Or are you still suffering from a hangover.”
“Cheeky sod.”
Nikki laughed low and kissed her, taking her time. Did other people greet each other like this, Helen wondered, even years in? Or was it just because she and Nikki had begun their relationship in prison where they couldn’t touch each other? Where the most they could do was offer a smile upon meeting, and even that had to be careful in case anyone took notice. Now they took full advantage of the freedom to hug and kiss every time they met up with each other, to reaffirm their relationship in physical touch the way they never could in Larkhall.
And that relationship was based on honesty, Helen thought. Drawing back, she looked up into Nikki’s dark eyes. “I have something to tell you,” she said.
Nikki’s smile faded at her serious tone. “Yeah?”
As gently as possible, Helen told her about Julie J. She had been right. Nikki was gutted, sitting back down on the couch as if all the strength had left her. Helen sat beside her, wrapping her arm around her shoulders, hugging her tight.
“Will you be able to help her?” Nikki’s voice was very small.
“We’ll do our best, Nikki,” Helen said seriously. “And you know I’ll make sure she gets the best care.”
“I have to see her.”
Helen hesitated. “I don’t know, Nikki.”
“Please, Helen.”
Helen didn’t think it was such a good idea, but she couldn’t deny Nikki much in moments like these. “Only if it doesn’t interfere in her treatment.”
Nikki nodded. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to make it worse,” she said brokenly. “But if you can?”
Helen kissed her on the temple. “I’ll see what I can do, love,” she promised.
Nikki’s hands were damp and she wiped them uneasily on the legs of her trousers. Fossmore wasn’t at all like Larkhall. It was recently build, modern and painfully clean. The guard standing by the door of the waiting area looked frighteningly competent. Nikki was worried that she’d made a mistake in asking Helen to get her in, and if it had been anyone but one of the Julies, she wouldn’t have pressed it. But she had, and Helen had come through, mostly because Thomas had suggested that seeing Nikki might help Julie. It seemed that Julie had reverted to an earlier time in her life, to a time when she had been Sonya Dawson and walked the streets. She didn’t even comprehend where she was, and she’d frequently hallucinate that her children were with her, the same age they’d been when she’d first been banged up. Thomas hoped that seeing Nikki, someone who’d been with her in Larkhall but hadn’t seen her recently, would jog something, enable them to draw her back to the present, or at least, temporarily pull her out of her delusional state.
Nikki didn’t know if she wanted to see Julie like that, but if just visiting her could help, then she was more than willing to give it a go. She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm as she waited for Helen to come get her, sitting in an upholstered chair that was just uncomfortable enough to leave her on edge. There were two more beige chairs in the waiting area, and a glass coffee table with a couple of magazines. It felt more like a doctor’s office than a prison. At the far end of the room, a reception desk guarded the doors leading into the facility, though there was no one manning it. There was just the guard by the door, a muscular, dark-haired man with a square jaw and a neat mustache. He didn’t look at Nikki, though she suspected he was fully aware of her.
The door opened and Helen appeared, carrying a file folder. Nikki stood up as she approached, feeling nervous again.
“Ready?”
“No, but let’s get on with it,” Nikki said, hearing a quiver in her tone and unable to do anything about it.
“First, you need to sign these,” Helen said, opening the folder and placing some papers on the coffee table.
“What are they?” Nikki looked them over, not able to decipher the wealth of legalese.
“Julie is under psychiatric care now, which means everything that goes on must be protected by patient confidentiality, including your visit with her.”
“So, anything she says won’t leave this place?”
“Yes.”
Nikki looked Helen in the eye. “What if she says she’s being treated like shit?”
Helen exhaled. “She’s not.” She put her hand on Nikki’s elbow, squeezing lightly. “Trust me on this. It’s to protect her, not the institution. It’s so that if she says anything incriminating while mentally incompetent, it won’t be logged in her prison record. Because you’re a civilian, this prevents you from testifying, or being forced to testify about anything you might hear during your visit.”
“What about you?”
“As consultant, I’m already included in the confidentiality agreement.”
Nikki hesitated, and then signed the papers. She might not trust them, but she did trust her partner. After she finished, Helen gathered up the papers, put them back in the folder and motioned to the door. “This way.”
Swallowing hard, Nikki followed Helen through the door and into a corridor. The floor was hard tile, and Helen’s boot heels rapped sharply against it as they walked down the hall.
“Bit grim,” Nikki muttered. “Clean, though.”
“It’s a good facility,” Helen said. “Top notch management. It’s good that Julie was sent here. There are worst places.”
She stopped at one of the many doors lining the hall, knocked sharply, and then let herself in. Thomas was behind the desk, a dark-haired lanky man that always looked as if he was all elbows and knees. The office was all browns and greens, masculine, but not overly so. Nikki liked it, though she wasn’t overly fond of Waugh. It wasn’t that he was an awful bloke, but the fact that he and Helen had once been together made Nikki grit her teeth every time she encountered him. Still, he was helping Julie and that raised her regard for him, even if it was only a marginal increase.
“So, Nikki, we’re hoping that seeing you will adjust Julie’s perception,” he said after standing up and shaking her hand. “If we can discover what triggered her psychotic break, it'll be easier for us to help her.”
“What makes you think she’ll tell me?” Nikki asked, doubtful about the whole process.
“We don’t,” Helen said. “But if she recognizes you, perhaps she’ll feel safe enough to acknowledge a time closer than what she perceives now.”
“What do you want me to do?” Nikki squared her shoulders, determined to see this through, regardless of how difficult it was.
“Just talk to her,” Thomas said. “As you would normally. And go with the flow of the conversation. It might not work, but we’re hopeful.”
“Fine,” Nikki said. “Let’s get on with it.”
They led Nikki to a room where Julie was staying. It was bland, with cream walls and a hard cement floor. But the bed appeared decent, the cell was clean, and it had a big window that looked out over the lush green of lawns and garden, even if the glass was embedded with wires to prevent its breakage. In addition to the bed, there was a bureau and an upholstered beige chair, the same kind that had been in the waiting area. They must get a deal on them in bulk, Nikki thought.
Julie was sitting on the bed, dressed in plain, tan shirt and trousers, with brown slippers on her feet. She looked thin and ragged, sinews visible in her neck and hands that were lying listlessly on her lap. Her blonde hair had the consistency of straw and her blue eyes seemed dull and lifeless. They shifted as Nikki entered the room, looking her over as a sneer lifted one side of her mouth. It was clear she didn’t recognize her.
“Wot the hell do you want?” Her voice was harsh, aggressive.
Nikki had intended to be gentle, to be slow in her approach. Instead, what flew out her mouth was, “Bloody hell, Jules, what’re you playing at? Trying for a section?”
Julie frowned, blinked, looked briefly dazed before her eyes cleared, sharpening visibly. “Nikki?”
Nikki relaxed and sat down in the chair. It was easy to fall back into the slouch she’d had in Larkhall, the careless confident swagger of a lifer with not much left to lose. “Feeling a bit off?”
Julie looked around. “Yeah, a little.” She hesitated. “Where are we? What part of Larkhall is this?”
Nikki looked up at the ceiling, as if evaluating it, though she was really looking at the camera which she knew Helen and Thomas was monitoring. “Muppet wing,” she said finally.
“Christ, how’d we end up here?”
“Don’t know,” Nikki said honestly. “Bad fish, maybe?”
Julie smiled. “Can’t be that. All the food’s bad. We’d all be in here.”
“Yeah.”
Julie looked at her. “Those are nice clothes.”
Nikki looked down at her black leather jacket, light blue shirt and jeans. She’d dressed casual but the garments were of far better quality than anything she wore in Larkhall. “Well, I’m out now, ain’t I?”
Julie frowned, looked puzzled again, and then nodded. “Yeah, you did get out. Yvonne said you’d better not come back. What are you doing here?”
“Came to see you, didn’t I? Heard you were having a few problems.”
Julie considered that. “Guess I was. I kept seeing him everywhere, Nik.”
Nikki frowned. “Who?”
“Fenner.”
“That bastard,” Nikki said. It was automatic, a conditioned response she could no more control than she could her heartbeat. She paused, not sure she should say anything more, but Thomas implied it was unlikely she could make things worse. “He got topped, you know.”
“I know,” Julie said. She leaned forward and unconsciously, Nikki mimicked her, knowing she was going to reveal something confidential. “I did it.”
Nikki blinked. “Did what?”
“Topped him,” Julie said. Her tone was a mix of bravado and fear. “So, Julie wouldn’t. I couldn’t bear for her to go down for it so I did it first.”
Nikki was having trouble wrapping her head around this. “You topped him?”
“Yeah, I dug an icicle out of the cooler and stuck him with it. He deserved to die, Nikki. He killed Yvonne, locked her in the hanging cell and left her to starve. Everything else he’s done, to you, to Rachel, to Shell, to all of us…I couldn’t let him get away with it. I couldn’t help myself. I had to do it. I stabbed him right in the neck. I watched the pathetic shit die, I dropped the ice and I ran. It was the perfect murder weapon. It melted into water.”
Nikki didn’t quite know how to reply to that. “The coppers think Di Barker did it.”
Julie’s face saddened. “Yeah, I tried to tell the screws different, but no one believes me.”
