This
is the fifth story in the After Larkhall series.
This was posted to my site on December 18, 2007.
Bound &
Determined
Across the gravesite, Monica Lindsay wept quietly, while her friend, Palmo, patted her consolingly on the back. Eventually, the vicar meandered to the end of a service that showed no recognition of who Shaz had really been. The formalities over, Monica and Palmo immediately headed for the car, as did the vicar, anxious to get to dryer conditions. Helen didn’t move, so Nikki stayed as well, holding the umbrella to keep the worst of the rain off them, maintaining a steady presence at her side.
“It’s shit that none of her friends could be here,” Helen said finally, in a voice that grated. “It’s shit that Denny couldn’t be here.”
“Even if Larkhall wasn’t in lockdown, they wouldn’t have been able to come.” Nikki sighed quietly. “But they’ll hold a memorial service of some kind, and remember her in their hearts. That’s what really counts in the end, not seeing the remains buried.”
Helen sniffed and blinked back tears. “It’s still shit.”
Helen felt Nikki slip her arm around her shoulders, squeezing her lightly. “Shit happens.”
It was said kindly, but it still cut to the bone because Helen knew how sadly truthful it was. She swallowed hard and tried not to weep. “I never thanked you.”
“For what?”
“For taking care of everything. For paying for the plot and arranging for a stone.”
“We took care of it, Helen, it came out of our joint account.”
Helen knew about the joint account. They each took the same percentage of their income and placed it into an account for household expenses and joint ventures. The difference was that Helen’s percentage was usually less than three hundred quid per month, while Nikki’s numbered in the thousands because of co-owning the most successful lesbian nightclub in the city. It was a discomforting reality of their respective economic worth and Helen was still adapting to it.
“Thank you anyway for organizing everything.”
Nikki was quiet for a moment, “You’re welcome,” she said finally. It didn’t sound as if it was what she wanted to say but she didn’t add anything to it. Instead, she leaned over and kissed Helen’s forehead. “Come on. You’ll catch cold standing here.”
Helen hesitated, taking a long last look at the casket as nearby, the diggers waited impatiently, anxious to fill in the grave and head home for tea. Finally, she reached out and laid a gentle hand on the top before allowing Nikki to draw her away. In the passenger seat of Nikki’s Porsche, she leaned her head against the glass and stared out at the rain as Nikki navigated out of the twisty lanes of the cemetery and back onto the city streets. She didn’t speak as they headed for home but Helen could feel the weight of the silence between them, could sense how much Nikki wanted to ask her something but was reluctant to.
“I always hated funerals,” Helen offered finally. “Ever since…” She faltered, swallowing hard.
“Your mum.”
“Yeah.” Helen, still staring out the window, felt Nikki take her hand and grip it tightly. She closed her eyes, and the tears she’d held back finally overflowed and slid down her cheeks. Nikki just held her hand, releasing it periodically to shift, but always returning her grasp so that Helen knew she was there, and that she understood. By the time they arrived at their flat, Helen had cried herself out, eyes swollen, but feeling lighter somehow.
The private car park where they kept their vehicles was down the block from the building containing Libertà, the café Nikki now owned and operated after discovering that managing a nightclub wasn’t conducive to living with someone who worked eight to five every weekday. Closing at two in the afternoon, it allowed Nikki to be there when Helen got home after work, and to do such things as attend a three o’clock funeral.
Two floors above, in the spacious flat they shared, Helen took off her coat and put it in the closet, along with Nikki’s. Pausing by the floor-to-ceiling pane of an etched rose in frosted glass that bisected the arch leading from the foyer to the rest of the dwelling, she watched as Nikki placed her car keys in the computer desk. Dressed entirely in black, the outfit was tailored exquisitely for Nikki’s lean, lanky form. She looked like a fashion plate, even when going to a funeral. Her short, dark hair curled around nicely shaped ears and at the back of her neck, reaching past the collar of her linen shirt. Her dark eyes rose and she met Helen’s gaze, an eyebrow lifting inquiringly.
“You need a haircut,” Helen said huskily, rather than the soppy thing she really wanted to say. After all, it wouldn’t do for Nikki to know how completely besotted she was. A girl had to maintain a little advantage in a relationship.
Nikki smiled crookedly, reaching up to tug at her hair. “I am getting a bit shaggy, aren’t I? I haven’t had time to go to the hairdresser this month.”
And of course, Helen found that completely adorable, as well. Almost involuntarily, she moved toward the waiting embrace, surrendering to the loving strength of Nikki’s arms.
“Are you all right, Helen?” Nikki asked quietly as she held her tight.
Helen molded her body to hers, wanting to feel as much of her against her as she could manage. “Not really,” she muttered into the warm curve of Nikki’s shoulder and neck. “But I will be.”
Nikki made a small sound, either assent or dismay at her partner’s disquiet, but didn’t say anything. She just held her and it was all Helen could want or need, cosseted in this place of complete love and security. Finally, she felt Nikki’s lips brush over the curve of her ear, nuzzling her gently.
“Any word from Della?”
Helen sighed. “Not yet. She promised she’d have a definite answer by this Friday, so I’ll know tomorrow, one way or another.”
A few weeks earlier, she had presented a proposal to her boss at the Home Office’s Correctional & Rehabilitation Policy Unit where she worked as a programs coordinator. She hoped to be able to create and personally administer individual programs for those female inmates that slipped through the cracks, just as Shaz had done. It meant going into the prisons again, and dealing with each case separately, but it was the sort of work at which Helen thrived. And it was the sort of work that she’d missed the most since joining the Unit.
Helen didn’t want to think about what she would do if the proposal was turned down. Della had seemed relatively enthusiastic about the idea, but she also answered to a higher authority in the Home Office who might be less than keen about one of their members spending so much time dealing with prisoners serving life in prison. But Helen knew she could make a difference with them. She already had. The proof was holding her.
Nikki Wade had been serving a life sentence for killing a cop who had tried to rape her girlfriend, Trisha. While working as the governor of G-wing, Helen had been inexplicably drawn to the brooding, tragic figure, initially intrigued, then attracted and finally falling in love with her. Because Helen hadn’t given up on her despite their many setbacks, Nikki eventually had her murder sentence reduced on appeal to manslaughter with time served.
They couldn’t all be saved, but Helen knew there were others like Nikki who had been unfairly treated by the system, and needed the sort of help she could provide. If she couldn’t work for them through the Unit, then she’d find another way, even if it meant going out on her own. It was a daunting thought, but she knew that she’d have the full support of her partner behind her and that was all she ever really needed.
“I love you, Nikki,” she said quietly, tightening her embrace. “Do I tell you that enough?”
“Well, it’s always nice to hear, but yeah, Helen, I know you love me.” Nikki kissed her ear lightly. “I hope you know how I feel.”
“God, I always know how you feel, and how you felt, from the first moment you made me touch your breast in the potting shed. It’s me who doesn’t always know how to show it.”
“Well,
if you want to
force me to
touch your breast, I think I could manage not to recoil in horror.”
Helen
smiled ruefully. “I was such a berk back then, wasn’t I?”
“You were on the cusp of a great revelation,” Nikki told her fondly. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you through it a bit more rather than just making it all harder to deal with.”
“You didn’t make it harder, Nikki. God, I wouldn’t have even had the revelation if it weren’t for you.”
“I think you would have figured it out eventually.”
“Really? I don’t see how.”
“Oh, easy. When Claire broke up with Heather, she would have started looking around, spotted you all ripe and ready, and the next thing you know, she’d have shagged you silly, thus putting you in touch with your true self.”
That was so patently ridiculous that Helen had to laugh, which she suspected had been Nikki’s sole intention in the first place, helping her chase away the last of the shadows plaguing her since the funeral. Claire was Helen’s best friend and while she loved her dearly, she had never found her the slightest bit attractive, nor Claire, her. They just weren’t each other’s type. Helen liked them tall, dark and handsome, or in Nikki’s case, beautiful. Claire was slight and slender, with dark blonde hair and a formidable intelligence that often left Helen confounded. Claire had known she was gay since very young, though she didn’t officially come out until university. Helen had arrived at the conclusion a great deal later in life…to the complete astonishment of them both.
“Speaking of Claire, have you heard from her lately?” Nikki asked.
Helen shook her head. “Not since the party. Do you think she and Trisha…”
“I don’t know, but I haven’t come across Trisha either. The couple of times I stopped by the club, she’s been out. And she hasn’t returned my calls.”
“They must be shagging each other’s brains out.”
Nikki smiled in remembrance. “We did in the beginning.”
“Once I convinced you it would be all right,” Helen said dryly.
“Hey, a girl can’t give it up too easily, you know.”
“Oh,
that was the
thinking, was it?
I was under the impression you were just being bloody minded.”
“Maybe
a little,” Nikki laughed.
Helen
kissed her neck
and then her
cheek. “Tell me, Nikki, is it weird having your ex-girlfriend dating my
best
friend?”
“I think
it’s weirder for them, but
that’s lesbians for you, Helen.” Nikki shrugged and looked at her with
a half
smile. “We mix it up with each other so much, it’s practically
incestuous.”
