by Nick Oldham
‘Who is it?’ she called.
‘Henry Christie.’
She exhaled and slid the chain off, drew back the two bolts and unlocked the double mortice.
‘What are you doing here?’ She eyed him from the light of the hallway and the security light set above the door. He looked tired and unshaven. His eyes were deep in their sockets, his skin pale, loose ... ill-looking.
‘Sorry ... sorry to bother you,’ he stuttered. Danny could smell booze on Henry’s breath, though he clearly wasn’t drunk. ‘I want to explain something to you. I need to apologise for the way I was earlier. Can I come in?’
Danny waved her visitor to a seat in the lounge. She sat on the settee and curled her legs up underneath her, tucking her robe in tightly. Henry took a sip from the can of lager she had given him. The sip became a gulp and lasted until half the can had gone down.
He wiped his mouth. ‘What a day!’
Danny agreed with a gentle nod. It certainly had been one to remember, right from her disagreement with Henry to the very real possibility of a big crime having been committed somewhere in the north of the county. She and Henry had stayed on duty until 10 p.m. killing time, waiting for something to come in. Just as they decided to cal it a day, a phone call came through to their little incident room from Control Room: Staffordshire Police had contacted Lancashire to say that a security company based down there had reported that one of their vans had not completed its journey. It had been carrying twenty-odd million pounds in used notes.
Danny was the one who had taken the call. She felt the pit virtually drop out of her stomach at the news. This had to be it. She asked the Control Room Inspector to fax a copy of the message to the incident room ASAP, which he did.
She and Henry read it together as it churned out.
‘Could well be the one,’ Henry said, the corners of his mouth turning down. ‘Until the van turns up, or the people inside it, we won’t know for sure. I know it says Staffs have circulated obs for the vehicle, but I think we should reinforce it with another message to all our police stations and ask Control Room to circulate details a few times over the air tonight.’ He studied the fax again. ‘Get some bobbies round to check the addresses of the drivers, see what that turns up too. They’re all Lancashire ones. That’s probably all we can do for now, other than to give FB a quick ring and keep him informed. We’d better keep him sweet, otherwise he’ll have our guts for garters.’
Danny arranged to have these instructions carried out. When finished, Henry said, ‘Let’s go home.
They left Headquarters separately in their own cars. Danny did not expect to see Henry again until the next morning. Yet here he was, looking very much the worse for wear.
She smiled sweetly at him. ‘If I get a chance tomorrow, I’d like to get some estimates for the repairs to my car, and let my insurance company know.’
‘Yeah, I don’t have a problem with that.’
For a few long moments they did not speak. Ladysmith Black Mambazo moved into the haunting ‘Love I’ve Come to You’. They listened to it together. Danny’s eyes looked softly at Henry.
‘Why have you come here?’ she asked gently.
Henry had another swig of the lager as though he was avoiding answering the question. He rolled the liquid around his mouth before swallowing. ‘I suppose I was completely pissed off at myself for the way I behaved earlier. I wanted to say sorry. I was out of order.’
‘You had a right to be upset. After all, I was meddling. I should have checked it all out first.’
‘I overreacted.’
‘It’s OK, Henry.’ Danny watched him carefully. He stared blankly into the middle distance, licking his lips. His breathing seemed to become laboured. He touched a hand to his forehead and emitted a short gasp from the back of his throat, then gritted his teeth. His eyes evaded hers. His lips started to tremble slightly and his shoulders rose and fell. He wiped his eyes with the thumb and finger of his left hand, shaking his head angrily at the same time. Danny could see he was wrestling with himself, that he was in turmoil. She put her wine glass down and sat up.
‘Was is it, Henry?’ She thought back to his extended visit to Occupational Health that very morning and also his wasted, fleshy appearance coupled with mood swings and his inability to concentrate. She did the sums in her mind and came up with the dreaded answer. Henry had cancer. ‘Are you unwell?’ she probed, stomach tingling, fearing the response. His actual answer threw her completely off-balance.