Nikki stared at her. Julie wasn’t the sort to take the piss like that. If she said she did it in that tone of voice, then she did it. It wasn’t a delusion. It was fact. And while others might not understand the lengths in which either Julie would go, Nikki knew that if they felt threatened, or if they felt the other was threatened, then both Julies would do what they had to. If no one believed it, then that was on them.
“I believe you,” she said with complete seriousness. She paused. “Don’t worry, I won’t grass you up.”
Julie looked lost. “You should. I did a bad thing.”
“Maybe, but you did it for the right reasons.” Nikki reached over and took Julie’s hand, squeezing lightly. “Even so, I reckon guilt is doing in your head.”
“It is,” Julie said. Her face crumpled and she began to cry. “What am I going to do, Nik?”
“Let Thomas and Helen help you,” Nikki said.
Julie looked around, confusion clouding her eyes again. “Miss Stewart? The wing governor?”
Afraid she was losing her again, Nikki squeezed her hand. “Not anymore,” she said. “Helen’s with me, now. She’s not a screw. She consults with your doctor.”
“The nice-looking fellow.”
Nikki thought that was being generous. “If you say so.”
Julie smiled. “He was in Larkhall.”
“For a while. Now he’s here.”
Julie frowned. “Where are we again?”
“Fossmore.”
“Shell was here. Now she’s in Holloway.”
“Yeah.”
Julie looked scared. “They won’t send me to Holloway?”
“No, you’ll be back in Larkhall. Back with Julie.”
She looked relieved. “Okay.”
“I gotta go, but Thomas is coming in to see you.”
“And he’s going to help me?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, Nikki.” Julie managed a smile. It wasn’t much of one, a bit tremulous. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Ah, Jules, it was good to see you, too,” Nikki said, reaching over and hugging her, heart breaking at how thin and fragile she felt. Julie hugged her back weakly.
Tears stung the back of Nikki’s eyes as she glanced back at Julie who suddenly looked very small and old sitting there in the impersonal room. She hadn’t reached the door when it opened and Thomas walked in, nodding at Nikki.
“Well done,” he muttered as he passed her.
“Cheers,” Nikki said. She felt guilty as the door shut behind her, and swallowed hard against the lump in her throat as she met Helen’s level, compassionate gaze. “You got all that?”
Helen nodded. “I did,” she said seriously. “If Julie killed Fenner, it would explain why her bi-polar condition triggered. It's a traumatic experience for someone who's not naturally violent, and the fact no one believed her when she was telling the truth only made it worse.” She stopped, shaking her head in disbelief. “So, Di didn’t do it.”
Nikki raked her hands through her hair, scratching the back of her neck. “Good thing we signed those papers, isn’t it?”
It had taken a few months, but Julie was finally diagnosed, treated and transferred back to Larkhall with instructions on how to manage her condition. Helen wasn’t entirely convinced that she would be able to in the confines of prison, but she hoped that somehow Julie would manage it, with Julie S’s help if nothing else. In any event, Julie J was now beyond her accountability and it was time to focus on the here and now, which including wrapping one final Christmas gift for Nikki.
The holiday season was special for them. Nikki closed the bistro for a week to give everyone some time off to be with their families. The Policies Unit shut down from Christmas Eve to New Year’s. Logically, it would be the one time in the year when they could go somewhere together, perhaps even someplace tropical, but the truth was, they loved staying home where they decorated the flat from one end to the other and spoiled each other outrageously. This year was even more special because Helen’s Aunt Moira was coming down from Scotland to spend the holidays with them.
Helen sat behind her desk, hearing the festivities going on out in the office as she tried to finish up the last of her paperwork before shutting down for the week. Dominic stuck his head in the door.
“You coming, Helen? The party’s started.”
“Give me a bit,” she said. “Just need to finish this.”
“Don’t be long. You’ll miss the secret Santa.”
Helen didn’t think she’d miss much. She’d had the unbelievable misfortune to draw Joan’s name from the pot, and with a ten-pound limit, she knew there wasn’t much she could get for her that wouldn’t be met with a sneer. The only thing that might be worse is if Joan had gotten her name in return. Helen couldn't imagine the gift given her in that instance, and how she would need to respond in a way that wouldn’t cause a row and ruin the party. Though Dominic would assure her that their conflicts were great entertainment either way.
Dominic disappeared and Helen typed furiously.
“Helen, are you coming?”
Helen looked up to see the Unit’s psychologist, Paul Davis. A weedy, balding man, his initial manner was a bit off putting, fussy and conservative, but once Helen had got to know him, she had discovered a dry wit and compassionate nature.
“In a minute, Paul,” she promised.
He nodded and left. Shaking in head, Helen read over the last bit, changing a couple of sentences.
“Helen, it’s not a party until you’re there.”
Helen looked up to see Della, grey-haired and stout, hovering in the doorway.
“Honestly, I’m on my way,” Helen said with long-suffering patience. “And since when did you need me to get the party started?”
“Since the barbeque in August when you fell in Paul’s pool.”
Helen put her hand over her face, still embarrassed. She didn’t do well with office dos. “How many times do I have to tell you, that was an accident.”
“You’re dragging Nikki in when she tried to help you out wasn’t,” Della reminded her. “Hey, did you notice it’s snowing?”
Helen blinked. “Is it?” She looked over her shoulder out the window, feeling a little qualm when she saw the tiny flakes whipping through the air. “When did that start? God, I hope the roads aren’t too bad.”
“Worried about getting stuck here?”
“No, I’m only ten minutes from home. But Nikki had to go all the way to the airport to pick up my aunt who’s down for the holidays.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Della said, in that reassuring way she had that made it impossible for Helen to argue with her. “Let’s go.”
Helen threw up her hands. “Fine. I’m coming.”
She saved her work, logged off her computer and rose from her desk, joining Della in the outer part of the office where a small tree had been set up, a spread of biscuits, sandwiches, and punch had been laid out on a table, and the rest of the staff were gathered around a radio playing Christmas music. Sarah, the bright and bubbly officer receptionist kept trying to get Dominic to dance but Helen suspected he hadn’t yet imbibed enough of the punch for that.
She wasn’t sure why they were having this little do in the office before they left for holiday break. Their official Christmas party had been held at Libertà a week earlier, complete with spouses, booze and unexpected bonuses in the form of £20 grocery gift cards. Unlike most offices, the Policies Unit made a habit of organizing socials for the staff, at least four big ones a year, once every quarter. Della liked to organize them, or assign one of the staff to host and organize them, believing it fostered a sense of teamwork. Helen thought it mixed the personal with the professional a bit too much, but it was Della’s unit and she wasn’t about to argue with her methods. Nor with the results she managed. It was the only department in the Home Office that seemed to accomplish anything.
Paul handed Helen and Della each a glass of punch. Helen looked at it and sniffed warily before taking a sip.
“It’s not spiked,” Paul said, a faint smile on his gaunt features. “We’re all driving home.”
“I didn’t imagine it was,” Helen said, smiling at him. She just hadn’t been sure what ghastly combination of juices and pop had been utilized to make it. She sipped it warily and decided it wasn’t too bad.
“All right, gather ‘round,” Della said, moving over to the tree. “Time to see what Santa brought.”
Helen noticed Joan rolling her eyes and determined that, despite her own sense of cynicism about these gatherings, she would be more gung-ho about them, just for spite. Of course, no one was more into them than Sarah, who happily handed out the presents while wearing a red Santa hat, jangly holiday themed jewelry and a truly ugly sweater with reindeer and attached bells that jingled with every motion. Helen felt positive plain in her wine blouse and navy power suit.
As she opened her own gift, a hot cookie USB cup warmer which meant she’d never be plagued with cold tea again, undoubtedly from Sarah, she kept half an eye on Joan. She had peeled back the paper to reveal a copy of Paul Hartley’s The Marmite Cookbook and was now staring at it in complete befuddlement.
Helen chalked that response up as a win. After another glass of the oddly flavored punch, a couple of biscuits and warm goodbye hugs to Della, Paul, Sarah and Dominic, Helen swept out of the office for the car park.
Snow was falling even harder now and she was glad of the winter tires as she navigated the short drive back to the flat. Parking across from the large building that used to house Chix, she felt a stab of sadness. The windows were boarded over and the neon sign had been taken down, though the construction company had yet to come in to make it over. The final night of the club a couple of months earlier had been packed, a drunken, merry farewell to Chix, attended by dozens of patrons who had not bothered to frequent it in years, but were apparently affected by its closing, nonetheless. Helen stayed sober that night and afforded Nikki a rare chance to indulge, which she had to the fullest. Then it had been Helen’s turn to try to get her inebriated lover home and honestly, if it hadn’t been for Claire and Trisha’s help, she wasn’t sure she would have managed it.
She was relieved to see Nikki’s car was already in the car park, and would have hastened her steps if it weren’t for the pavement, with the fresh layer of snow, being such a hazard. Nikki had come down and was waiting at the alley door, relieving Helen of her briefcase and purse and saving her from having to dig out her keycard.
“Thank you, love,” she said, depositing a kiss on Nikki’s cheek.
“Wouldn’t want you to fall on your arse.”
“This is beastly weather,” Helen said as she entered the flat. “I’m glad we’re all home.”