Inside the building, she used her key to open the door to the nightclub and crossed the darkened, empty dance floor. A thin beam of light was visible under the office door by the bar and she headed toward it. Hesitating briefly, she wondered if she should knock now that Trisha had a girlfriend. She might walk in on something she’d rather not see. On the other hand, Claire should be at work this time of day, so she took a chance and opened the door.
Trisha glanced up from where she was working on the computer, eyebrow lifting slightly as she identified her visitor. “Hi, Nikki.”
Nikki studied her a moment, trying to determine if anything had changed. Trisha might have appeared a little more relaxed than in recent times, but Nikki couldn’t be sure.
“Hiya. What’s with not returning my calls or checking your emails?”
Trisha smile faintly, returning her attention to the screen. “Haven’t been home much, lately. Why don’t you try emailing me here once in a while.”
Nikki checked the time again and settled into the chair across the desk from her. “So why haven’t you been home lately?”
Trisha’s cheeks colored slightly, but she didn’t look up. “Figure it out, Nikki.”
Nikki smiled broadly, vastly amused. “Oh, I think I already figured it out. I just want it confirmed.”
“I was unaware it was any of your business.”
“It’s not, but you know you’re just dying to share all the gory details with someone, so it might as well be me.” Trisha frowned at Nikki who grinned cheerfully back at her. “Well?”
“God, Nikki, we’re working it out, all right?” Letting her breath out in a huff, Trisha pushed her chair back from the desk.
“Sounds grim. Is she that bad in bed?”
“Jesus, Nikki.” The tone of exasperation was very familiar. “It’s not like that at all.” All of a sudden, Trisha’s stern mien dissolved into a rather goofy grin. “She’s fantastic. More than I could have ever imagined.”
“Better than me?” Nikki made sure she sounded properly incredulous.
Trisha picked up the nearest file and flung it at her. Nikki laughed and ducked, invoices from the brewery and receipts from the cash-and-carry raining over her from the brown folder. Feeling a little guilty about taking the piss with what was clearly a too-easy target, she helped Trisha pick them up before restoring the folder to the desk. “Well, just answer me this, then; are you happy?”
“So far, it’s good,” Trisha said briskly as she resumed her seat. “That’s all I can ask.”
Nikki eyed her narrowly. “Scared of enjoying it, Trish? You can, you know.”
“I know. I’m just being careful.”
“Aw, embrace it, Trish.”
“Weren’t you the one warning me off this whole thing in the beginning?”
“Yeah, but since you were so bound and determined to get involved despite all my good advice, there’s no point in holding back now.” Nikki shrugged lightly. “Just don’t do that thing you do.”
Brows drawing down, Trisha glared at her. “What thing?”
“That thing you do where you’re convinced it’s all going to go wrong if you enjoy it too much. It cheats you. And it cheats Claire.”
That stung Trisha, Nikki could see, but she couldn’t see any other way of saying it. Not that it was necessarily her place to say it, of course, but who better than someone who’d been with her for nine years and knew all her quirks inside and out.
“I don’t do that.”
“Of course you do. With us, it was two years before you finally relaxed and started to appreciate what you had. Try appreciating it from the beginning this time.” Nikki thought about Shaz and the life she’d never be able to experience, sadness surging strong through her chest. “Life’s too bloody short otherwise.”
Trisha immediately sobered. “What’s wrong, ‘Nik?”
Embarrassed that she’d let it show so blatantly, Nikki dipped her head. “Did you hear about the fire at Larkhall?”
“Caught it on the news. Did you know anyone there?”
“Yeah, my cellmate, Barbara was injured. One of the kids I knew on the wing, Shaz…she died. Her funeral was yesterday.”
“Aw, hell, I’m sorry, Nikki.”
“Yeah, Helen was pretty shaken up by it all. She worked with Shaz at one time, you see. But I think a lot of it is imagining what could have happened had I still been banged up in there. It’s understandable, I suppose. Her replacement as Number One barely made it out alive. It makes me sick to think about it.” She sighed and put her feet up on the desk. “And she’s a little dissatisfied at work. She likes more hands on with her cases.”
“Like she was with you, you mean?” Trisha offered dryly.
Nikki paused, tried not to smile at the comment, and finally had to. “She’s pitching a new idea to her boss and if she gets the go-ahead, she’ll be working directly with women inmates again. I trust history won’t be repeating itself,” she added wryly.
Trisha lifted her brow. “You know, I really hope you don’t expect me to confide in you about Claire like this.”
“What? You think it’s odd, us being friends like this?”
“Don’t you?”
Nikki thought about it and then shrugged. “I think any relationship is what two people make it. I like being friends with you, Trish, but if it’s a problem---“
“I’m not saying that, ‘Nik,” she interrupted quickly. “I’m just saying…Claire and Helen are friends. Do you think they talk about us this way?”
Nikki blinked. “I don’t know. Probably.”
Actually, she had never really thought about it before. She knew that Helen confided in Claire, of course, but just how far did that go? Did she just talk about the relationship as a concept or did she actually talk about the gritty details of their sex life? While Nikki shared things with Trisha, she never wandered into the bedroom. Part of that was propriety, but mostly it was about not wanting to hurt Trisha on some level because of their past. Helen wouldn’t necessarily have that concern with Claire. Nikki felt her head start to ache.
“Bullocks.”
“My point exactly. Where are the lines, Nikki? I never used to talk to Amanda like this when you and I were together.”
“Of course you didn’t, Mandy was a muppet.” Nikki said dismissively. She’d never gotten on with Trisha’s friend from the local FE College. “Whatever happened to her, anyway?”
“Moved to Spain. Wanted to be near the beach, apparently.”
“And anyway, you never slept with her.”
Trisha just stared at her.
“You did?” Nikki shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “You never told me.”
“I was just returning the courtesy. I didn’t want to hear about all your conquests before me either.”
“We weren’t together long enough,” Nikki muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re such a gobshite, Nikki.”
Nikki laughed. “Seriously, babes, it means a lot to me that we’re able to stay friends.”
“It means a lot to me, too. I just don’t want there to be any misunderstandings, particularly now that I’m with Claire.”
“There you go, jumping at shadows again.”
“Go to work, ‘Nik.”
Nikki glanced at her watch and jumped to her feet. “Shit. I didn’t mean to stay so long.”
Out on the pavement, Nikki strode rapidly up the street to her café. She’d left Kate, one of her employees, in charge, so she wasn’t overly worried about it, but she still liked to be there in the event anything went wrong. Inside Libertà, it was packed with the typical Friday lunch crowd of suits from the local businesses. At full capacity, they could seat about forty and it seemed like every chair had an arse on it with more waiting at the counter. Nikki didn’t hesitate. She whipped off her coat, tossed it into the office at the back, and started waiting tables.
By the time two rolled around and the last of the punters had trailed out, she was nearly dead on her feet, as was her staff. She tried to rotate them so that they each had a couple of days off through the week, though they all worked on Friday and Saturday. Nikki worked every day, as the cook when Pam was off, or as waitress when either Kate or Jenna was off. She wondered if it was time to hire more people. Let Kate manage things a couple of days of week and give Nikki a break so she could have some time, not only for herself, but with Helen as well. They really couldn’t go out in the evening, even on the weekends, because Nikki had to be up so early. The only problem with that idea was while Nikki trusted Kate, it was only to a point. She’d spent a couple of years in prison for embezzlement and though Nikki didn’t think Kate would rip her off, there was no need to lead her into temptation by granting her ready access to the safe, either.
She’d have to think about it, she decided. And maybe give Monica a call and let her know she was looking to take on an additional project or two.
Once the café was cleaned for the next day and she had ushered her staff out, it was nearly half three. After balancing the till and placing the day’s takings in the safe, she locked the doors and headed upstairs. In the flat, she assembled a casserole from leftovers, spread herbs and grated cheese over it, which made practically anything edible, and tossed the whole thing into the oven to bake.
In the ensuite shower, she scrubbed away the lingering smells of cooking oil from her body, wanting to leave it all downstairs. After dressing in a white vest and a pair of jeans, she returned to the kitchen just in time to see Helen coming through the door. There was a discernable sparkle in those gorgeous green eyes and a sprightly spring to her step that couldn’t be missed.
“Good news, I gather,” she said as Helen tossed her briefcase on the desk and seized Nikki by the arms.
“It’s bloody great news.” Helen was giddy, just as she’d been when she told Nikki that her appeal was going forward.
Nikki couldn’t help but be infected with her obvious exhilaration. She smiled and gripped her elbows. “Della agreed to your outreach programs.”
“I’ll start gathering a caseload on Tuesday.” Helen told her. “Della’s allowed me two days a week to start with. If it goes well, I’m hoping it could become full-time. Only thing is, travel expenses will probably have to come out of my wage packet for a while, at least until we can make a case for funding---“
“Don’t worry about the money, darling,” Nikki interrupted. “We’re more than comfortable and even if we weren’t, this is what you want. We’d find a way to make it work.”
Helen
stared at her
and it was
almost as if words failed her. Then she nearly knocked Nikki off her
feet as
she wrapped her arms around her neck and kissed her until she was
breathless.
