‘I couldn’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well . . . Because.’
As if that was a valid answer.
‘Because why?’
She’d finished her drink, replacing the empty glass on the bar. She’d turned to him, staring at him . . . into him. But, she’d made no attempt at an answer.
‘So you love this fella, then?’ he had prodded.
‘Of course I love him.’
‘No you don’t.’
‘How dare you!’
‘If you did you would have said so before. But, you didn’t. You said only because.’
‘I don’t have to justify myself to you.’
He’d smiled capriciously. This spoilt, little rich girl wasn’t used to being pressed and opposed. She was flustered and he knew it. He felt it.
‘Have you ever cheated on him?’
Immediately her gaze dropped.
What was it they said? About the eyes being the windows to the soul? The unspoken truth was like a ten-ton weight anchored to her soul, dragging down her gaze until her head hung so low that it would have been pointless to try and deny it.
She was quiet then. Like a chided child. ‘You have. Haven’t you?’
‘They were mistakes.’
‘Mistakes?’ he had said with a grin, ‘Plural?’
‘Only twice. But, two different guys.’
He couldn’t help but laugh then and — to his surprise — the faintest of smiles had even curled the corners of Little Miss Not-So-Angelic’s lips. ‘Well, three’s the charm.’ he had said, ‘Wanna see if I can convince you that there’s other options out there?’
This is what he’d struck up the conversation for. It had taken the better part of an hour to get to this point, listening to the bollocks she’d whined on about; turning it all into such a fucking drama!
He hadn’t wanted any of that!
And just why she’d felt the need to open up and start divulging . . . to him . . . he had no idea.
‘I beg your pardon?’ she had said. Seeming genuinely surprised.
‘You heard me. We can go to your room if you want . . . or my suite.’ He reached out, taking her by the chin, holding her gaze. ‘See if we can’t broaden your horizons.’
It was all downhill from there.
‘Don’t take this the wrong way.’ she’d said, ‘but you’re not my type.’
The wrong way! Was there a right way to take a statement like that?
‘You little slut!’ He’d hissed, feeling the slap of her words as if they had been her palm across his cheek. ‘It’s girls like you that get a fella in trouble. Lead him on until he can’t control himself, then say No, I’ve changed my mind and have the cheek to whinge about the consequences.’
‘What are you talking — ’
‘Don’t say another word to me.’
Then he had stormed off. Angry, dejected. And horny as hell. But, there were too many people about on the open deck. Too many spectators to remember his face.
He couldn’t afford to cause a scene in the open.
But, he knew that eventually she’d leave the safety of the herd and return to her room. So he’d waited. Patiently.
Fairly patiently.
It wasn’t one of his better qualities, but still, he had waited.
He hung back again as Stacey rounded another corner. They were now well within the bowels of the ship and, as the day was turning out to be deliciously warm and dry, there was hardly another soul in sight.
Excellent.
Listening as she swiped her cardkey and waiting for the telltale click as the lock disengaged, he chose his moment perfectly, bolting quietly from his hiding place to Stacey’s room and jamming his foot in the door before it could close.
Stacey swung round curiously. Just in time to see him burst into the room.
The flat of his palm connected with her nose, breaking it instantly. She fell to the floor, clutching her face as he calmly closed the door behind him.
11:50
Saturday 14th May, 2011
Prior pulled himself out of the Olympic-sized swimming pool after only fourteen laps.
He was annoyed with himself for not finishing his usual set and irritated with Dr Cunningham for being so totally irresponsible that he now had to go and check up on him and possibly have to file a written warning against him.
Being Head of Security he got all the best jobs!
He didn’t want to have to issue Cunningham with a warning. He understood that people had problems. Sides of themselves they didn’t want to share with the rest of the world. Hell, he knew it all too well.
But, when it started to bleed into their professional life, when it started to affect their day to day performance . . . well, there were only so many times you could look the other way.