Then she spotted Moira, and was immediately swept up in a huge matronly embrace. The sister of Helen’s father, Moira was a travel author who had swept into an adolescent Helen’s life on varied occasions, bearing gifts, and excitement and much laughter. She had piles of snow-white hair and an ample bosom that Helen was pressed against, feeling cosseted and loved.
“Ooch, this is nothing, hens.” Moira’s bright eyes laughed at her niece once she released her. “A mere skiff.”
“In Scotland maybe,” Nikki said as she dumped Helen’s briefcase and purse on the table by the door. “This is London. We’re not up for this.”
“It’ll be fine,” Helen assured her aunt, though Moira didn’t look particularly concerned. “Even if we lose power, we still have the gas fireplace.”
“Still, I wanted to take you both over to Palmo’s for dinner tonight,” Nikki noted with a touch of regret.
“I’ll be here all week,” Moira said. “I doubt the snow will be.”
“Yeah, we can do it later.” Helen noted the two suitcases resting by the staircase. “Have you been here long?”
“Just got in ten minutes before you.” Nikki went into the kitchen. “Moira, Helen can show you where you’re sleeping. I’ll whip up something for dinner since we’re staying in.”
Helen took Moira by the elbow. “You’re upstairs,” she said, and then hesitated, looking at the stairs leading to the loft. She’d never noticed how steep they were before. “Unless you’d be more comfortable down here? Nikki and I can always take the guestroom.”
“Are you calling me old?” Moira’s tone was a combination of outrage and disdain. Helen wasn’t entirely sure it was feigned. Moira brushed by her and started up the stairs energetically. “I walk five miles over the moors every day. What do you do?”
Nikki laughed out loud from behind the island. “Not five miles, I can tell you that.”
Helen shot her a poisonous look as she gathered up Moira’s luggage and carried them up the stairs, but by the top, she was puffing. They were unexpectedly heavy, possibly filled with gifts, and as she lugged them into the guestroom, she barely had the strength left to place the bags gently by the bureau.
“You okay, Helen?” Moira asked casually from the loft as she checked out the guest bathroom.
“I’m fine,” Helen said with a touch of asperity. But she made a mental note that her New Year’s Eve resolution would include a gym membership.
Moira smiled as she entered the bedroom. “This flat is amazing. Very posh.”
“Nikki designed it,” Helen said with no little pride as she perched on the side of the bed. “And did most of the décor.”
Moira checked out the rocking chair in the corner, and then settled into it with a satisfied smile. “You’ve a treasure there.”
“I know it,” Helen agreed. “Honestly, I couldn’t be happier.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Moira said. “It’s so lovely to see you let someone in like this. She’s gone through all your walls.”
“No walls left,” Helen admitted. “She knocked them down before I even realized she was there.”
“So now it’s only a matter of time,” Moira said sagely.
Helen was confused. “Before what?”
“Before it’s legal. It’s a shame it’s taking this long.”
“Well, we can do the civil partnership,” Helen said. “We’ve discussed making up a contract, mostly because of the legal bits. For the money and deed to the flat and things.”
“Oooch, that’s not romantic.” Moira looked horrified.
Helen squirmed a little as a small box burned a hole in her pocket, wishing her aunt hadn’t brought it up. She was going to have a hard-enough time keeping a lid on it as it was. “We’re not… Romance isn’t that important.”
Moira looked at her with that gaze, the one Helen could never dodge. “It’s important, Helen,” Moira said in a serious tone. “Even if you don’t think so, it’s important for Nikki.”
Helen didn’t even bother to wonder how her aunt knew that. She just sighed. “You’re right, Aunt Moira. You always are.”
Nikki could hear Helen and her aunt upstairs, not the words, but certainly, the laughter. It warmed her heart to know Helen had at least one family member who loved her unconditionally, who would always be there for her. With both of her parents’ dead, Helen needed that bit of blood tie that no other relationship could offer.
Nikki didn’t have any ties, so she knew how important it was. Her parents had thrown her out when she was sixteen because she’d told them she preferred women to men. She hadn’t seen either of them since, nor her older brother. Her current family was made up of friends, but sometimes, especially in the early years, she’d felt that lack of family keenly, piercing her heart with icy pain. Having Helen had made up for it in a lot of ways, though Nikki didn’t know what she would do if she ever lost her. It scared her sometimes when she thought about it in her lowest moments.
Shaking off her melancholy, Nikki assembled the ingredients on her cutting board, leftovers she’d recovered from the fridge, into a quick casserole, and put some salted water on the stove-top to boil for the penne. Tomorrow, Christmas Eve afternoon, they would be off to the church where Barbara Hunt’s husband, Henry, was vicar. Helen sang in the choir and Nikki suspected Moira would be well chuffed to see her niece perform. Then they would do a round of visiting and dropping off presents to various friends, before heading to Claire’s flat for dinner.
Nikki and Helen had created a tradition for themselves where they exchanged one gift at midnight before going to bed. Last year, Helen had opened a tiny box to reveal a set of keys for a new Peugeot. For a long moment, Nikki had been worried she wouldn’t accept it, that there’d be a Christmas row, but then Helen had smiled and hugged Nikki, thanking her with a sweet kiss.
This year, Nikki had limited it to a nice necklace and matching earrings. Helen wasn’t as resistant to jewelry and clothing, possibly because she didn’t know how much they were worth. Besides, with Chix gone and Libertà not yet expanded, Nikki didn’t have as much coming in as she once had. Not that she was skint by any means, but a little restraint was in order. She didn’t worry about what Helen would have for her. Her gifts were always thoughtful and personal, a special book or framed photo for Nikki’s office, perhaps a memento of some special event that was always surprising, but deeply felt.
Nikki knew Helen was a much better gift giver than she was. All she had was money and fashion sense. Helen was the one who gave with her heart. She just couldn’t see it in herself for some reason.
Nikki looked up and smiled as Moira and Helen finally clattered down the stairs. Helen excused herself to go into the bedroom to change out of her work clothes while Moira slipped onto one of the stools at the island.
“Looks delicious, Nikki,” Moira said approvingly as Nikki slid over a glass of wine.
“It’s got cheese,” Nikki said with a shrug. “That always makes it edible.”
Moira laughed and took an appreciative swallow of her wine.
After a dinner lingered over as Moira shared some more wonderful stories of Helen as a child, making Nikki laugh and Helen squirm, they retired to the living room where the tree was set up, festooned with lights and balls and tinsel. Gaily wrapped gifts crowded beneath it and as Moira added her pile, Nikki sat on the couch, Helen settling naturally at her side, snuggling close as they enjoyed their drinks. Outside the large windows fronting the flat that looked out over the street, snow continued to fall, the wind whistling faintly beneath the quiet sound of carols playing on the stereo.
Nikki turned her head and nuzzled into the soft mat of Helen’s chestnut hair, thinking that there must be a law against feeling this content. It was something she never thought she would ever have during all those long years at Larkhall and she closed her eyes to keep the sudden tears from escaping. Helen seemed to sense Nikki was feeling sensitive and she took her hand, lacing their fingers together as she told Moira, who had seated herself comfortably in the armchair, all about the choir and the service they would be attending the following day.
“You were quiet after dinner,” Helen noted as they readied for bed a couple of hours later. “Is everything okay?”
Nikki glanced at her. “Just chuffed with everything,” she said. “So much that I was afraid I’d start blubbering if I spoke up. Didn’t want to look stupid in front of Moira”
Helen absorbed that. “Oh,” she said and went around the bed, pulling Nikki into her arms. “I knew something was off. Thought you were a bit ill, not that you were being soppy.”
Nikki held her close, nuzzling into her neck. “It’s still a bit much sometimes,” she admitted, swallowing against the catch in her throat. “I look at you and all that we have, and sometimes I worry that it’s a dream, one that I’m going to wake up from and find myself back in a cell.”
“No dream,” Helen assured her, rubbing her back lightly through her blouse. She nuzzled Nikki’s ear. “Take me to bed and I’ll show you just how real it is.”
Nikki was delighted. “With your aunt just upstairs?”
Helen kissed her, brushing her nose against Nikki’s, an intimate, cute caress. “I can be quiet if you can.”
Nikki doubted that, but she wasn’t about to refuse the offer.
The next morning, Nikki prepared a big breakfast. The radio was playing Christmas music in the background, but it was low enough that she could hear Helen and Moira talking in the dining nook as they set the table.
“I’m curious, Helen,” Moira said in a teasing tone. “Nikki tells me you get to open one gift tonight. You got a car last year. How do you top that?”
“You’ll see,” Helen muttered.
Nikki was intrigued, particularly at Helen’s confident tone. It made her look forward to the evening with even great anticipation. But first was the Christmas eve service at the church. Henry’s parish was small, and one that had gone through some hard times, as had the neighborhood, but was currently undergoing a revitalization. Nikki had played a not insignificant part in that renaissance. In addition to raising money for the church roof with a bash at Chix, Nikki and Trisha had bought, upgraded and flipped a few houses, including the one where Henry and Babs now lived. Not to mention any extra food from the bistro that Nikki sent over every afternoon for the church food bank.
Helen was a little nervous about her upcoming performance, and she kept gripping Nikki’s elbow with increasing intensity. Nikki just patted her on the knee as they sat through the sermon, and gave her a comforting squeeze before Helen left the pew to join the choir. Then, she pulled out her phone so she could capture the entire thing for posterity. Moira looked over at her and smirked.