And clearly would have taken things
much further if they hadn’t smelled the casserole starting to crisp.
“What?” Nikki’s dark eyes caressed Helen with their loving gaze. “You’ve had a brilliant day. Why the long face?”
Helen shook her head slightly. “Everything’s so good at the moment. I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Christ!” Nikki threw up her hands. “You and Trisha make a right pair. She gets ants in her pants when things start going well for her, too.”
“You saw Trisha?”
“I decided it was about time the mountain paid a visit to Mohammed, so I popped into the club.”
“Did she say anything about her and Claire?”
Nikki nodded. “They’re getting on great, so great in fact that Trisha’s convinced herself it’s only a matter of time before the rug’s pulled out from under her.” Nikki reached over and entwined her fingers with Helen’s. “Why can’t you two just accept that you deserve good things to happen to you?”
“This coming from the woman who always ascribes the worst connotation to anything that happens.”
“That was when I was in Larkhall.”
Helen lifted her brow. “Remember when you found your letter in my crap drawer last spring?”
“Fresh out of Larkhall, then.” Nikki made a face at her. “And it was after that incident that I stopped being so bloody minded.”
Helen squeezed her fingers. “True, you did.” She exhaled slowly. “It’s just that in the past things never seemed to work out for me, Nikki. I suppose I’m not used to this.”
“Well, has it occurred to you that now you’ve stopped struggling so much against what life hands you, it all comes much easier?”
“God, is it really that simple?”
“It can be.” Nikki leaned forward, gaze intent on Helen’s. “I know that in Larkhall, I was bitter and fighting every day, even when there wasn’t anything to fight. It was bloody exhausting. I barely had the sense to latch on to the best thing that could ever happen to me. Even then, I did my best to drive you away, what with my crazy jealousy and temper tantrums. It’s only when I concentrated on my appeal and accepted what happened to me that I got you back.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’d have always come back to you no matter what. It just took me a while to come to my senses.” Helen brought Nikki’s hand up to her lips, kissing the palm, and the inside of her wrist. “And you weren’t bitter, you were passionate. You didn’t fight everything, just injustice. It’s what made me fall in love with you.”
“What? It wasn’t my looks?”
“Well, those, too.” Helen smiled and reached out, slipping her hand around Nikki’s head and bringing her lips to her in a long, slow kiss. Her fingers teased the trimmed hairs at the back of her neck. “I see you finally managed to make it to the hairdresser’s.”
“Yeah. Had my legs waxed, too…among other things.”
Helen winced. “Ouch. Why don’t you make do with a razor and clippers like the rest of us?”
“I had four years of slicing myself to ribbons at Larkhall. Now it’s time for the professionals to take care of it.”
“I’m not sure I like the idea of professionals waxing my woman down there.”
“Yeah, because the agonized grimace on my face is sooo sexy.” Nikki kissed her. “Besides, you love how smooth everything is, which is a world of difference from the night I escaped. It’s a wonder you didn’t get lost in all that undergrowth.”
Helen couldn’t help it. She had to laugh. “I managed.”
“Ah, yes, my intrepid little explorer.” Nikki kissed her again, her mouth lingering on Helen’s. “So, are we finished dinner?”
Helen, whose plate was still mostly full, didn’t hesitate. “Completely.”
Nikki jumped up and scooped up their plates, bearing them off to the fridge. Helen quickly blew out the candles, grabbed the bottle of champagne and two glasses and scurried off to the bedroom. By the time Nikki joined her, Helen had more candles lit, two fresh glasses poured and was already half undressed, naked to the waist.“I had to put away the rest of the casserole.” Her eyes raked over Helen’s torso, a slight curl to the corner of her mouth as she accepted the champagne. “Love your waitressing technique.”
“You could always give me a job in the café if this Home Office thing doesn’t work out.”
“My license doesn’t cover that kind of uniform.” Nikki wrapped a long arm around Helen’s waist and pulled her to her. “Besides, we couldn’t handle the increase in business. We’re packed out at lunchtime as it is.”
Helen smiled and snuggled into her body, loving how the soft cotton of Nikki’s vest felt against her bare skin. When Nikki kissed her, her mouth tasting of champagne and deep desire, it heralded a most wonderful end to a very successful day.
Early in the morning, she felt Nikki leave their bed for the bistro, but she was too pleasantly sated and relaxed from their evening long exertions to do anything but roll over and resume her slumber. Some indeterminate time later, she finally emerged from her sleep, completely rested and refreshed and feeling a touch guilty about enjoying her lie in so much when Nikki wasn’t able to share it with her. She wondered if she should suggest that Nikki take on some extra help to give her some time off. It would be nice to spend some mornings in bed the way they used to just after Nikki’s release from Larkhall. The trouble was that Nikki had jumped into the whole café business to begin with just so that she could spend her evenings with Helen. Was Helen being greedy in wanting Nikki to be there all through the weekend as well? Sighing, she realized it wasn’t something she could easily answer and slipped out of bed.
Positively starved after not finishing dinner the night before, Helen padded into the ensuite, took a quick shower and wrapped a robe around her body. Before she could reach the fridge and the previous evening’s leftovers, the intercom buzzed and she was diverted to the foyer.
“Yes?”
“It’s Claire.”
“Oh, my God, come on up.”
Tightening the tie of her robe, a little embarrassed that she wasn’t yet dressed, Helen opened the door just as Claire reached the top of the staircase. “Where the hell have you been?” she exclaimed as she hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks. You don’t return my messages, you don’t answer your email…I was starting to think you died.”
“I’ve been busy,” Claire told her briskly as she entered the flat. She shot a look at Helen’s robe. “Have I come at a bad time?”
“No, I’m just running a little late,” Helen replied cheerfully. “So you’ve been ‘busy’. Is that what they call shagging one’s brains out now?”
To her great delight, Claire blushed furiously, and with her fair skin, it was impressive indeed. Taking her arm, Helen led her into the living room where she settled her on the sofa. Perched on the settee, she pinned her friend with a look of pure expectation. “Tell me everything.”
Claire hesitated, and then blushed again. “It’s been just amazing, Helen. Trisha is just so wonderful and loving and there’s this thing she does with her tong—“
“Stop!” Helen held up her hand. “I meant; tell me everything but what Trisha’s like as a lover. I don’t need to know anything about that.”
Claire was outraged. “That’s not fair! You told me everything about Nikki’s abilities in bed. Bragged about them, in fact.”
“That’s different. Nikki wasn’t Heather’s ex.”
“Well, she’s Trisha’s ex!”
“But you weren’t seeing Trisha at the time I was telling you about Nikki,” Helen explained patiently. “Once you started seeing Trisha, I stopped telling you about Nikki.”
“What was left to tell?” Claire stared at Helen, completely stymied. “And where do you come up with these rules, anyway, Helen? I swear to God.”
“They’re not rules, they’re just etiquette.”
“Only in Helen Stewart land.”
“Look, I can’t have this conversation in my dressing-gown. There’s a casserole in the fridge. Stick it in the microwave while I get dressed.”
Claire shook her head, letting her breath out in a huff but she moved to the kitchen while Helen went off to the bedroom. After she changed her robe for a light blue Chix t-shirt and a pair of jeans, she rejoined Claire just as she was pulling the casserole from the microwave, steam rising from the cheesy surface.
“What the hell is this, anyway?”
“A Nikki Special, which means it’s delicious. Trust me on that.” Helen moved to the kitchen cabinets and started to pull out plates and utensils. “There’s a bottle of wine in the cooler.” Once they were finally seated, she smiled brightly at Claire. “Now, before we talk, just answer me this one question.”
“What?”
“Are you happy?”
“Ecstatic.” Claire smiled broadly.
Helen lifted her glass. “So am I.” And she was. If nothing else, recent events had clarified her professional position and granted her a new direction to pursue. Her personal life was, of course, just about perfect at this point. “So let’s drink to happiness and the women who contribute to it." After taking a healthy swallow of the wine, she pinned Claire with a look. “Now tell me all about you and Trisha, and try to leave out the dirty bits.”
“What’s the point without the dirty bits?”
“There’s more to life than sex, Claire.”
“Spoken like a woman who’s been getting some on a regular basis.”
Helen thought about the previous evening and wondered if she looked as smug as she felt. She must have because Claire picked up a piece of garlic bread and threw it at her. “Hey, it’s obvious you’ve joined the ranks. So tell me, do you love her?”
That stopped Claire dead, her face hardening into stone. Helen immediately straightened in her seat and sobered. “Do you?”
“It’s too early to tell.”
“Bollocks. Do you love her?”
Claire stared at her, suddenly furious. “If I tell you, you can’t tell Nikki, because if you do, then she’ll tell Trisha.”
Helen inhaled slowly. Keeping things from Nikki was not a promise she gave easily, even to her best friend. But she supposed Claire had a point. It was complicated having her best friend date her partner’s ex. “All right, I won’t tell Nikki.”