It was a shame too. Captain Andrews had never liked Cunningham. Perhaps he’d spotted the drink problem before the rest of them. Whatever the reason, a written warning — along with the other, smaller misdemeanours in his file — would give Andrews the ammunition he needed to build a strong case against Cunningham. To have him removed and replaced.
Prior didn’t want an atmosphere on the ship in the meantime. It was too restricted a space; too contained. Even for the enormous size of it.
He showered and dressed quickly, before making his way to the office.
To the Tin!
Davies smiled absently as Prior pushed in through the sliding glass doors. He didn’t return the smile.
‘Morning Guv’.’ Davies said, pouring a cupful of boiling water from a small plastic kettle. ‘D’you want one?’ he asked. Turning to look at his superior he saw the thunder in his face. ‘Is everything ok?’
Prior shook his head, checking through the day’s logs and rotas, looking for any messages. He picked up his security mobile phone — number eight — and checked the battery.
‘Have you heard anything from Dr Cunningham?’
Davies shook his head.
Prior sighed, dialling the number — followed by his code — to pick up any voice messages from crew reporting in sick that day. One message. His heart seemed to pause in anticipation as he waited.
It wasn’t Cunningham.
A lighting technician had injured her hand whilst rigging in the Delphic theatre space and would be out of action for the rest of the week.
Well, at least he knew that the messaging service was working. But that didn’t help in locating Cunningham.
‘He didn’t turn up this morning.’ Prior continued, hanging up the call and tucking the phone into the deep, knee-pocket of his black combat trousers. He liked trousers with plenty of pockets. Lots of room for . . . stuff.
‘D’you want me to go check his quarters?’
Prior flashed a brief smile at Davies. ‘You’ve just made yourself a brew. And I need to go and speak to Dr Matthews anyway, so I’ll check in on him on my way.’
‘What’ve you got to go see Dr Dildo for?’
Prior couldn’t help but smile. ‘You shouldn’t call her that. She’ll find out, you know.’
‘I’ll tell her that Kemp came up with it.’
Prior shook his head, laughing. Davies could be a right little shit at times, but he was a shit you could have a laugh with and — as odd as it seemed — Prior felt a sort of paternal duty towards the lad.
‘Why Dr . . . Why that name, anyway?’
‘Cos, she’s artificial! There’s just no feeling there.’ Davies said with grin, ‘She does the job all right, but she’s not quite the real deal, you know?’
Prior shook his head again, stifling a laugh, ‘She’s a perfectly . . . adequate doctor.’
‘Yeah, and a dildo is a perfectly adequate substitute. But, it isn’t real. It’s numb.’ Davies laughed out loud and watched Prior for a moment, knowing that the Security Chief understood him perfectly and maybe even agreed with him. A little. ‘So, come on then. What is it?’ he pushed, ‘You’re not out of Viagra al
ready are you?’
‘Cheeky bastard! Like I ever get the chance.’
‘I don’t know, Guv’. There’s a few people on board with a bit of a thing for you.’ Davies paused, ‘I don’t see it personally, but, there’s no official check on individual taste is there. Although, you think they’d pick something up on the mental stability assessments!’
‘D’you know, it’s a good job I like you.’ Prior said, ‘Anyway. Right. I’ll be back shortly.’ He made his way through the small office, pausing as he reached the door and turning back to Davies. ‘And anyway, Viagra? Just, how old do you think I am?’
‘It’s not just about age, Guv’.’ Davies grinned, pulling a packet of rich tea biscuits out of the metal cabinet draw, ‘there’s all sorts that can affect your, er . . . performance, you know. At least that’s what they’re saying on the telly.’
‘Well, there’s nothing affecting me apart from a lack of opportunity.’
‘Denial doesn’t help either, you know.’
‘You’re going the right way for a slap, you lad.’
Davies chuckled and dunked the biscuit into his cup, throwing a wink at Prior as he pushed out of the room with a small grin on his face.
Making his way through the ship, he soon found himself stood before Dr Cunningham’s door.