‘I’ve had all the tests and there’s no trace of infection, thank God. And that’s a miracle, that is.’ His face set firm, then he closed his eyes and tilted his head backwards. ‘I haven’t told Kate. I haven’t told anyone, to be honest - but I think Terry has a good idea.’ His head dropped forwards and he looked straight at Danny.
‘I’ve been raped,’ he admitted and started to cry.
The CD had finished playing. Danny was kneeling in front of Henry. He was leaning into her and she had embraced him for the last twenty minutes, feeling utterly useless, murmuring words which meant nothing, but sounded reassuring ... and all the while he had cried. Sometimes his body had shaken with huge, bone-jarring tremors; other times he was in control, but basically he cried, moaned and wailed and poured out huge tears like a baby.
Now the big crying had subsided. He had become motionless and his breathing was more controlled. Danny kept her arms wrapped around him and his forehead rested on her shoulder. Her cool hand was on his neck, gently massaging. At last, she thought, I’ve got hold of Henry Christie ... but for all the wrong reasons. Yet she felt deeply emotional and was on the verge of breaking down herself. He’s come to me, she thought. I’m the one he’s told. But even as these words filtered through her mind, she thought, Whoa! Big, BIG responsibility. What the hell am I going to do with this? Where is it likely to end? What does he want from me?
Henry sat up slowly, wiped his face. He was totally wrecked. The skin around his eyes was blotchy and puffed-up.
‘I’m sorry,’ he burbled. ‘You don’t need this, not with the Jack Sands thing as well. This is unfair. I’d better go.’ He made to stand.
Danny’s arms were still around him. She held on and did not let him move. Their faces were only inches apart. She looked squarely into his eyes and made a decision. ‘Don’t go,’ she whispered. ‘You were there for me. I’ve lost count of the number of times I cried on you. You even cleaned up the mess for me. You never ducked and you never quit on me when I needed someone. So I’m here for you now, Henry.’ She smiled brightly. ‘After all, fair’s fair. What are friends for?’
She drew him to her and held him tight, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. For the first time, his arms encircled her.
‘Thanks,’ he breathed into her ear, lips nearly brushing her lobe.
A shiver zipped down her spine and finished somewhere between her legs.
He was all over the place, his mind racing here and there as everything poured out. Danny sat there quietly, listening and nodding in the appropriate places, making occasional comments, asking a question now and again.
‘I couldn’t believe what was happening to me,’ he stated forcefully. ‘I’m not sure, even now, that I believe it has happened to me, though I know it has. It’s like a dream - a nightmare.’
‘I can imagine,’ Danny responded softly.
Henry had a vodka on ice in his hand. He was sitting on the settee, jacket and tie discarded, cuffs unfastened, sleeves rolled up, shoes pushed off. He’d had a quick face wash and looked fresher, more with it.
‘I’ve dealt with dozens of rape victims,’ he continued, the level of his voice monotone and, at that moment, unemotional. ‘All female and - curse me if you want - but I always had the thought at the back of my mind: Why did you let it happen? Why didn’t you just keep your legs closed tight? What stupid, naive thinking that was. There is no choice in the matter. It’s death or rape and it really does mean death, doesn’t it?’ He sipped his cold, Ru
ssian spirit. ‘At the time I didn’t want to die ... but now I wish I had.’
He closed his eyes and fought against hyperventilation.
Danny, on the other end of the settee, glass of wine in hand, reached across and touched him.
‘I’m OK,’ he said, opening his eyes. ‘Honest.’
‘There I was, strapped to a bloody Black and Decker Workmate. I mean, talk about DIY! That’s taking it to the extremes, isn’t it?’ He laughed without humour. Danny could not find it in herself to raise even a false smile. She was visualising the scene, repulsed and frightened by the thought of it. ‘And the bastard stood right next to me and showed me exactly what he was going to shove into me. Rock hard, ugly. He pushed it into my face. It was damp. I thought ... he was going to make me give him a blow job. I would’ve spewed up if he had, but he just wafted it about and slid it across my face and over my lips. . . I can still smell it, taste it . . . then he went behind me. . .’