“She’s not going to like that.”
“She never does,” Nikki agreed. “But it’s perfect ammunition for when she’s being stroppy.”
Moira just snorted and looked toward the front of the church as the choir, in their long robes, began the Christmas concert. Helen didn’t possess the strongest of voices, but it wasn’t as if she had a great deal of competition among her peers, so when she stepped forward and began to sing, Nikki recorded every second.
Afterward, as people were standing and filing their way out, Helen spoke for a long moment with Henry before joining Nikki and Moira. She shot an aggrieved glare at her lover. “Don’t think I didn’t see you.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nikki said with an innocence refined over many an escapade in Larkhall.
“Let’s go,” Helen said, narrowing her eyes at her in clear indication she didn’t believe her, but she didn’t pursue it. Instead, she added, “Trish and Claire have promised a spread.”
Claire’s flat wasn’t nearly as decked out as Helen and Nikki’s abode, but there was an artificial silver tree, stately and refined, themed in gold, and some Christmas baubles and poinsettias placed strategically around. After getting rid of their coats and introducing Moira, Nikki looked around for Hamilton, Claire’s cat, and wondered if Trisha had finally managed to do away with him. They detested each other with a passion, even as Claire dotted on him, and Nikki never failed to be tickled by how the big orange tabby stalked Trisha whenever Claire wasn’t looking. In contrast, he adored Helen, rubbing up against her, playing with her feet and rolling over to show his tummy at every opportunity.
He finally came strolling in as if they’d all been waiting for him and made a beeline for the new person. Much to Trisha’s disgust, he promptly jumped up on Moira’s lap and rubbed his head against her, purring so loudly, he nearly drowned out the stereo.
Trisha glared at him and Nikki thought she could hear the actual grinding of her back teeth. “Will you look at that?”
“Well, hey, no one else is sleeping with Claire,” Nikki pointed out. “It’s got to be sheer jealousy, right?”
“He doesn’t like you,” Trisha pointed out.
“I’m guilty by association,” Nikki said. “He knows we had it on at one point.”
“I don’t think that’s it.”
“Maybe he’s Scottish, then.”
After adding Claire and Trisha’s gifts to the pile already under the tree, including a small one containing a toy mouse for Hamilton just to get under Trisha’s skin, Nikki joined the other women at the table. They talked and laughed and toasted each other with mulled cider and wine over a hearty ham dinner.
On the cab ride home, Nikki found herself looking out on the snow still falling gently on a city made magical this holiday evening, and wondered how it was possible to feel this happy. She spared a thought for the Julies and Tina, still banged up. They were all that were left of the people she had known in Larkhall, all that had survived that is, and her heart ached in her chest with profound pain. She knew they would do the best they could, have a bit of celebration if the screws allowed it, but she also knew how cold and lonely and utterly devastating it was to spend Christmas within those ugly stone walls.
Perhaps after the holidays, she would finally dredge up the courage to go back to Larkhall on a VO, bring along some treats, whatever she could get past the inspection. It wouldn’t be much, but she knew it would mean something to the women.
Helen nudged her. “Hey. Okay?”
Nikki forced a smile. “Just being soppy again.”
Helen kissed her cheek and rested her head on Nikki’s shoulder, reminding her that she was as far from Larkhall as she could be.
In the flat, Nikki prepared eggnog, bringing the mugs over to Helen and Moira who were collapsed on the sofa, both looking a little stuffed after their meal. Then she went back out to the foyer where she had stashed Helen’s gift in the drawer of the table by the door. She’d known it was safe because Helen had never seen the table as anything other than a handy surface to dump her briefcase and purse on after returning home from work.
Back in the living room, she handed the gift to Helen, and another for Moira just so that she was included. Helen didn’t have any boxes for Nikki, nor did she seem inclined to dig one out. Confused, Nikki sat down in the armchair and watched them open their gifts, feeling a little left out. Helen crooned over her jewelry and Moira was quite taken with the scarf and ruby pin Nikki had picked out for her. Then they both looked expectantly at Nikki.
“What?” she said, holding out her hands. “Am I supposed to pick one from the pile?”
Helen smiled and moved over to Nikki, kneeling before her as she put her hands lightly on Nikki’s knees. “No, I have your gift right here.”
“Okay.” Nikki regarded her uncertainly, an odd feeling suddenly creeping up the back of her neck, unfamiliar and scary, as if she were standing on the ledge of a very high building. “What is it?”
“I know it’s not legislated yet, and all we’ve ever discussed is the legal aspects of a civil union, but this is something I’ve been thinking about for some time,” Helen said, her green eyes luminous in the glow of the Christmas lights. “I want you to know that you’re everything to me, Nikki. From the moment, I met you on the landing in Larkhall, you’ve owned my heart.” She pulled a velvet box from her pocket and held it up, opening the lid to reveal a ring. “Nicola Wade, will you marry me?”
Like a complete berk, Nikki burst into tears. In the background, she could hear Moira’s cry of happy surprise.
“I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?” Helen grinned, the tip of her tongue appearing between her teeth.
Nodding vigorously, still unable to speak, Nikki reached down and pulled Helen into her arms, hugging her tightly.
She just wished she’d had her phone handy to record the moment.
The return to the Policies Unit after Christmas break was unpleasant, especially when Helen found out there’d been a murder at Larkhall, all due to a misfiling of paperwork that allowed a psychotic woman named Miranda Miles to be placed in G wing. Heads were rolling and Area Management wanted to know who was responsible.
As the days went by and things grew more tense, it made it hard to focus on work. Helen knew it hadn’t been anyone at Policies. They didn’t deal with transfers unless they had a special interest in the client, like Shell or Lydia, but she did know people in the transfer office and things were quite dicey over there. She suspected someone would be scapegoated, and it would all be swept under the rug, never mind how traumatic it had been for the women on the wing, and of course, for Christy Mackay’s family. Helen hadn’t known the chaplain, only that she was young and eager, and certainly didn’t deserve to die in such a horrible fashion.
The snowstorm that Helen and Nikki found so delightful had been a disaster for Larkhall, trapping staff for twenty-four hours, disrupting the power and heat which had been a hardship for the prisoners, and creating the conditions for the murder. Helen was also displeased to discover Julie J hadn’t been taking her medication as prescribed, because apparently it caused weight gain. She knew Julie was Nikki’s friend, but honestly, sometimes it was very difficult to help the prisoners when they refused to help themselves.
All in all, it felt quite a long way away from the wonderful Christmas eve when Nikki agreed to be her wife, though that didn’t keep Helen from remembering it at the oddest times. Like now, sitting in her office, filling out reports, Helen felt her expression soften, and suspected she had a daft smile on her face. Nikki continued to be over the moon, and Helen knew she would never forget that expression that had come over her face when she realized what Helen was asking her. Just the memory of it spread a warm rush of love through her.
“Hey, Helen, have you—” Dominic was saying as he poked his head into Helen’s office, stopping short as he saw her expression. “Hey, what’s up? First smile I’ve seen in a week.”
Helen hesitated, and then figured the news had to come out sooner or later. Nikki had been showing off her ring everywhere, stirring them up at the bistro as the construction crews began the expansion into the old video store next door. She and Trisha had made an offer on the building, able to grab it before anyone else knew it was on the market. Helen might not be the best of friends with Trisha, but she’d be the first to admit she was right sharpish when it came to business. They were hoping to keep the café open as they expanded, but Helen wasn’t sure how viable that idea was. If Nikki did have to shut down for any length of time, they’d be living off savings and what Helen was bringing in, which felt odd indeed.
“I asked Nikki to marry me,” Helen admitted.
“Ah, that’s brilliant, Helen. I’m happy for you.” Dominic smiled widely and Sarah must have been spying from her reception desk because she was there in a wink.
“What?”
It was a small office, Helen allowed with a silent sigh.
“Helen and Nikki are getting married,” Dominic said.
“Fantastic!” And before Helen quite knew what was happening, Sarah was coming around the desk and sweeping Helen up in a big hug.
“Oh, okay,” Helen said, hugging her back gingerly. Sarah was such an enthusiastic girl.
“What’s going on?” Paul appeared in the doorway. “I heard a squeal.”
“That was Sarah,” Dominic said. Helen was finding it hard to catch her breath, let alone speak as Sarah squeezed the air out of her. “Helen just told us she’s engaged.”
“Wonderful,” Paul said. “When’s the big day? We’re all invited of course.”
“Of course,” Helen managed. “We’re doing it at St. Margaret’s.”
“Henry’s church.”
“Is that allowed,” Sarah asked, a bit wide-eyed, then flushed. “I mean—”
“It’s all right, Sarah,” Helen said, patting her on the back. “It won’t be completely legal, no, but we can get a civil partnership, and the wedding will be a ceremonial gesture. But we’ll believe it’s real, and that’s all that matters.”
“It is,” Dominic said loyally. “Got a best man, yet? I volunteer.”
Helen blinked. “I ah, think Claire has already volunteered to stand for me.”
“Oh, well, usher, then?”
“Of course.”
“What’s happening?” Helen heard Della’s voice and was abruptly embarrassed to be interrupting the work day.