Knocking. Waiting. Knocking a second . . . third, fourth time.
No answer.
Shit.
Now he was officially AWOL. Now there would be no way of avoiding a written warning.
‘Cunningham.’ Prior said to no one but himself, ‘You daft bastard.’
12:40
Saturday 14th May, 2011
Kelly pressed into the Grande Central conservatory, grappling with the heavy glass door as she struggled not to spill her black coffee all over the battered portfolio tucked under her arm.
Christine was sat in the far corner. Near an open door. Thank the gods for a breeze!
Thank them too that she was still here at all.
Pleasantly surprised, Kelly made her way towards her new-found friend knowing that she herself would never have waited this long for some random girl she’d only just met. Especially when it was looking more and more likely that she was going to be stood up.
But, Christine was still here. What a diamond.
Did that mean she was interested? As in interested interested. Or maybe it was just one of those ‘comes with age’ things; a greater sense of patience. Either way, she was more than pleased to see Christine who — seeming to sense her presence — looked up and beamed a full-toothed, glimmering brown-eyed smile as she approached the table.
‘I was worried I might have missed you.’ she said taking the seat opposite Christine and hauling the portfolio onto the chair besides her.
‘I was beginning to think you might have changed your mind.’ she said, in soft accented tones. And though she strived to keep a lightness to it, there was an unmistakable break, a twinge of something like sadness in Christine’s voice.
Kelly felt instantly, horribly guilty. Which — she noted — was unusual for her.
While Christine did not seem embarrassed by the emotion which had just betrayed her, she did appear more than a little bit eager to move the conversation along. ‘But, here you are, so . . . . have you eaten?’
‘No. I just grabbed this on the way. Help me wake up.’
‘You just woke up?’
‘Not long ago, yeah.’ said Kelly, stifling a grin at the mock-reprimand as she sipped her coffee.
‘At least I know you weren’t just messing me around then. You know, contemplating whether or not to come and meet me at all . . . . Should I stay? Should I go? Should I forget the whole thing or simply play hard to get.’
‘Wow . . . you’ve been thinking about this a lot.’
‘I’ve had the time to.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Besides, I’m a psychologist.’ Christine continued as Kelly feigned a wounded look, ‘It’s kind of what I do. When you spend as much time as I do trying to get inside other people’s heads, trying to understand why they do the things they do; how and why they make those decisions . . . well, it’s a hard habit to break. You can’t just . . . switch off.’
‘So I guess that means you’re always turned on.’ Kelly said, cheekily, ‘Lucky lady.’
Christine flicked her eyebrow, ‘You’re incorrigible, Kelly Livingstone. I’ll give you that.’
‘Ooh, I like it when you say my name.’
Kelly took another sip of coffee, her eyes locked on Christine who chuckled, shaking her head. She watched her parted lips as she laughed, spying a small chip in the left front-tooth of Christine’s otherwise pristine pearly-whites.
‘So . . . all this head stuff,’ Kelly said, ‘does it help?’
‘Well, it’s enabled me to help the police solve a fair few cases in the past.’
‘Yeah? Like through profiling killers and stuff?’
‘Amongst other things.’ Christine said with a nod.
‘And what did the Coppers make of you, then?’
Christine’s half-smile was a stifled mirroring of Kelly’s wide, impish grin as she contemplated her answer. ‘They . . . warmed to me. Eventually.’
‘I bet.’ Kelly said, finishing her coffee. She leaned forward, sliding the mug across the table, out of the way. ‘So, who gets to analyse you?’
‘Oh no. No, No one should ever have to suffer that particular ordeal.’
Kelly cocked her head. Waiting.
Silence.
She really wasn’t budging.
‘Is that why you carry this around?’ she ventured, nodding towards Christine’s journal.
For the briefest of moments Kelly watched as the brown-eyed beauty before her flushed a deep crimson; purple flecks suddenly mottling the curve of her cheeks.
‘I suppose I do self-analyse more than enough to make up for anyone else having to do the job.’ she said, resigned.