Claire suddenly slumped, anger dissipating into what might have almost been despair. “I don’t know. I thought I loved Heather…no, I know I loved her, but I don’t remember it ever being this strong…this bloody intense, Helen. I think about Trisha all the time. We have such different hours that I can’t see her as much as I want or need to. When I’m with her, all I want to do is crawl into her arms and never leave. It nearly kills me when we have to say good-bye.”
Helen blinked. “Oh. Um, okay.”
“And I have no idea how she feels.”
“Probably like a woman who’s taking a chance after having her heart broken. Sound familiar? Come on, Claire, what makes you think she isn’t as screwed up about this as you are?”
Tears sprang to Claire’s eyes. “The worst part is that we talked about all this before we slept together, but making love changed everything.”
Helen took a sip of wine, remembering how she felt the day after she and Nikki first made love…and she had returned her to Larkhall. It had been more than she could bear, so she’d shoved the feelings deep inside herself, so deeply that she almost lost touch with them, believing them gone rather than merely buried and impacting everything she did.
“It does change everything,” she admitted. “And I get why you’re so wound up about it. But you need to talk to Trisha, because she’s the only one who can answer your questions. And you’re the only one who can answer hers.”
Claire
looked at her
bleakly. “What
if I don’t like the answers?”
Helen smiled without humor. “Well,
that’s the unfortunate thing, Claire. If it’s not driving you
completely mad,
then I reckon it’s not really love.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“No?” Bemused, Nikki nuzzled into the warmth of her neck. “Why not?”
“Because I promised Claire I wouldn’t.”
“Ah, because I might tell Trisha? I see what you mean.”
“You do?” Helen turned her head, and in the muted illumination of the nightlight by the ensuite door, Nikki could see her expression was anxious. “I’m having a really hard time with it. I shouldn’t have promised her that I’d keep things from you.”
“It’s okay, Helen, she’s your best mate. Of course you have to keep her secrets.” Nikki squeezed her lightly. “But it is getting a bit complicated having those two involved, isn’t it?”
“I suppose we were kidding ourselves thinking it would be smooth sailing.” Helen sighed softly and took Nikki’s hand, placing it on her breast over her nightshirt, not necessarily as something sexual, but almost as a form of comfort, hugging it to her. “I don’t remember Claire being this way when she met Heather. They fit together from the start.”
“No fireworks, in other words. Sounds deadly dull.”
“No, it…” Helen paused. “I was going to say it suited them, but maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s why they were together so long. Maybe they just didn’t know any better. They kept going on inertia.”
“Well, there are definitely fireworks with Trish and Claire. She had the stupidest grin on her face yesterday.” Nikki paused, not wanting to say it, but finding it almost impossible to hold it in. “She implied that Claire was …”
She trailed off and intrigued, Helen turned over more onto her back so that she could look up at Nikki. “Implied what? Claire was what?”
“Better than I was,” Nikki finished reluctantly.
“In bed, you mean? Impossible.”
“That’s what I thought,” Nikki said, indignant.
Helen smiled, and at the expression on Nikki’s face, started to laugh. Outraged, Nikki sat up in bed, stacking her pillows up against the headboard. Crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against them, she glared at Helen. “How could she be better? She’s a bloody solicitor.”
Helen, suddenly bemused, sobered and sat up as well, turning her body so that she could face Nikki. “You’re not really concerned about this are you?”
Nikki held her gaze a moment, and then let her face relax. “Not really.”
Outraged, Helen shoved at her. “Cheeky. You were just trying to wind me up.”
Nikki wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close. “Maybe a little.”
“Because you know you’re the best that ever was,” Helen told her as she settled against Nikki’s body, leaning against her chest. “Or ever will be in the History of Lesbian Kind.”
“Now who’s taking the piss?”
“You’re not really jealous of Claire, are you?” Helen’s tone, though light, wasn’t entirely facetious.
Nikki was sorry she had started this. “Not at all,” she said firmly. “I think it’s fantastic that Trisha’s found someone, and Claire is terrific. They’ll be great together.” She pressed her face into Helen’s hair, inhaling the fragrance of shampoo and her own, special warm scent. “But I do love Trish, and I want her to be as happy as I am. Can you understand that?”
“Of course I can,” Helen told her immediately. She turned her head and kissed Nikki’s chin, then her lips. “You have such a big heart, sweetheart.”
Nikki kissed her back and they spent a few moments enjoying that before resuming the conversation. “So Trish will probably be talking to me in the future and obviously, Claire is already talking to you. We’re going to be caught up in this whole thing whether we want to be or not.”
“I guess we should lay down some ground rules about it.”
“I just knew there’d be rules involved.” Nikki sighed.
Helen poked her in the side before she snuggled closer. “We have to maintain their confidence. Nothing they say to us can get back to them. It’d be wrong.”
“Of course it would,” Nikki agreed.
“That means you can’t tell me what Trisha says to you and I can’t tell you what Claire says to me. It’ll be too difficult to keep straight otherwise.”
“Okay.” Nikki shook her head. “Christ, this is harder than Larkhall, knowing what you can say and what you can’t.”
Helen brushed her cheek along Nikki’s collarbone. “I remember. You were so hard to convince that I could be trusted.”
“Well, you were a screw. I wasn’t going to grass anyone up.” She could feel her body tense instinctively, and with an effort, she relaxed, but Helen had noticed, drawing back to look at her in the bluish illumination of their nightlight.
“It’s still a sensitive subject for you.”
“Yeah, I suppose it is.” Nikki drew her fingers lightly along Helen’s forearm, feeling the fine hairs rise in her wake. “I don’t know why. It’s almost a year later.”
“It is coming up on the anniversary of your appeal, isn’t it?” Helen said thoughtfully. “Do you want to mark it?”
“What, with a bash or something?” Nikki thought about it, trying not to wince. “Honestly, Helen, I think I’d rather forget about the whole thing, put it behind me, once and for all.”
Helen’s face was so expressive that Nikki could follow her thought processes just by seeing how her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened marginally. Helen clearly didn’t agree with her, but was searching for a way to say it. Nikki sighed and dipped her head, looking up at Helen from beneath lowered lashes.
“Do you really like remembering it all?”
“It’s not about that, Nikki,” Helen said soberly. “It’s the fact that there’s a lot that still bothers you about that time, and if you try to bury it rather than deal with it, then it can have some serious repercussions. It impacts your actions whether you realize it or not.”
Nikki didn’t like the assessment, but her innate honesty made it impossible to disagree with her. There had been too many incidents in the past year that bore out Helen’s theory. “I suppose you’re right,” she admitted reluctantly. “The worst part is I never know what’s going to set me off until it does. Remember the row we had over redoing the upstairs loo?”
Helen made a small sound of distress at the reminder. “It was just a minor disagreement until I told you to sit down in the chair and listen. You went so completely white, I thought you were going to pass out. I didn’t even realize what I’d done until you screamed that I was never to tell you what to do ever again and stormed out. I was terrified you’d never come back.”
Nikki squirmed, embarrassed at the memory. “I had to. All my stuff was here.”
“The wounds that Larkhall left run deep,” Helen said quietly, ignoring Nikki’s pitiful attempt at humor. “We don’t know how deep until they’re uncovered. I found that out while I was in therapy with Paul. Remember how Trisha had to talk me down after that woman accosted me out back of Chix? That was Fenner’s doing. And that time you left the cinema and got sick on the pavement after seeing that character miscarry in the film? That was because of what happened to Carol. It lingers, Nikki. It stays with us long after we think it’s gone, and all we can do is try to deal with it when it surfaces.”
“Maybe, but I hate how that place still impacts on our lives.”
Helen uttered a laugh that wasn’t entirely devoid of humor. “Well, it’s not all grim, sweetheart. That time in my garden shed was bloody fantastic.”
Surprised, Nikki smiled, remembering how she and Helen had played out the fantasy of still being inmate and wing governor while having it off in the potting shed at Larkhall. It had been one of their more intense encounters and just the thought of it was enough to send a pleasant sliver of desire rippling through her.
“No, that wasn’t bad at all.” She casually rubbed her knuckles over Helen’s left nipple, feeling it grow firm under her touch through the thin material of her nightshirt. Her voice lowered, becoming more intimate. “You came so hard, you nearly broke my wrist.”
She heard Helen’s breath catch. “It was amazing, but it just goes to show how powerful those memories can be. And until this recent bombing at Larkhall, we haven’t really been able to talk about them.”
Nikki cupped her breast, squeezing gently. “Do we really have to talk about them right now?” she asked plaintively.
Helen hesitated, and then made a sound of amusement. “You and your hormones.”
Nikki nuzzled her ear. “Like your hormones don’t put mine to shame.”
She continued to caress Helen’s breast through her shirt, enjoying how it caused her to whimper slightly as they kissed deeply. That sound never failed to fully arouse Nikki, so similar to the sound Helen had made in her cell the very first time they kissed. Tangling her hands in Nikki’s hair, Helen tugged on it a little as she bore her down onto the sheets.
“Are you sure?”
Nikki smiled. Helen always asked, even though it was hardly the first time they’d made love while she was ‘indisposed’ as she termed it. And Nikki always had to assure her that she had absolutely no problem touching her, even if it meant a little transfer of bodily fluid in the process.