“Helen’s getting married,” Dominic said.
“Are you serious?”
Helen wanted to put her hands over her face. That was Joan’s voice. Why did she have to be in today of all days? She only worked at the Unit one day a week.
“Helen, that’s fantastic news,” Della said, shouldering her way into Helen’s office, that suddenly seemed too small, not for the first time. “Who’s giving you away?”
“My aunt Moira,” Helen said. Between the two of them. Nikki and Moira had planned the whole thing during the holiday week. “It’s going to be a Scottish do, complete with claymores and bagpipes. You’ll have to wear a kilt, Dominic. Still want to do it?”
He lit up. “I have great legs, I’ll have you know.”
“That’s rather untraditional,” Joan said coolly, looking at Helen over Della’s shoulder with disapproval in her expression. “Having it in a church?”
Helen stared at her, honestly confused. “You know, for someone who’s lesbian,” she said, “you’re really homophobic.”
Joan blinked and went red. “I’m not a dyke,” she sputtered, outraged.
Helen blinked. She knew that Joan had carried on an affair with Trisha, that in fact, it was that tryst that had ended Trisha’s relationship with Nikki while she was in Larkhall. It hadn’t lasted long, only six months and since their breakup, which had apparently been very bad, Trisha had actively avoided any situation where she and Joan might encounter each other, even sneaking out of a party at Helen’s flat so that Joan wouldn’t see her.
“What are you talking about? You and Trish had a thing a few years ago,” Helen said, trying to wrap her head around it. “Nikki’s ex? Patricia Grace? She owned Chix, the nightclub?”
Joan went white, and it suddenly occurred to Helen that Joan might not have realized that the ‘Trisha’ Helen referred to on occasion was the same woman she had been involved with. Nor did Helen remember Joan ever referring to any kind of romantic relationship, straight or gay. Helen experienced a sinking feeling in her chest. Had she just outed her? She reached out a placating hand.
“Joan, I’m sorry,” she began, but Joan pushed her way out of Helen’s office, disappearing back into the lobby, undoubtedly back to her office. Helen exchanged a look with Della who frowned at her, disappointment clear in her eyes. “Della, I didn’t mean…”
“Go talk to her, Helen,” Della said, as the rest quickly scarpered back to their respective work spaces.
Taking a restorative breath, Helen rose from her chair and went to Joan’s office down the corridor, rapping on the door. “Joan, may I come in?”
There was a muffled ‘okay’. Steeling herself, Helen turned the knob and went inside, shutting the door behind her for privacy.
“You win, you know.” Joan was huddled in her chair behind the desk. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“There’s no competition,” Helen said, sitting down in the other chair. “I don’t know why you ever thought there was.”
Joan lifted her face and Helen was disturbed to see tearstains on her cheeks. “You have everything. Everyone loves you. It comes so easy.”
Helen managed to turn her snort of derision into a cough. “If it is, it’s because I had some hard lessons first.” She paused, trying to think of how to say this. “This is the first job in the prison service where I’ve been treated with respect, where I could accomplish anything. This is the first relationship in my personal life where I finally believe I’m getting it right. If you think I have everything, it’s because I had to go through a lot of shit to get here. You just caught me at the right time.” She shook her head. “Is that really why you hate me? Because you think it came easy?”
“I don’t hate you.”
Helen shifted in her chair. “Actions say different.”
“I envy you. The second you came onto the unit, Della treated your word as gold.”
“Because I’ve been on the other side, in the trenches,” Helen said. “Just like Dominic. You haven’t acted as medical doctor in a prison, you just visit on consults. I wager if you spent a year as a medical officer working every day with them, you’d have a totally different view of women in prison. And people in the unit would be more inclined to take any suggestion you make more seriously.” At Joan’s expression, the way her nose wrinkled, perhaps at the thought of working full time in a prison, Helen sighed. “Look, I’m sorry if you think I outed you to the office. Believe me, everyone knows you’re gay, because everyone knows Trish and you had a thing. We found out long ago. I thought you knew we knew. I was wrong in that assumption, and I’m truly sorry about that.”
“Everyone knows?”
“Yeah, they do. Look, I don’t know why you want to be in the closet, but that’s your choice.” Helen pulled herself out of the chair, suddenly feeling weary, and resentful that in sharing her good news, she couldn’t even enjoy it. Instead, she had to make nice with Joan. “No one will judge you for it, but Joan, if you make the first step, I promise you, there will be people out here to greet you with open arms.”
She left the office, hoping that she hadn’t screwed it up too badly. She knew Joan’s animosity sprang from jealousy, but now she wondered if she had it wrong on what that jealousy was based. Maybe it wasn’t because of work, or even Nikki. Maybe it was because Helen lived open and proud, something that hadn’t always been the case for her. Maybe if Joan decided it wasn’t so bad to be out, she’d lose that sense of envy.
“Helen, can I talk to you?” Helen heard Della’s voice as she passed by her office door and she winced as she turned around, feeling like she was back in school and being sent to the headmaster.
“I’m sorry, Della,” she said as soon as she sat down. “I didn’t know she didn’t know we knew.”
Della needed a second to work that out. When she did, her eyebrows went up. “Wait. What? She thought we thought she was straight?”
Helen nodded. “Isn’t that what you wanted to see me about?”
Della waved that aside for a second. “Did you apologize to her?”
“Yes, I was out of line. I shouldn’t have assumed she was out. It wasn’t my place to bring it up.”
“Do you think it will change anything between you?”
“Fingers crossed.”
“Okay then. But I actually wanted to see you about this.” Della handed over a file. “I just received a request from Larkhall for your services. I know I didn’t want you working there, but Joy’s a friend and you might be able to do something.”
Helen nearly choked when she opened the file. “Di Barker? She hasn’t even been to court, yet. She's on remand. I’m not a solicitor, Della. That’s not what I do.”
“Still if you can bring the same approach to remand that you do to appeals, we could save time, money and mental anguish by preventing a wrongful conviction.”
“I reckon,” Helen said, a bit doubtfully. She paused. “Who’s Joy?”
“Joy Masterson,” Della explained. “She took over as the number one a few months ago. Ex-military. Hard ass but she respects honesty. You go in straight-forward, and you’ll have no trouble with her.”
“Well, it’s good to have a woman in charge for a change,” Helen said. “And with Fenner gone, maybe Larkhall will start doing things right. When do you want me to see her? Di, I mean.”
“Just call and let them know,” Della said. “They’ll arrange the VO.”
“All right.” Helen took the file back to her office and that was when it hit her that she’d have to go back to Larkhall. Nikki was quite open with her distaste about returning there, but Helen had always kept quiet about her own uneasiness, mostly because she didn’t have to work there. Now that had changed.
To meet with Joy Masterson and Di Barker, she’d have to return to the belly of the beast.
Nikki was so happy she literally didn’t know what to do with herself. When she was at work, she was thinking of Helen and the wedding. When she was home, she was thinking of Helen and the wedding. She wasn’t getting anything done. Half the time she was going over lists in her head, which slowed her hands, and the other half, she was so focused on an immediate task that she didn’t hear or see anything until someone interrupted.
“You need to dial it back, Nikki,” Trisha advised.
No longer tied up with running Chix, she had taken over supervising the expansion while Nikki kept the bistro open. There would be an arch in the wall between the two buildings to lead into the larger dining room, but they were leaving that project for last so that the café patrons wouldn’t be disturbed. Though there was little they could do about the irritating whine of wood saws and the bang of hammers that was quite audible through the wall. They tried to keep it down during the busiest periods at breakfast and lunch, ratcheting up construction in the afternoon after closing.
“I know,” Nikki said as she went through the day’s receipts. “I’m driving everyone crazy. I’m driving myself crazy.”
“It’s only a wedding,” Trisha said, taking off her hard hat and putting it on the desk. They were in Nikki’s office at the rear of Libertà, away from the dust and commotion. “Didn’t Moira say she’d take care of most of the details?”
“She did, but we keep coming up with new ideas. I’m starting to wonder if we shouldn’t hold it in a castle in Scotland. It would be more picturesque.”
“Henry and Babs would be heartbroken if you moved it from the church,” Trisha pointed out. “Besides, most of your friends are here. Why make us travel all the way up there just for scenery?”
“You’re right,” Nikki said, raking her fingers through her hair. “The funny thing is, Helen’s not that Scottish. All the bagpipes and stuff? I get the sense she doesn’t really care about any of it. She’s just doing it for me.”
“Why?” Trisha’s eyebrows went down. “You’re not Scottish. You’re what…Anglo Saxon?”
“Exactly, Trish, what kind of culture do I have? I don’t have that kind of history running through my family. And really, what are my traditions as a lesbian? Some rainbow flags and a keg? At least a Scottish theme gives us a foundation and I want this to be memorable.”
“The fact you’re getting married is memorable,” Trisha said. “Honestly, Nik, how can you enjoy this if you’re busy making yourself crazy?”
“I don’t know. Any suggestions?”
“Try breathing, for a start. Every time you start to do your head in, stop and take a breath. Or ten. Remind yourself that you’re doing it because you love Helen, and she loves you, and that’s all that counts. Everything else is…” Trisha paused, trying to think of a word. “Rubbish.”