‘Well, if you ever need to air anything . . . out loud, I mean . . . sometimes a problem shared is a problem halved. That’s what they say, isn’t it?’ Kelly paused, thinking for a moment as that small, curling smile returned to Christine’s lips, ‘Although in my case it’s usually “a problem shared is equal to the hypotenuse of a right-angled pain-in-the-arse divided by the amount of time invested in any given circumstance and multiplied by the enjoyment of that particular engagement”!’
Christine laughed out loud, trying not to spill the last of the tea in her cup. ‘You’re insane!’
‘Is that your professional opinion, Dr Kane?’
‘It may be the basis of a good, solid preliminary diagnosis, yes. Dr Livingstone.’
‘Oh, don’t.’ Kelly shuddered, ‘At least you deserve your title, you worked for it . . .’
‘And I’m sure you worked for yours too.’
‘Maybe. I suppose. But, mainly I just did it to shut my Gran up!’
‘Oh?’
‘She’s, well . . . she’s a formidable woman. And by that I mean scary as shit!’ Kelly said, nodding emphatically, ‘I was practically drafted into doing my Phd!’
Another silence descended, heavy and thick. Kelly took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, her eyes falling away from Christine entirely, ‘My mum and dad had been putting money away for me since I was born . . . they had wanted me to go to university and do well for myself.’
‘They must be very proud of you.’
Kelly smiled sadly, ‘I know what you’re doing.’
Christine held up her hands. ‘How old were you when it happened?’
‘Five. This police officer and — I think — a social worker picked me up from school. I’d been waiting ages. They took me to . . . I don’t know . . . a foster house. I only stayed the one night.’
‘What happened?’
‘D’you mean did I run away?’
‘No.’ Christine paused, then reconsidered. ‘Did you?’
Kelly shook her head. ‘They took me to m
y Gran’s the next day. She’d been at the Bingo hall the day before. Always tryin’ her luck that woman . . . and to be fair, she usually did quite well. Rarely came home empty-handed, even if she only won a tenner.’
‘Lucky lady.’
‘Oh, she was.’ Kelly shifted in her chair and shuddered, clearing her throat. And Christine knew that was the end of that conversation. For now.
‘So, are you going to allow me the opportunity to take a look at your work?’ she asked evenly.
‘I don’t know. Would you let me read your journal?’
Christine eyed Kelly. This one was a test. ‘One day . . . I might allow you to suffer that unfortunate pleasure.’
Kelly smiled, ‘Then I’ll look forward to that day with a spring in my step and a song in my heart!’
Christine laughed out loud once more. ‘You really are a crazy, crazy lady, Kelly Livingstone. And that is my professional opinion.’
‘Well good. ‘Cause you know what they say, Doc . . . Two’s company.’
13:00
Saturday 14th May, 2011
Prior rounded the corridor and entered the Medical Bay with such an intense speed that the duty nurse physically jumped, spilling a tray of freshly sterilised instruments across the non-slip vinyl floor.
‘Natalia!’ Dr Matthews hissed as she flitted from one surface to the next, then to the pc, the cabinet, another surface and back again. Prior had no idea what she was doing.
Looking busy. He thought.
The nurse stuttered an inaudible apology while the look on her face conveyed her hopes of being swallowed up by the ground she was now kneeling on.
‘Now they will all need to be sterilised again. As if there isn’t enough to be done!’ she said, turning on Prior like a predator. ‘And what do you want?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I’m sorry, Prior. I’m a little stressed at the moment.’
‘Cunningham still hasn’t shown up then?’
‘How did you know?’ she asked, an odd expression pinched across her tight face.
‘Because, I’ve spent a good chunk of my morning looking for the daft . . .’ Prior stopped himself. He wasn’t with Davies or Kemp, or any of the other lads now. It hadn’t been a great morning, but that was no excuse to forget himself. ‘I’ve just come from his quarters. There was no response there and no one’s seen him since last night.’
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