“I’m positive, darling.” She always knew what time of the month it was for Helen. It was the only time she wore clothing to bed. And the only time she wore big, white granny knickers rather than the silk and lace panties she usually favored. “Besides, you know how much it helps with your cramping.”
“Oh, so it’s a medicinal remedy.”
“Of course,” Nikki muttered as she put her hand between her thighs and eased them apart. “Now open wide and say ‘ah’.”
Helen groaned loudly, and it wasn’t one of enjoyment, but she readily spread her legs at Nikki’s urging. Laughing, Nikki slipped her fingers under the elastic of Helen’s knickers, raking through the matted thatch of hair. As she lightly touched her, Helen quivered and made that wonderful whimper of surrender again. Her clit was swollen but dry, all moisture being intercepted before it escaped. That wouldn’t last long once her arousal increased, Nikki knew, which was why Helen also wore a liner, but in the meantime, a little outside assistance was required. Lifting her hand, she licked her fingertips lavishly, and then slipped back into Helen’s panties, rubbing over her in small, concentrated circles. Helen groaned again, and this time it was one of pure and utter gratification.
Nikki had yet to convince Helen to let her pleasure her orally at this time, even though one bodily fluid wasn’t significantly different from the other in her mind, all originating from the same place after all. Nikki supposed it was that streak of small village Puritanism in Helen’s nature, the one that surfaced at such odd times, but was rather charming when it wasn’t completely pissing her off.
“Nikki.” Helen whispered her name and reached for her.
Nikki moaned as she felt Helen’s hand between her legs, fondling her as skillfully as Nikki touched her. Surrendering to the pleasure, even as she tried to maintain her concentration on what she was doing, Nikki found all thoughts of the past and prison slipping from her mind, which was exactly what she’d intended in the first place.
Afterward, she lay in drowsy satisfaction, spooned around the warm curve of Helen’s body, listening to her soft respiration, and feeling a complete and utter contentment. Brushing a strand of chestnut hair away from Helen’s face, she tucked it gently around her ear and put her lips next to it.
“I love you, Helen,” she whispered.
Helen made a small sound of pleasure and reached back to caress her hip, pulling her groin closer to her cotton covered buttocks. “Love you, too, sweetheart.”
Nikki kissed her cheek. “That’s for the morning, in case you’re not awake when I get up.”
“I probably won’t be.” Helen hesitated and Nikki knew there was still something on her mind. She hoped it didn’t have to do with Larkhall. “Nikki, have you thought about hiring more people for the café?”
Relieved, Nikki nuzzled into her neck. “Already looking into it, darling. If it works out the way I want, I’ll be able to start taking off Sundays and Mondays. You and I will be able to do some things on the weekends now.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Helen said. You’re so good to me.”
“Hey, it was for me, too.
I want us to be
able to
get away now and again. I can’t wait to make love to you on holiday.”
“Even if you are wearing your granny knickers.”
Despite all the cat hair about.
Trisha shut the door quietly behind her and stood there a moment, eyeing the brindled tabby that glared back malevolently. Despite being given a key to facilitate her coming and going with her late hours at the club, Trisha didn’t live here and if it was up to Hamilton, she never would. As she took a step toward the bedroom, he immediately left his position on the sofa, jumping to the floor with a substantial thud. He was not the most svelte of felines.
“Mangy furball,” Trisha said between clenched teeth.
Slipping out of her jacket, Trisha held it in front of her as she heard the low, rumbling growl begin in the back of his throat. Honestly, it was just insane trying to get to Claire’s bedroom on these nights she came over late. Whenever Claire was present, the cat pointedly ignored Trisha. But the second Claire left the room and wasn’t there to witness his perfidy, he would actually stalk Trisha, trying to get close enough to sink either his claws or his teeth into whatever body part happened to be available.
Keeping her jacket in front of her as if she were a matador attempting to divert the rush of a bull, Trisha shuffled through the neat and tidy living room. She didn’t dare turn her back on him as he crouched in the middle of the floor, ears flattened, his tail whipping back and forth like a live wire. Making a wide circle, she managed to get to the door leading to the bedroom. Groping behind her, never taking her eyes off Hamilton, she finally found the doorknob and twisted it open. Just as she did, Hamilton made his move, bounding toward her. Flinging her jacket over him, she threw open the door, dashed into the bedroom and shut it firmly behind her, doing her best not to slam it.
On the other side of the barricade, she could hear Hamilton’s claws at work, shredding her jacket with a thorough and wicked pleasure amid a chorus of happy yowls. It would be all over the living room by morning, and Claire would admonish Trisha for leaving it where he could get at it.
After losing a beautiful leather coat during her first stay over, and a very stylish, if less expensive, blazer the next, Trisha had taken to wearing extremely cheap jackets she picked up at various charity shops every week. She was hoping that eventually she’d find one impregnated with rat poison or something that would fix Hamilton good and proper.
Taking a deep breath, she turned and looked at the low bed and the slumbering form tucked up in the middle of it. Claire looked so small and slight, but Trisha knew that appearances could be deceiving when it came to the solicitor. There was pure steel in that lovely spine and solid titanium in her heart when it came to the practical side of things. Even so, Trisha still felt ridiculously protective as she looked at her. Quickly, she shucked her clothes and very carefully eased between the sheets, snuggling in behind her.
Claire stirred and murmured something that Trisha couldn’t quite make out. “Trisha?”“What time is it?”
“Half four,” Trisha said with a bit of regret. She could tell Claire was tired. “Go back to sleep.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Claire rolled over and cuddled into her body. “How was your night?”
“Typical Saturday,” Trisha told her as she smoothed her hands over the t-shirt and boxers Claire was in the habit of wearing to bed. “Lots of sharks on the pull.”
“All trying to pull you, no doubt.”
Trisha nuzzled her lightly. “Yeah, but I told them my woman would sue their arses off if they so much as laid a hand on me.”
“By all means, use the law as a stick to beat off your admirers.”
“You have a better idea?”
“Mmm, next Saturday night, I’ll come over and make my presence felt.”
Trisha slipped her hand under Claire’s shirt, stroking her soft skin. “How about making it felt now?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Claire kissed her ardently, and rolled her over.
Once past a certain, initial hesitation, Claire had turned out to be a very aggressive and passionate lover, one that Trisha, always ready to try any and everything, found deeply satisfying. On some level, Claire was more compatible to her needs than Nikki had been. Not that she and Nikki hadn’t had a wonderful sex life during their time together, they had, but Nikki was surprisingly gentle in the bedroom, preferring to make love rather than be thoroughly fucked from one end of the bed to the other. Claire demanded the latter, and Trisha was more than eager to provide it, because it was frequently what she wanted as well. It was possible they would slow down in the future, but for now, their encounters were extremely energetic and even athletic at times.
Afterwards, panting hard for breath and wondering if she’d dislocated one of her fingers during that last move, Trisha looked up into Claire’s sweaty, disheveled features and smiled. “Finished?”
“Not quite,” Claire grunted and did something rather interesting with her internal muscles that made her come yet again, slender body shuddering in complete abandon before collapsing helplessly onto Trisha.
Withdrawing carefully, as much to protect her abused digits as Claire’s delicate tissue, Trisha shook out her hand, wincing slightly. Not dislocated, she decided, but definitely overstressed.
Claire lolled happily on Trisha, kissing her neck and chin, her weight soft and somewhat comforting. “God, I love what you do to me.”
“I love doing it,” Trisha said, hugging her close. “And what you do to me is beyond reason.”
“Still, I wish my fingers were longer,” Claire said fretfully. “Sometimes I get the feeling you would like me to go a bit deeper.”
Trisha kissed her. “Don’t be silly. You’re fantastic.” She paused, thinking about it. “Besides, if we want to go that route, we can always get a strapon.”
Claire’s head popped up, her expression intrigued. “A strapon? You mean one of those harnesses with the fake co---um, one of those sexual aids?”
“Sure.” Trisha regarded her closely. “Don’t tell me you’ve never tried one?”
Claire looked a bit embarrassed. “I always wanted to, but…” She trailed off.
Heather didn’t want to, Trisha finished silently for her. Apparently, Heather didn’t want to try a lot of things, according to the various hints she had picked up over the course of their many conversations. It was no surprise that Claire was so adventurous now. She had a lot of lost time to make up for.
“Well, next time I’m near a shop, I’ll pick one up for us.”
“A sex shop?”
Trisha swallowed back a laugh, suspecting it would be unappreciated. Claire continued to be this wonderful mixture of innocence and blatant horniness, anxious to explore all new experiences. “Yeah, there’s one just around the corner from the club.”
“I want to go with you. Can we do it today? Will it be open?”
Trisha felt a bit bemused by her eagerness. “Can I have a nap first?”
Claire lowered her eyes sheepishly. “Of course you can. I forgot you haven’t been to sleep yet.” She kissed Trisha warmly, mouth lingering on her lips. “I’m sorry, Trish, I just want you in every way possible. I’m a bit too keen, I suppose.”
“Not at all,” Trisha assured her. “I love trying new things with you, Claire. I never had anyone who…” Now it was her turn to trail off uncertainly.