‘I feel so dirty, so unclean. I can’t get it off myself, the smell- it’s still clinging there. I utterly despise myself for letting it happen ... how could I let it happen, Danny?’ he cried plaintively. ‘I should have stopped him. I’m a man, for God’s sake.’ He shook his head sadly, constantly re-thinking the night.
‘You mustn’t punish yourself for this, Henry. Like you said, there was no other choice, no decision, except to live. You were overpowered and it was against your will. Don’t blame yourself.’
‘But I do, I do. I’m so fucking ashamed.’
‘Another thing is, y’know? Me and sex. I mean, Christ, he rubbed his dick all over my face, his penis, dirty, smelly ... and I think, God, is that what men are really like? Is that what it’s like for a woman? To have that shoved in? To have to hold it, to suck it, just because a man wants it to happen? Am I going to have a hang-up about sex for the rest of my life?’
‘. . . God, everyone getting to know about it. What’s that going to be like for me? I can just see people’s faces, their sniggers, their talking behind my back. "Got well buggered, he did. What sort of a man is he?" They’ll despise me . . . they won’t know what to say to me, they’ll laugh and I won’t ever get treated seriously again. The implications completely fuck me up inside.’
Henry stared hard at Danny. ‘My mind whizzes round and I wonder how the hell they found out I was a cop. Somebody must have bubbled me! I have my suspicions ... but they can’t be right. Nahh . . . one cop wouldn’t do that to another, surely? Just because I said I’d go for him.’
‘What are you talking about, Henry?’
‘Detective Superintendent Rupert Davison.’
Danny frowned. ‘You mean the Rupert Davison?’
‘One and the same. That dickhead of a PC as was. Now a GMP Superintendent.’
‘Bloody hell!’ Danny blurted. ‘He once asked me to sleep with him. I refused, of course.’
Another class product of the fast track - but even so, it seems absurd he would have gone to the lengths of. . . Christ, I was going to say “shafting me” . . . of putting my life in danger.’
‘I wouldn’t put it past him,’ Danny said darkly, recalling the immature PC who, if dismissal procedures had been anything like proper and effective, should have been out on his ear years ago. But that was one of the main causes of malaise in the police service: it was virtually impossible to sack someone once they had completed their probation. Many unsuitable people, therefore, went on to become unsuitable managers and high-rankers.
But Henry could not believe that Davison would have fed him to the wolves. It was far more likely to have been Billy Crane who had recognised him and then warned Thompson and Elphick.
‘It’s been good for me, this, Danny.’ Henry breathed out. He had been talking for three-quarters of an hour. ‘Thanks - I needed it. I’m just sorry it had to be you.’
‘I’m not sorry, but I do need to ask you something.’
‘Go on, fire away.’
‘Why haven’t you talked to Kate about it?’
The question stumped Henry. He was silent for a few moments, then: ‘I love the girls, I really do. They mean everything to me. I’d die for them without hesitation.’ He sighed through his nose. ‘But as for Kate . . . I don’t know any more. She’s a really good wife. Ugh! I hope that doesn’t sound patronising, but she is. But there’s something not right any more. Over the last few months we seem to have drifted slowly away from each other. We hardly speak, other than in monosyllables. We never even sit down to watch TV together. Hardly ever make love. . .
‘I feel as if I’ve fallen out of love with her, and other than for the kids, I don’t feel like going home any more. I’ve been off sick nearly two weeks and it’s been crap at home. I’ve just avoided her.’ He sighed.
‘I know she suffered a few years ago - when she herself got raped - and I suppose that should give us some common ground. I just don’t want to tell her, though. I haven’t told anyone but you, and that counsellor I saw down at Occupational Health. No one in the job knows, though like I said, Terry has an idea. Thank Christ he turned up when he did. That bastard Gunk was going to kill me. He’d threatened to stick a knife in my anus. . .’ Henry shuddered, ‘but he panicked when he heard Terry’s van coming back. No, I’ve just told people I got bubbled and that was why I pulled out of the U/C job - because I’d been compromised.’