Nikki laughed, though it was a bit painful. “Great, all these plans are rubbish.”
“Not the plans so much, the emphases you’re putting on them. Your marriage won’t fail because you wear the wrong tartan.” Trisha brushed some plaster dust from her jeans. “Speaking of which, are you wearing a kilt?” Her eyes lit up with glee at the prospect.
Nikki winced. “Moira wants me to, but I don’t think so. A nice, white suit, I think. Helen’s going for the gown, but you know me and dresses. We don’t mix. I doubt a kilt would be any different.”
“Too bad.”
“Cheeky. You just want to make fun of me.”
“Of course, I do.” Trisha sobered. “It does mean a lot that you asked me to stand for you. After all we’ve been through, I’d understand if you wanted someone else.”
“Who else would I ask?” Nikki scoffed. “You’re my business partner and my best mate, after Helen of course, and all we’ve been through is why I need you there. To make sure I don’t cock it all up.”
“Oi, that’s asking a lot.”
Speaking with Trisha made Nikki feel a lot better, and by the time she went upstairs, showered and changed into her casual clothes, she felt a little more in control of things. So, she saw right away that something was off with Helen when she came home. Her expression was pensive as she put her briefcase and purse on the table, dropping her keys in the bowl.
Nikki knew not to speak. She just took Helen in her arms and held her, feeling their bodies fit together in perfect harmony. Then she put her hands on either side of Helen’s face, thumbs on her jawline, tilting her head back so that she could kiss her with tender affection. By the time she had finished to her own satisfaction, Helen had a smile on her face.
“Love you,” Nikki said seriously.
“Love you, too,” Helen replied. Then she sighed.
“What?”
“They want me to go back to Larkhall.”
Nikki was confused. “Haven’t you already…” She trailed off as she realized. “No, you haven’t been back there, have you? Della didn’t want you anywhere near it because of you and I and how you left.” Nikki exhaled. “I suppose enough time has passed that it’s not an issue.”
“I reckon.”
Nikki studied Helen’s face, searching her eyes and identifying the emotions there. “Oh,” she said quietly. “You have a problem with it.”
“I shouldn’t.” Helen shook her head fretfully. “I’m being stupid.”
“No, you’re being…” Nikki hesitated, searching for the right word. “Sensible.”
Surprised, Helen looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“A lot of what happened in that place hurt you. It makes complete sense you don’t want to go back. That’s normal. It’s natural.”
“Maybe, but it’s not practical,” Helen said, dryly. “I have to be able to work there. It’s part of my job.”
“So, what is the job?”
“Di Barker. She’s requested that I help her the way I helped Lydia. And you.”
Nikki frowned, absorbing that. “She’s not up for appeal She hasn’t even been tried yet.”
“I know.” Helen rubbed the back of her neck, drawing away from Nikki’s embrace so she could pace a bit. “But Della thinks that maybe I could prevent an innocent woman from going to jail.”
“She knows Di didn’t do it?”
“She’s my supervisor. She read the report on Julie J. She knows what I know.” Helen turned, stopped and looked at Nikki directly. “What do you think?”
“I reckon you should help her,” Nikki said after considering it carefully. “Because as miserable as Di was and is, she’s also innocent and that needs to mean something. Because if it doesn’t, then why are we bothering with any of it?”
Helen lowered her eyes. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”
“Helen, you’re their fail safe,” Nikki continued. “When there’s no one else for these women to turn to, you become their hope, just like you were mine.”
“I think you give me too much credit.”
“Not enough, more like,” Nikki reached out for Helen again, pulling her back into her arms and holding her close. “The difference you make can’t be measured. Trust me.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier to go back there.” Helen snuggled into her arms, nuzzling up against Nikki’s throat. “It feels like shit.”
“I know, but for what it’s worth, you’re the strongest person I know. You can do it, even when every part of you doesn’t like it.” Nikki hesitated, feeling her heartrate increase. “If you want, I’ll go with you. Visit with the Julies and Tina while you do your meeting.”
Helen leaned back, looking up at her. “No,” she said, seriously. “I love that you’re offering to do that, Nikki, but I have to do this for myself. It’s something that I need to get past and I don’t know that I can do that if you’re with me. Besides, you don’t want to go back, either. And for far better reasons than mine.”
“They’re the same reasons, Helen. It was shit there, and I don’t want to step back into it, but seeing Julie at Fossmore made me realize how little I’ve done for them. I know I send a care basket every so often, but I never visit.”
“All right, but we shouldn’t both be facing our demons at the same time,” Helen argued. “Let me do this first. We’ll see how it goes. Then we can figure out how to make it work for you.”
Nikki couldn’t deny the relief she felt at Helen’s words, and the power of that relief made her realize that Helen was right. There was a way to go before she was ready to return to the place that featured so prominently in her nightmares.
“What’s for dinner?”
Nikki shook her head. “Don’t know. Order a takeaway?”
“Chinese?” Helen offered. “It’s been a while.” She paused. “It was the first meal we shared in this flat.”
Nikki thought back. “It was,” she agreed with slight surprise. “I’d forgotten. I’ll call. You go get changed.”
Over a meal of chicken fried rice, stir fry vegetables and egg rolls, Nikki and Helen went over the latest plans for the wedding. Helen thought Nikki should wear a kilt, for no other reason than to make the wedding night more convenient. When Nikki wondered how that would work, Helen reminded her that it was customary to wear nothing under a kilt which led to fond speculation over what Nikki might be wearing now. Nikki promptly showed her, whereupon, it was decided to move to the bedroom now that dinner was over.
Helen spent a long time undressing Nikki, lingering over every bit of flesh revealed as each garment was taken off.
“Do you think the wedding night will be different?” Nikki murmured as Helen kissed her neck and chest.
“Mmm, different from what?”
“From any other night?” Nikki shivered as Helen’s tongue traced a line down her breast, flicking a nipple teasingly.
Helen chuckled. “Worse, maybe,” she said, pushing Nikki’s pants down, along with her knickers, leaving them on the floor. Her fingertips traced patterns over Nikki’s thighs and stomach, deliberately avoiding what Nikki wanted her to touch oh, so much. “Considering what we’re planning, we’ll probably be so exhausted at the end of the day, we’ll just fall into bed and go to sleep.”
“That’s horrible,” Nikki said.
Helen nuzzled her ear. “There’s always the next morning. We’ll wake up in each other’s arms, and know we’re married. I’m sure we can spend the whole day making up for the night before.”
Nikki considered that as Helen reached down between them and touched her. “That…ah…sounds perfect.”
“It will be,” Helen said. “I promise. All the events, all the traveling, all the checking into the resort will be finished. There’ll just be you and me and a week’s worth of making love and exploring the loch.”
“That’ll be different.”
“Making love for a week?”
“No, you’re hiking around a loch. You don’t like to walk to the corner.”
Helen pushed her down onto the bed and glared at her, hands on her hips, a spark in her eyes. All undercut by the fact she was naked and her nipples were erect. Nikki eyed them lustily.
“Come here,” she said. “Let’s get you into proper shape.”
Helen hesitated, and then allowed herself to be pulled down on top of Nikki.
“Reckon it beats the gym.”
Helen shut off the engine in the Larkhall car park and sat there for a moment, staring through the windshield. Rain pattered down steadily, small drops that hit the windshield softly and ran down, leaving shining trails on the glass. Too many feelings were swirling in her head as she looked around at the foreboding stone walls, and it took a moment before they settled enough to allow her to get out of the car. A feeling of dread weighed in her stomach and she kept reminding herself that he was dead. That the first person she saw wouldn’t be Fenner’s leering visage as she stepped back into the prison that had impacted her life so greatly.
However, it turned out almost as bad. Sylvia Hollamby was on the reception desk, and Helen felt her lips twist into a rueful smirk as she approached.
“Sylvia,” she greeted as blandly as she could. “I’m here to see Masterson.”
“Aye, she’s expecting you,” Hollamby said grudgingly. “I’ll take you up.”
An escort by Bodybag herself. Could the day start off any better?
Hollamby lingered in the office and Joy had to shoot her a hard look to urge her out the door. Helen swallowed back her smile and took a seat at Joy’s gesture. Looking across the desk, Helen evaluated Larkhall’s governing governor. Masterson was an older woman, with light blonde hair shading to grey, short and sticking up from her head, her face craggy and lined, her light blue eyes keen and hard edged.
“Della sends her regards,” Helen said by way of opening, rewarded when those hard features softened slightly.
“A good woman, Hines,” Joy barked.
“The best,” Helen agreed. “I must say, it’s good to see a woman back in charge of this place.”
“This prison is going to run to the highest of standards,” Joy said. “It doesn’t matter if I’m a man or a woman.”
Oh, dear. Helen managed to keep her face pleasantly attentive. On one hand, this did not bode well for the prisoners in Larkhall. On the other, there were probably a few who would benefit from some strict, military discipline. Helen just thanked God Nikki was no longer banged up. She would have chafed under a woman like Masterson, not only because it was in Nikki’s nature to rebel against such strident authority, but because it would have reminded her too much of her father, a naval man through and through.
“As you know, I’m here to see Di Barker.”
“I have the file.” Masterson tapped the folder on her desk with an impatient finger. “She killed one of our own.”