Claire’s sharp gaze focused on her. “Never had anyone who…what?”
Trisha sighed. She hadn’t meant to bring it up. “It’s just that in my past relationships, I’ve always been the one who’s been a bit too keen.”
“Even with Nikki?”
Trisha winced. “You can’t tell Helen about this! Swear to me!”
“Of course not, darling. Besides, Helen doesn’t want to hear about you as a lover. I think it makes her feel a bit inadequate or something.”
Trisha sincerely doubted that, but it was nice of Claire to try to make her think so. “Nikki’s tried practically everything, of course, because she was a real player in the early days, but really, when it comes right down to it, she’s the soppy sort in bed. She even cries sometimes.”
“I know, Helen told me.”
“Jesus, do you two share everything?”
“Don’t you and Nikki?”
“Not the stuff in the bedroom. That’s always been off limits with us…maybe because of our past.”
“Well, all those conversations between Helen and me took place before you and I became involved,” Claire told her with a bit of a sigh. She rubbed Trisha’s stomach, roaming in circles that expanded with every pass. Eventually, she’d be touching on extremely sensitive areas, Trisha determined with a mix of apprehension and anticipation. “Once we got together, Helen decided I wasn’t to find out anymore about your ex. As if there was anything left to tell.”
“Is that one of your rules? I know how much you two love making them up out of thin air. I think that’s why you get on so well.”
Claire raked her fingers through the very dark triangle that gave lie to the hue of Trisha’s golden mane. Squirming in pleasure, Trisha wondered if this brief pause to talk had restored enough energy for another round. Certainly, the desire that raced through her let her know the spirit was willing regardless of how the flesh was actually doing.
“We’ve always been friends, ever since university,” Claire murmured as she dipped lower, stroking lavishly through Trisha’s wetness. “There’ve been periods when we’ve drifted apart a bit, but we always end up seeking each other out when times get rough. Does that bother you?”
Trisha found it hard to breathe as the cloying sensation radiated through her groin, making her toes curl. “Not at all,” she managed. Claire had a wonderful ability with her fingertips that made her touch feel new each and every time. “Everyone needs a best mate.”
“Is Nikki yours?”
“She was for a long time. That’s what made it so hard when she was banged up. I didn’t just lose my partner, I lost my friend and I really didn’t have anyone to talk to…not until you and I started working together.”
Trisha reached down and grabbed Claire’s wrist, ceasing the caresses for the time being because she really wanted to explain this properly and she couldn’t do that while Claire was making her so crazy. “Claire, honestly, you’re my best friend. Until you came along, I was scared I’d forgotten how to care about someone, not just physically, but emotionally, too.”
“I thought Joan took care of the physical stuff,” Claire said dryly, referring to Trisha’s ill-advised affair with a doctor while Nikki had been incarcerated. It had finished a relationship that was already failing due to separation and loneliness. She almost, but not quite, managed to conceal the hint of jealousy in her tone, one that warmed Trisha through and through.
Wrapping her arms around her, she kissed Claire very gently. “All Joan did was remind me how empty sex is without the caring that should go with it. You show me every time we’re together how wonderful it is to have both.”
Claire
clung to her.
“I do care
about you, Trisha. So much.”
But she didn’t use the other word
and Trisha was too afraid to be the one to use it first. So, she eased
her back
onto the mattress and made love to Claire as slowly and tenderly as
possible,
hoping she could show her even if she couldn’t quite manage to say it.
She glanced at the time. With the holiday season over, she intended to increase her time working on her outreach programs, but she’d been around long enough to know it had to be done gradually. Trying to make changes in the prison service required the patience of Job, and the endurance of a distance runner. In the meantime, she would continue to play her part as the dutiful Unit coordinator three days a week and work on what she considered to be her real job the rest of the time.
And like everything in the prison service, it required a great deal of politicking to even get the initial outreach program off the ground. Area Management wanted any new rehabilitation procedures presented to them first, allowing them to go over them before they authorized any attempt by Helen to work with one of their lifers. But it would be more logical for her to choose a member of the prison population first, and then structure a program around her specific needs. Furthermore, since Helen had only two days a week to work on her caseload, she wanted to be sure she chose exactly the right candidate in the beginning. She needed a success story right out of the blocks if she wanted to tackle the more difficult cases later on.
She wanted someone who was intelligent and passionate and would respond to both education and encouragement…someone who would not be deterred by the very real obstacles of prison bars and unfeeling screws and the possibility of failure. Someone who deserved to be helped because the justice system had let her down and her only hope was someone on the outside who could take on that system and make it work the right way for a change.
In short, Helen Stewart needed another Nikki Wade.
Unfortunately, the Nikki Wades of this world were rare indeed. Helen longingly eyed the stack of files sitting on the table by the door of her office. After several requests that were ignored for a variety of reasons by the prison’s personnel office, she had finally driven over to HMP Holloway in Islington to pick them up personally. It had taken most of the morning and she longed to go through them, but she had a report due on Della’s desk by the end of the day. Stifling a sigh, she resumed her attention to the computer screen and tried to come up with a new way of saying what should be self evident to all involved.
A tap at her door several minutes later made her look up. “Come in.”
The other program coordinator, Dominic McAllister, poked his head in. A solidly built young man with boyish features and a ready smile, he and Helen had known each other since their early days at Larkhall. “Hey, Helen, got a minute?”
“Hiya, Dom. Of course I have.” She pushed her chair back from the computer with relief at the excuse for a break as she motioned him to the chair opposite her on the other side of the desk. “What’s up?”
“I got chatting to some bloke in the pub last night,” he said as he settled into his seat. “I think what he told me might be of some interest to you.”
Helen lifted her brow, wondering what Dominic was doing in a pub on a Tuesday night, but deciding it was better if she didn’t know. “And why would gossip you’ve picked up from some random bloke in a pub interest me?”
“Cause the bloke in question is a PO at Larkhall, or more specifically, on G-wing. His name’s Colin Hedges,” Dominic said, smiling slightly when Helen’s head lifted. “We’d both had a bit to drink and ended up comparing notes about being in the job.”
“What’s going on at Larkhall?”
Helen leaned forward, trying not to seem too eager. Because of her current romantic relationship with Nikki, Della had made it clear that, in the beginning at least, Helen was to limit her outreach programs to Holloway. She wanted her to stay well clear of Larkhall and any potential conflict of interest charge being leveled at her by those in Area Management. This, of course, made any news about her old prison even more intriguing.
“Shell Dockley’s back on G-Wing.”
“No.”
Helen was astonished. First, that she was just now hearing about Dockley’s apprehension, and secondly, that the prison service had actually placed her back on the same wing from which she’d escaped a year earlier. Of course, no one could accuse those bureaucrats in Area Management of being particularly intelligent. There had probably been an opening on G-wing and rather than consider Shell’s history, they had bunged her back without a second thought.
Of course, Helen thought a bit uneasily, there was precedent for such a decision and that could be traced back directly to her. After Shell had stabbed Fenner, it was decided to transfer her to a secure psychiatric facility called Ashmore. Helen, using her influence from running the Lifer’s Unit, vetoed the decision, feeling that it was unfair to Shell. Perhaps Area Management decided that if a near deadly assault on a prison officer didn’t require a transfer to a different facility, then a little something like an escape shouldn’t do the trick, either.
Helen was convinced that Shell’s continued presence unsettled Fenner so much that he’d had a hand in planning her escape. Unfortunately, Helen had lacked the crucial evidence to prove it. As she had already learnt to her cost, no one could slither out of a tight spot as well as Jim-bloody-Fenner.
“She was found in Amsterdam, working as a stripper in a lap-dancing club. Colin, Fenner and a couple of others came across her during a lad’s weekend out after the fire.”
“Because the bombing was just so damaging to their delicate psyches,” Helen said acidly. “And that was their way of coping.”
Dominic grinned in appreciation of the sarcasm, but he wasn’t finished. “Shell worked the club as dominatrix ‘Naughty Nikki’. Apparently, she used the name Nikki Wade on her forged passport.” He grinned, and added hopefully; “Can I be there when you tell Nikki about that?”
Helen stared at him in abject horror. “Jesus Christ, Dominic!”
“I know. I nearly fell over when Colin told me. I didn’t let on I knew anyone involved, of course. Just that I’d worked in Larkhall in the past but I let him assume it was on another wing.” He continued on, telling Helen how the men had recognized Shell, chased her through the club before finally catching up to her in the back alley. When he was finished, Helen dropped her face to her hands and groaned aloud.
“Nikki’s going to go ballistic. Why was Shell in the Netherlands?”
“Well, I understand she had a sugar daddy there, some British diplomat named Jeremy Pugh.” Dominic sobered, clearly aware that what he was about to say was no laughing matter. “He’s apparently the father of her child, Helen. Shell’s pregnant. She’s due any day now. That’s why she couldn’t get away when she did a runner from the club.”
“God.” Another woman going to give birth in prison only to see the child taken away and either placed with a family member or into the system, another ward of the state. Not that Shell would have been considered mother-of-the-year had she remained outside, but just the thought of it made Helen ill. “It never ends, does it, Dom?”