There was a pause, then Henry regained eye-contact with Danny. ‘I don’t know if all that answers your question. It sounded like a jumbled mess to me, like all I’ve been saying. Did it make sense, or what?’
It was 2 a.m. Henry and Danny stood in her hallway. Henry was preparing to go, jacket in one hand, rolling his shirt-sleeves down with the other. They stood by the front door, facing each other.
‘Thanks again.’
‘No problem. Are you sure you won’t let me call a taxi? It’s a long way on foot to your house, and you’re not going to drive, are you?’
‘No.’ His car was outside the house. He had already driven there having had a few drinks and with the amount of alcohol he’d imbibed since, he would have been well over the limit, although he was not drunk. It was a risk he wasn’t about to take. There were too many uniformed PCs who would have liked the scalp of a DI on their belt. ‘The walk’ll clear my head.’
‘I’ll pick you up in the morning.’
‘Thanks.’ He reached for the door handle, bobbing down quickly and kissing Danny lightly on the cheek. Instead of pulling away immediately, he hovered longer than was necessary, inhaling the aroma of her body. She gasped.
Henry drew his head away, gave a quick smile and fumbled for the door again. ‘Must go.’
Danny could not stop herself. She reached out and laid a hand on the side of his face, beating herself up as she did so, yet finding it impossible to resist. Why, she demanded, do you want another married man, another heap of trouble and consequences? Why? Because you love the soft sod, that’s why.
‘You don’t have to go, Henry,’ she breathed. ‘Not yet, anyway.’
She stood on tiptoe and covered his mouth with her lips, forcing her tongue inside. He responded immediately, discarding his jacket and holding Danny’s head between his hands as they kissed urgently.
One hour later, Henry shook himself out of a doze. He was lying on his back, his left arm wrapped around Danny’s shoulders. She was tucked up underneath his armpit, her hand idly stroking his chest, touching his nipples as she dozed dreamily. Henry blinked and focused on the ceiling. Danny murmured contentedly and huddled in even closer to him, folding a leg across his thighs. Her hand drifted down to his groin and took hold of his limp penis which began to grow, but not by much.
Henry was drained. The act of a long bout of wonderful sex had taken all his energy and emotion out of him. He touched Danny’s cheek with his fingertips and they looked at each other.
‘That was out of this world,’ he admitted with a grin. ‘Sex doesn’t seem to be a problem after all.’
‘Now I want more and m
ore.’
Henry’s manhood responded to Danny’s gentle manipulation. He groaned throatily and languished in the sensation for a few moments before the reality of the situation dawned on him. Here he was, once again, lying beside a woman who was not his wife. Cheating.
He rolled on to his side so they lay face to face. His eyes flickered down to her wonderful, soft breasts with the big nipples hard as stones again. He kissed her, lingering for a moment, biting her bottom lip.
‘I need to tell you something.’ He ran his mouth across her cheek to her ear. ‘I’m ... ahhh!’ She had gently squeezed his testicles.
‘That we’re going to make love again?’ she guessed.
‘Very, very probably.’
She kissed him hard, and slid her long leg over him, pushing him back and straddling him, never once breaking the kiss or letting go of his cock which, now solid, she positioned for entry.
‘I want you to make me come again and again,’ she whispered.
‘I’m not sure I’m that good,’ he admitted honestly.
‘Oh, you are,’ she promised, ‘you are, you are,’ and slowly eased herself down on to his thick shaft, straight away starting to moan as her next orgasm built quickly. . . only to be interrupted by the sound of Henry’s pager which, during the throes of ripping each other’s clothes off earlier, had been tossed across the bedroom. ‘Shit,’ she said.
‘Don’t stop,’ he warned her. ‘Finish what you’ve started.’
And she did. Twice for herself, once for him, to the accompaniment of the high-pitched bleep.
Only then did Henry respond to the message, which was for him to contact Control Room immediately. The Duty Inspector told him that a security van had been found abandoned near to Stafford with a great deal of blood on the passenger side and no trace of the security guards or the money it had been carrying.