Helen took a second. “I believe she is innocent,” she said, but then, couldn’t help adding, “Fenner wasn’t one of our own. He was a monster pure and simple. I knew the man and the thing that makes it worse, he wouldn’t have got away with half the things he had if there hadn’t been so many in the Old Boy’s Network in Area propping him up. This prison is much better off with him gone. Not just for the prisoners, but for those women on staff. Trust me when I say that it was a rare woman in here over the past few years who wasn’t assaulted by him one way or the other.”
Masterson’s eyes narrowed, but she seemed to swallow back her initial response. Instead, she raised her hand. “Shall we get on with this? I have things to do.”
“Of course,” Helen said, getting to her feet.
She followed Joy as she led her through the familiar corridors, still painted in the olive-green puke color, with yellow flaking off the bars on the gates. As they entered G wing and passed the mess hall, they were brought up short by a loud greeting from the kitchen.
“Oi, Miss Stewart.”
The Julies and Tina rushed out from behind the counter, ignoring the women in the lunch queue who muttered and stared, some wondering loudly what was going on, and others filling them in that the small woman in the doorway was one of the better G-wing governors that they had ever had.
Tina’s eyes were big and dark and achingly hopeful. “Miss Stewart? Are you coming back as wing governor?”
Helen smiled. “Sorry, Tina, I’m just here on a visit for the Policies Unit.”
“How’s Nikki?” Julie J demanded.
“She’s wonderful, doing well,” Helen assured them. She leaned closer. “In fact, you should know we’re getting married. I proposed on Christmas Eve. She’s over the moon.” Normally, she wouldn’t share such personal details, but for the women in here, knowing that one of their own had gotten out and was living a better life gave them hope. And as Nikki had said to her on more than one occasion, hope was usually the only thing left that could keep a person going.
“That’s great,” Julie S. said. Her wrinkled face screwed up in a bright smile. “She always loved you, Miss Stewart.”
“I know,” Helen said, smiling. She caught Masterson’s impatient glance. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”
“Yeah, good-bye, Miss Stewart.”
Helen continued after Masterson, no longer feeling so squeamish. She had to remember there had been good done in this place, including the time she found the love of her life. Regardless of everything else that had happened, that counted for a lot in calming her nerves.
Di was waiting in the room reserved for their visit, looking a great deal older than the last time Helen had seen her. Masterson shot her a disdainful glance and then turned to Helen. “When you’re done, give a shout to the guard.”
“I know how it works,” Helen offered coolly.
After the door had shut, granting them privacy, Helen sat down and opened the file. She barely had time to settle before Di leaned forward anxiously.
“I didn’t do it. I swear, Miss Stewart.”
“I’m aware there are questions,” Helen said. Though she knew full well that Julie J had confessed, and believed her, it was all under doctor/patient confidentiality and she couldn’t offer anything up that she had learned at Fossmore. Still, there was one thing she had to get out of the way. It probably wasn’t productive, but she did need to get it off her chest before they went any further. “I’m not sure why you called me, Di. You haven’t even had your trial yet. You’re being held over on remand. There are innocent women banged up for years who are working on appeals. Why should I ignore them and help you, especially after all the propping up of Fenner like you did? I know you helped him find a way to get me out of Larkhall and that was the least of what you’ve done in here.”
Di turned her head away, lowering her eyes. “I don’t…I can’t explain it,” she admitted. “It’s like he took over my mind.”
Yes, that was Di. It was never her fault. Always someone else’s doing. Helen wasn’t sure why she'd expected anything else, and if she was hoping for an actual reckoning for Di’s deeds, she wouldn’t find it here. Honestly, if it weren’t for Nikki’s words about the meaning of innocence still ringing in her ears, Helen wasn’t sure she wouldn’t get up and walk out this second. Instead, she forced back the feelings of irritation and tapped her finger on the forensics report.
“You know he was stabbed in the neck. You may have a chance with the murder weapon.”
“It was never found.” Di’s eyes widened. “What was it? A knife?”
If Helen didn’t already know she hadn’t killed Fenner, that would have given her pause. “According to the coroner, it’s believed it was a shard of ice, chipped from a larger mass not long before the murder and melted away afterward. There was evidence of excess water left in the wound tract, probably from the tip breaking off and melting in his neck. The water matched the ice in the prison cooler.”
Di looked gobsmacked. “Ice?” She exhaled audibly, mouth open. “Then that proves it. I wasn’t around any ice. And it’s not like I could sneak it in ahead of time. It would melt.”
“Exactly. By using the internal CCTV system, we may be able to prove how it was done.” Helen paused, knowing this might dump Julie J in it. But Waugh had put his professional stamp on a statement that proved she was mentally incapacitated at the time, and incapable of giving a sworn statement. That should be enough to keep any further charges from being filed, especially with the possibility of all Fenner’s misdeeds floating to the surface in a trial. Others in Area Management were already scrambling to distance themselves from a murder victim. When Di recanted her testimony that had freed Fenner from the hit and run charge, it would leave those who had promoted him afterward in a professionally vulnerable state.
“Are you sure you weren’t near the kitchen or any of the bathrooms?” Helen knew that Julie had kept the ice dagger intact for a time by wrapping it in tinfoil and putting it in the tank of one of the toilets. Still, it only would have lasted a certain period before it could no longer be used as a weapon.
Di paused to consider that, her features screwed up. “I don’t think so.”
“You’d better know so,” Helen said. “Because if CCTV shows you at either of those places within the time presented, you might not be able to prove your innocence.”
“I’m sure,” Di said. Impulsively, she reached out and grabbed Helen’s hands, wringing them tightly. “Thank you, Miss Stewart. You’ve saved my life.”
“Talk to your solicitor,” Helen said, freeing herself with difficulty. “Have him subpoena the CCTV footage. Get witness statements of your whereabouts at the time, along with police statements about what they found in addition to the bloody uniform. You can’t have the murder weapon if you didn’t have any way to keep it from melting before it was used.”
“I’ll never be able to pay you back for this.”
“Just doing my job,” Helen said as she gathered up the files and put them back into the briefcase. “In the meantime, Di, get your act together. I don’t want to blame the victim, but you contributed greatly in creating the conditions for this to happen. If you don’t start changing things in your life, you may find yourself back here, without any kind of fail safe.”
Di’s eyes narrowed, undoubtedly peeved by the lecture, but apparently, she was wise enough not to say anything. In that, at least, she was smarter than Shell Dockley who could never keep her mouth from running away with her, despite the consequences.
As Helen left the building, it felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she breathed in the damp air, feeling a sense of freedom she hadn’t experienced since first hearing about Fenner’s death on the BBC. It was so exhilarating that she stopped and looked back, her eyes tracing the line of roof and the windows on the upper level of G Wing. A part of her almost expected to see Nikki’s face pressed against them, looking down at her as she had so many times before.
But Nikki wasn’t there, thankfully, and Helen smiled, knowing Nikki would never have to be there again. Shaking her head, she turned back to her car and unlocked the door, slipping into the driver’s seat. With a deep pleasure, she started her Peugeot and drove away from Larkhall.
Away from all the anger and hate that had haunted her for too long. Fenner was dead. It was time to look ahead, to a life full of love, laughter and light.
It was time to stop looking back.
Nikki couldn’t feel her face. Nor her hands. Nor the rest of her body. Was everyone this numb when they got married? The only way she knew she was breathing was that she was still standing up.
“It’s going to be fine, Nik,” Trisha said quietly, fixing the white heather into the buttonhole of Nikki’s exquisitely tailored suit jacket, before adding another sprig to her own jacket. She was dressed in a subdued, thistle purple skirt that matched the jacket, and a white silk blouse.
Nikki was completely in white, including her waistcoat, with the only color displayed by a pin on her right lapel, a heavy silver luckenbooth with purple stones, given to her by Helen two days earlier. It had been in the Stewart family for generations, handed down by Irene through Moira who’d had no cause to wear it.
Nikki hadn’t seen Helen since the previous day, having taken a hotel suite the previous night where her hen party had been held. Nikki hadn’t drunk an ounce of liquor, wouldn’t dare to show up at her wedding with a hangover, but Trisha had been less circumspect and now her blue eyes were a little red around the rims.
“What if she doesn’t show up?” Nikki asked, her voice a croak.
Trisha shot an incredulous glance at her. “Don’t be stupid,” she said so dismissively that despite her nebulous fears, Nikki felt comforted.
“Why am I the groom?” Suddenly, she couldn’t keep whatever inane thing in her head from coming out her gob.
Trisha shrugged. “You’re taller, I reckon,” she said. “And we’d never get you in a dress, let’s be honest.”
That was fair, Nikki thought.
“Though you’re not entirely the groom,” Trisha added, thoughtfully. “From what I understand, that pin is usually given by the groom to the fiancée, so you’re mixing it up a bit.”
Nikki glanced down at the brooch, an intricate thing with intertwined hearts topped with a crown to represent Mary, Queen of Scots. “Yeah? How do you know that?”
“Read it somewhere.” Trisha looked over again and her face softened. “It’s going to be perfect, Nikki. All you have to do is stand there and enjoy it. Make the effort, for the sake of the memory, at least.”
Nikki nodded, a bit more vigorously than she needed to. “You’re right. I’ll try.”
Trish checked her watch. “It’s time.”
Forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, not out of reluctance but because of that strange numbness, Nikki followed Trisha into the church where they took their place at the altar. Henry stood there, and offered Nikki a gentle smile. He couldn’t perform a legal marriage, but that he was willing to go through with the entire thing anyway meant a lot to Nikki, and she smiled back at him. In truth, Helen and she were already legally partnered, having signed all the necessary papers with the superintendent registrar a week earlier, followed by a short, non-religious ceremony witnessed by Trisha, Claire and Moira. Outside of the knowledge they were becoming partners in the eyes of the law, it had been quick, impersonal, and as far as Nikki was concerned, a bit of a travesty. She also noted that while she’d felt a mild giddiness during that formality, it wasn’t anything like the incredible floating feeling she felt now.
She looked out over the pews where her friends had gathered. Babs was in the front row and she smiled maternally at Nikki, winking a little. Beside her, Monica and Palmo sat together, holding hands as they beamed beneficently at Nikki. In the next row, her staff from Libertà were present, Pam, Jenna and Diane, all sitting together. Beyond them was Danielle, their DIY foreman, and her crew. Now that the bistro had finished its expansion, they would be on to the next job, another house that Trisha and Nikki had purchased that promised a hefty profit once they had flipped it.
Helen’s side of the church held all the people from the Policies Unit, including, incredibly, Joan Moore. Trisha shifted uncomfortably every time their eyes passed over one another. Karen Betts was also there, Lydia Wallace and, ironically, Di Barker, finally freed of the charges that had been hanging over her, thanks to Helen’s intervention. A true rogue’s gallery, Nikki thought with amusement. Even though she’d been the one in prison, Helen was the one who kept bringing villains into it.
Rounding out the rest of the church were many of the patrons of Chix, coming together one more time to celebrate how far the community had come. Nikki had more than a few conquests amongst them, and she hoped none of them would make the reception awkward.
Nikki started a bit when the first, high notes of the bagpipes began. Together with the church organist, two hired pipers and a drummer in full Scottish Stewart regalia, began the Highland Cathedral. The entirety of the church rose to their feet as Helen appeared and Nikki’s heart abruptly caught in her throat, a rush of love falling over her like the deluge of a waterfall. Helen wore in a simple white dress, a Stewart Clan sash over her left shoulder, fastened by a belt at her waist. Her chestnut hair was glossy and neat, falling to frame her face and as she walked down the aisle, she held her bouquet before her, a mix of purple thistle and white roses, a sprig of white heather among the petals, bound by a small, tartan ribbon. Flanking her, Claire and Moira were dressed in purple to match the thistle, and Moira also had a Stewart sash over her shoulder. She held Helen’s elbow, perhaps to keep her steady as they approached, though there was no sign of nervousness on Helen’s face, just a shining adoration for the woman waiting at the altar.
Nikki never did remember the words spoken in the ceremony by Henry, only how Helen looked as she walked down the aisle toward her. It was a series of snapshots in her brain, Helen taking her place at Nikki’s side, her eyes flickering green flame in the candlelight, the warmth of her body next to her, the soft sound of her breathing, the tremble in her voice as she spoke her vows and promised to love Nikki forever. Nikki didn’t know what she said, only that she got through it without embarrassing herself according to Trisha when she asked her later. Nikki had only focus for Helen until the end when Moira removed her sash and wrapped it over Helen and Nikki’s joined hands, signifying the joining of their clans.
That’s when the tears started, and Nikki walked out of the church blubbering like a baby with Helen at her side as the pipers stood at the door and ushered them out to Mairies Wedding. Dominic, Palmo, Della’s husband, Dan and Paul…all men because upper body strength was needed to hold up the heavy claymores, which had cost a packet to rent…lined the stairs in their suits and kilts, the blades flashing in the sun as they provided an arch while Nikki and Helen descended to where the gleaming white Rolls Royce was waiting.
Sitting in the rear seat, Helen’s hand tightly gripped Nikki’s forearm as they drove to the bistro. “Are you going to be all right?” she asked, her teeth flashing that smile.
Nikki nodded and made a move to mop her face with a white handkerchief provided by Henry before she left. Helen made a small sound, half amusement, half dismay as she took the cloth from Nikki and dabbed away the tears, preserving as much of Nikki’s makeup as she could.
“I’m so happy,” Nikki blurted.
Helen smiled and kissed her. “I am, too,” she reassured her. “Never been happier.”
Libertà was decorated in white and purple, with strategically placed bits of Stewart tartan here and there. Palmo had catered the event, letting Nikki’s people off to enjoy the wedding, and his wait staff had been hired to work the reception. Nikki still had too many butterflies to eat, but she took a glass of water and drank thirstily after sitting down at top table. Beside her, Helen winced and slipped out of her shoe, removing a coin that she placed on the white table cloth, the traditional sixpence.
“Damned thing slipped down,” she said. “Felt like I was walking on a boulder.”
“You never let on,” Nikki told her. She was coming back to herself, head clearing. She hoped the videographer got it all because right now, it was pretty much a blur.
On her other side, Trisha gave Nikki a nudge. “See, you survived.”
“Touch and go there a minute.”
“Well, it’s all downhill from here.”
“Shut up, Trish.”
Trish laughed.
Claire brought over the quaich, a silver serving bowl engraved with the date of their wedding and held it for Helen, who splashed a generous amount of whiskey into it. Then Claire held it up in front of her, gaining the attention of the crowd as she spoke in a clear, ringing tone.
“Strike hands with me,
The glasses brim,
The dew is on the heather
For love is good and life is long
And two are best together.
Bless the union of these two,
Eager for marriage, eager for love
May they begin life together
Live that life together
And come to the end together.”
“Cheerful,” Trisha muttered, receiving an admonishing elbow in the ribs from Nikki before she stood up. Claire handed the quaich to Helen who turned to Nikki, holding it to her lips.
“Nikki, as you drink from this cup, know that you have Helen to have and to hold from this day forward.”
Nikki sipped from the silver cup, feeling the fine malt burn pleasurably as it went down her throat and land in her stomach, where it smoldered with a warm glow. Then Nikki took the quaich and offered it to Helen.
“Helen, as you drink from this cup, know that you have Nikki to love and to cherish from this day forward.”
After Helen drank, she and Nikki both held it as Moira drank, then Claire before Trisha finished it, placing it on the table by Helen. Nikki remained standing as everyone sat down, lifting her wineglass.
“To my wife, Helen Stewart, who’s always been my hope, became my love, and is now my partner for life.”
“To Helen!” The crowd shouted lustily and tilted their glasses. The DJ started playing Royal Scots Dragoon Guards in the background, quietly so as not to disturb the guests as they enjoyed a multicourse meal prepared by Palmo, a leek and potato soup, pearls of melon topped with sorbet, cream of pan-fried garlic mushrooms with toasted ciabatta croute, then the main course, fillet of salmon served on garden greens, finished with sauce vierge. Lemon tarts, rich chocolate brownies or orange pudding and ice cream were provided for dessert.
Sitting back in her chair, Nikki picked at her meal and looked around the room, feeling the love and good wishes wash over her in waves. She couldn’t imagine a better way to wed, surrounded by all her friends, in the bistro that she adored, to the woman that she loved more than life itself. Helen leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
“All right?”
“I’m beside myself, Helen,” Nikki said. “It’s perfection.”
After dinner, the instrumental songs gave way to something more contemporary, and Nikki swept Helen out to the space they’d designated as the dance floor, nowhere near as large as the one Chix’s had possessed, but big enough for eight or nine couples at any rate. For now, however, it was only her and Helen, moving together to Caledonia sung by Steve Balsamo as their guests looked on, mentally replacing the land in the song with the name of the woman in her arms as they danced.
“I love you, Helen,” Nikki said, looking down into her eyes.
“I love you, too, Nikki.” Helen smiled. “Remember when I told you I wanted a woman.”
“Of course.”
“You’re the only woman I want. The only one I ever will.”
“Same here, ma wee burd.”
Helen’s smile widened. “We have the whole rest of our lives now, Nikki. A lot of signposts ahead.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll appreciate them all. Take things slowly,” Nikki promised.
“Yeah,” Helen said as her tongue appeared between her teeth.
“Dead Slow.”
The End
I initially envisioned nine installments in this series. After Larkhall #7 and #8 would have explored Helen trying to work with Lydia and having a rough go of it because of Shell Dockley, Joan Moore and with Lydia not being at all like Nikki Wade. Nikki, meanwhile, would have been pursued by Danielle, the DIY chick who is half her age, which would have embarrassed her greatly. I also would have explored the Kate and Charlotte Leedham flirtation a little further, not to mention the rest of Libertà’s staff. As it turned out, the stories never really materialized, although I do touch on a few of the ideas here. In any event, I think this turned out to be a better story. Instead of Nikki and Helen finding out about Fenner’s death and just celebrating in the last chapter as originally intended, I started the story with his demise and explored what came after, which was more fun. Especially once I involved Karen Betts, Julie Johnson, and Di Barker. Plus, a wedding is a much better ending for these two, rather than a mere swig of champagne to usher out Fenner. I had never watched series seven and eight until recently. I think they missed a rare opportunity by not showing Fenner’s funeral and bringing back some old faces just for the cameos.