“No, but that’s why we keep trying to come up with programs that’ll make it better.”
Helen didn’t bother to tell him how futile that felt at times. After all, they were making a difference, whether it was readily apparent or not.
“Listen, Helen, can I change the subject a moment?”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Why did you tell Joan that Nikki had been in Larkhall?”
“I didn’t.” Helen felt her blood pressure rise as she thought about the doctor who acted as a consultant to the Unit one day a week. “She must have come across her name somewhere in the files.”
“Nikki’s in the files?”
“She was a student with the Open University. The program’s administered through the Unit.”
“But what would Joan be doing reading those?” Dominic frowned. “Do you suppose she recognized her at the party? Nikki was on television after her appeal was granted.”
“Maybe.” Helen exhaled slowly. “What difference does it make how she found out? I wasn’t really trying to keep it a secret. You know, Della knows, Paul knows. The only one who might not know at this point is Sarah.”
Dominic rolled his eyes. “Sarah wouldn’t care. She thinks Nikki is gorgeous.”
Startled, Helen smiled, feeling absurdly proud for some reason. “God, she even pulls the straight ones, doesn’t she?” Dominic looked a little less enamored of Nikki’s apparent irresistibility to women and, with an effort Helen swallowed her grin. “Why are you so concerned about this, Dom?”
“Because last week when Joan was in, she kept asking me questions about it in a real sly way,” he said. “You know, the way Fenner used to do when he was fishing for something to cause somebody grief.”
“And still does, no doubt. Well, Joan’s no Fenner, Dominic. She can’t really cause me any harm here.”
“No, but she still wants to. She’s been stroppy ever since you started here. Part of that’s jealousy, I think, because you’re Della’s favorite now…” Dominic trailed off, lifting his brows in an expression that clearly expected Helen to fill in the blanks.
Helen hadn’t considered that view of the situation. She’d decided that Joan caused trouble just for the sake of it. Simple jealousy simply hadn’t crossed her mind, even though she knew how very destructive an emotion it could be. “I’m Della’s favorite? Really?”
“Oh, come on, Helen, don’t play the innocent with me.” Dominic no longer regarded Helen with the same unfettered admiration as he had when she had been his superior. Now he took the piss with her the same way he would any of his other mates. “Everyone knows you’re her blue-eyed girl. I mean, do you really think she’d let anyone else talk her into the idea of personalized outreach programs?”
Now Helen was a bit embarrassed. “I’m sure that’s just a case of her realizing that I work better when I’m allowed to be a bit more ‘hands on’.”
Dominic grinned. “Like you had with Nikki?” he said slyly. “God, Helen, how many women can you handle at one time.”
“Get out of my office, Dominic.”
Laughing, he lifted himself out of the chair and disappeared out her door. Shaking her head, Helen returned to her report, finding it even more difficult to concentrate on it now than she had before with the news from Larkhall spinning in her head. It took all her vaunted discipline to buckle down and come up with enough official sounding bureaucratic speak to fill the required amount of pages.
She left the office at five, arms full of her outreach folders, briefcase tucked under her left elbow. Juggling the stack all the way to the car, she deposited them on the back seat and slipped behind the wheel, letting out her breath in relief that she’d made it without dropping anything. From the corner of her eye, she saw Dominic’s car pull out of the car park and thought about the forty-five minute commute he faced to reach the house in South London where she used to live. She was only ten minutes away from her new flat, or rather, eight and a half minutes if she hit all the lights just right, which she happened to do on this particular night.
Parking her Peugeot between Nikki’s Porsche and Trisha’s BMW, she garnered a double take from a couple of women heading for the club for the Two-For-One night. Ignoring them and the implied insult to her beloved car, she gathered up her folders and lugged them down the pavement toward the café. At the steel door off to the side, she propped her load against the wall and dug her entry card out of her pocket. Sticking it in the slot, the door clicked open and she used her foot to wedge it wider. Utilizing a combination of moves that would have put a ballerina to shame, she grabbed her folders and briefcase, removed her card with her teeth, and lunged through the door before it swung shut.
Trudging
up two
flights of stairs,
she darkly considered the disadvantages of having a flat located on the
third
floor. But as she entered the foyer, she discovered lit candles on the
dining
table, the smell of something delicious cooking in the oven, and Nikki
wearing
that skintight black t-shirt that Helen always found such an incredible
turn
on.
And decided, just as she did every
evening, that she had made the right decision moving into the posh new
flat
after all.
“In Spain, too, apparently. That’s where she and Denny first headed.”
“Well, at least she’s back in custody.” Nikki shook her head. “And they put her back on G-Wing. How long do you suppose it’ll be before she and Fenner are at it again?”
Helen looked as if she wanted to say something, but didn’t. Instead, she took another bite of her rice pilaf, chewing stoically. Nikki sighed and laced her fingers together, resting her chin on them as she regarded Helen soberly. “What?”
Helen shook her head. “Nothing.” When Nikki maintained her intent gaze, she sighed. “It’s just that I think you’re probably right. Even after everything that’s gone on between them, they’ll cook up some scheme and some other wee sod will end up suffering for it.”
“Well, darling, there’s not much you can do about it.” Nikki tried to say it as kindly as possible, knowing even as she did how much it would sting. She reached across and took Helen’s hand, squeezing lightly. “Help the ones you can. Isn’t that why you brought all those files home?”
Diverted nicely, Helen immediately brightened, glancing over at the brown folders stacked neatly on the coffee table in the living room. “Those are all the lifers currently serving time in Holloway. I’m sure to find at least one I can help.”
Nikki considered pointing out that a lot of the lifers in prison actually deserved to be there. The amount of tough nuts she’d come across during her years behind bars far outnumbered those few who’d ended up on the wrong end of circumstances as she had. She nursed the uncomfortable feeling that Helen was about to embark on something that would end up breaking her heart. For all her adherence to rules and regulations, Helen cared deeply about her charges, and when things ended badly, as they sometimes did, she was completely devastated. Nikki hadn’t seen her immediately after Zandra’s death, but Helen had told her she’d been so grief-stricken, she couldn’t even go to the memorial service. Certainly, Nikki had been witness to how upset she was after Shaz’s death. She wondered what would have happened to Helen if her appeal hadn’t gone through, and a sudden wave of nausea went through her.
“Nikki?”
Nikki blinked, realizing that Helen was staring at her oddly. “What?”
Helen frowned. “You had the oddest expression just now. As if you were about to be sick.”
Embarrassed, Nikki dipped her head, staring at her plate. “I just thought about what things would be like if my appeal hadn’t gone through. I’d be sitting in my cell right now.” She laughed. It sounded horribly forced. “You’d be off with Waugh somewhere, having dinner and thinking about your next charity case no doubt.”
Helen didn’t hesitate. She was off her chair and over onto Nikki’s lap, grabbing her by the front of her shirt and shaking her. “I’d never have given up on you,” she said through clenched teeth and Nikki knew she’d really pissed her off. “I’d have kept fighting until you were free or died trying. Damn it Nikki, I thought we were finished with this.”
Nikki took her by the arms and held her, keeping her from sliding off her lap. “We are,” she said meekly. “I’m sorry, Helen.” She was even more sorry when she saw the tears suddenly appear in the greenish eyes. Wrapping her arms around her, she hugged her tightly. “Honestly, Helen, I know you believed in me. I…it’s just sometimes I get flashbacks to what it was like back then. You were my hope, and when I thought I lost that…”
Helen bent her head. “I know I handled the whole thing badly. I hurt you so much, and I hurt Thomas and left so much unsaid….”
Nikki was thoroughly disgusted that she had opened this particular can of worms, especially since Helen was right. They had settled it months ago. It was just a habit to haul out the bad Helen memories every so often so she could poke and prod at them. Maybe it was even her way of avoiding the rest of it, the memories that really didn’t have anything to do with Helen and everything to do with what being in prison had done to her. The memories that preceded Helen’s arrival at Larkhall, when she’d been without hope and well on her way to becoming just another tough nut, difficult for difficult’s sake, just as Fenner had accused her.
“You saved me, Helen,” she told her in a shaky voice. “You saved me from all of it. Not just prison, but what it would have turned me into. Don’t ever doubt that. And for God’s sakes, please don’t ever let me make you doubt what you can do.”
Helen didn’t respond and Nikki buried her face in the soft chestnut hair. “I love you so much, Helen. And I’m so proud of you.” She kissed her ear. “Would you like me to help you with the files? Use my considerable experience with tough nuts to help you pick out a likely candidate?”
“Would you?” Helen’s response was muffled in the crook of Nikki’s neck, letting her know she was forgiven.
“After dinner, we’ll sit down and go through them together.”
Helen kissed her and reluctantly slid off her lap. Nikki mentally patted herself on the back for coming up with a way to smooth things over, and then kicked herself just as soundly for causing the mess in the first place. One of these days, she’d find a way to stop her gob from running away with her. Hopefully, before it was time for her to start drawing a pension.
After finishing dinner and washing up the dishes, the couple made themselves comfortable on the sofa. Nikki stretched out against some cushions and the arm of the couch as Helen positioned herself between her knees, leaning back against her body. While Helen held the folder open, Nikki read over her shoulder.
“You might want to be careful of a history of hardcore drug use,” Nikki offered. “That may be more than you want to tackle on your first case.”
“I know.” Helen glanced back at her. “You never used drugs in Larkhall, did you, sweetheart?”
“Not the heavy stuff. I didn’t like the power it gave the dealers. Any time I indulged, it was my own, not brought in by someone else.”
“What?” Shocked, Helen sat up and turned to look at her. “Your own? How?”
Nikki smiled. “Well, there were these tomato plants out by the potting shed that weren’t exactly tomato plants. You know, for being such a terror on drugs, you walked past them plenty of times and never noticed.” Helen just stared at her and Nikki squirmed. “Come on, Helen, it was just a bit of recreational use, and hell, when Zandra got sick, it was all that was available for her.” Nikki dipped her head, pinning her with a look. “What about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you’d been banged up, how would you have handled it? Walked with God on your side, like Crystal?”
“Just the opposite, Nikki. I’m afraid...” Helen swallowed hard and suddenly Nikki realized she’d touched something painful again, but this time, she wasn’t sure what it could be.
Gently, she rubbed her shoulders. “What?”
“You may have noticed that sometimes when I drink, I drink too much.” Helen’s voice wasn’t quite trembling, but it wasn’t entirely steady either.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Nikki said, disturbed at the implication.
“No, I do. I’m aware of it, though, and maybe that’s why I’m not over the edge into actually having a problem with it. But sometimes when things aren’t going right, it gets a bit dicey.” Helen leaned back into her body, seeming to need the intimacy and Nikki immediately put her arms around her, hugging her tightly. “The point is, if I ever found myself in the nick, I know I’d self medicate myself into oblivion. There’s no question about it.”
“Jesus, Helen.”
“I know. Scary, isn’t it? It’s not the first time I’ve ever thought about it. Every time I dealt with it at Larkhall, I’d think that there but for the grace of God. And then I’d see inmates like you, who refused to give in, who stayed strong no matter what, and I wanted so much to clean it up for you so that you wouldn’t have to go through the strip searches and the restrictions.”
Nikki bit her lip so hard she could taste blood because, of course, she had gone through just that after one of Helen’s ill-advised early attempts to clean up the drug problem. Helen glanced back, saw the expression on her face, and winced. “Yes, well, I reckon I still owe you one for coming up with that idea, don’t I?”
It was such a silly thing to say that Nikki had to laugh. And after a few seconds, Helen laughed as well. “I’ll put it on your tab,” Nikki told her, kissing her ear. “Let’s get back to your lifers. There has to be some unlucky sod in Holloway who needs to have you in their corner.”
After going through the stack of files and weeding out those that were unsuitable for a variety of reasons, they were left with a much smaller pile, no more than ten at the most. Helen looked so depressed when she looked at them that Nikki put her hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “One at a time, Helen,” she advised quietly. “You can’t save the whole world at once.”
“I can still want to.”
“Well, there’s no law against wanting it all.” Nikki shook her gently for emphases. “I suspect I already taught you that one.”
“You did.” Helen sighed, then smiled and looked at her fondly. “Ready for bed? You need to be up early.”
“So do you.” Nikki hooked her arm around her waist as they strolled toward the bedroom. “Hey, I had my own list to weed through today. Monica dropped by a list of possibles for the café. With any luck, once I’ve found someone to fit the bill, I’ll be able to start taking Sundays off.”
“Brilliant.” Helen paused in the hall by the bedroom door, turning to kiss her. “That’s the best news I’ve heard today.”
“So you have to promise me that you won’t be putting in any overtime at the weekend.” Nikki looked down at her with a stern expression.
Helen made a bit of a face. “What, you think I’d neglect you for this?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
Helen opened her mouth to respond, thought about it, and dipped her head sheepishly. “Maybe. You know me too well, Nikki. I promise. No matter what else happens, Sundays will always be for you and me.”
“I’ll probably need that in writing,” Nikki said.
Helen poked her admonishingly in the side and headed for the ensuite. Nikki laughed and followed her, though she took a bit longer to complete her ablutions, taking a moment to organize the wash baskets for the next day’s laundry. By the time she returned to the bedroom, Helen was already waiting for her, leaning back against the pillows, quilt draped around her hips, leaving much of her torso exposed. For a long moment, Nikki just stopped in the doorway and stared at her. Helen looked so vulnerable and yet wildly sensual at the same time. Nikki was incredibly grateful that she was the one granted the privilege of seeing her in such a state.
Helen looked at her as she always did with those wide green eyes and smiled, a flash of tongue appearing behind her teeth. “”What’re you waiting for?” she rumbled in that delightful Scottish accent that turned it into “Wot y’waitin’ for?”
Feeling
her nipples
harden and the
rush of moisture between her legs, Nikki untied her robe and tossed it
over a
nearby chair. Walking naked and ready to the bed, she slipped between
the
sheets and onto the warm, rounded curves that welcomed her eagerly.
More than
willing to end this day
on a properly hopeful note.
A late Saturday night left Trisha and Claire just tipsy enough not to try to drive to either Claire’s flat or to the suburban home Trisha owned. After closing Chix, and bidding the staff farewell, they promptly wrecked the office while shagging on the desk, then on the chair and then up against the wall for a bit. Afterward, they went upstairs to the flat where they wedged themselves into the tiny shower and snogged happily under the hot water. Space constraints prevented them from actually doing anything more, but they were squeaky clean by the end of it.
Famished in the aftermath, but with nothing of note available in the flat or downstairs in the club, they checked the time and decided to stop by Libertà for breakfast. They weren’t the only ones to make the same choice, but they were the only ones that caused the owner to groan and cover her eyes when she spotted them strolling through the door.
“I thought you had Sundays off now,” Trisha said as she and Claire settled at the table in the corner.
“Still training.” Nikki stood back as a young woman with reddish hair and freckles nervously approached to take their order. She wore a nametag identifying her as ‘Diane’ and looked absolutely scared to death, fingers shaking as she put pen to order pad. Claire wondered what was making her most nervous, that it was her early days on the job or Nikki lingering nearby, keeping an eye on her.
After Diana took their order after many missteps and crossed signals, and walked away, Nikki sighed. “She’ll be okay once she’s conquered her nerves. I hope so anyway. I would like to take a Sunday off at some stage this year.”
“I’m sure the fact you’re hovering around her like a mother hen isn’t helping, ‘Nik,” Trisha said as she leaned back in her chair. Under the table, Clair could feel Trisha’s foot creeping up her leg. She must have slipped off her shoe because when it abruptly wedged itself between Claire’s thighs, Trisha’s toes were easily able to tickle her crotch through her pants. It took all Claire’s courtroom control not to jump out of her seat. “Besides, remember how bad I was when I started at Reflections? I knocked a full pint off the bar and drenched my first customer.”
Nikki grinned wryly. “I remember.” She paused. “I’d have fired you right there if I’d been in charge.”
“Then aren’t we both lucky you weren’t in charge?” Trisha responded quickly, making a face at her as the pair continued on in their reminiscing over their employment at the bar where they’d first met and fell in love.
Claire perspired quietly and wondered how Trisha could be manipulating her so nonchalantly without Nikki twigging to what was going on right under her nose. Trying to ignore the maddening sensation, Claire looked around the café, checking out their fellow diners. In addition to the club goers, there were a couple of uniformed police officers sitting in the far corner, enjoying tea and a plateful of pastries. A bit surprised to see them, Claire wondered if they made Nikki or her staff nervous at all, considering they were all ex-cons.
She watched as Kate, the exotic, dark-skinned woman with a beauty that intimidated rather than attracted, refilled the female officer’s cup and laughed in an oddly flirtatious manner at something she said. Cynically, Claire wondered if Kate had an ulterior motive for playing up to the officer’s obvious interest. She could be trying to protect her colleagues, she supposed but from what she knew about Kate’s background, Claire doubted it. Kate was probably just being perverse, either that, or she planned to exploit the officer’s quite obvious attraction to her as part of a future scam. Then even more cynically, Claire found herself wondering if the policewoman was flirting with Kate because she was fit, because she was an ex-con, or because, in the wake of 9/11, she was clearly of Middle Eastern extraction.
She jumped suddenly as Trisha’s big toe centered on her clit and pressed insistently. Gulping a little, she looked across the table where Trisha returned the look with a lazy half-smile and a lowering of her right eyelid in an almost wink. Shifting deliberately away from the amazingly agile contact, Claire clamped her thighs together, refusing any further advances. Trisha made a show of pouting and then smiled as Diane delivered their orange juice, barely managing not to spill it.
“You keep that up, and I’ll take my breakfast elsewhere,” Claire said in a low voice once Nikki and Diane had left.
Trisha was unimpressed. “You know you love it.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “And you know I could make you come right here if I wanted.”
Claire trembled a little as she entertained the thought. Even after their morning romp, she still wanted her with an ache that permeated every nerve. She had never imagined being as lascivious…so incredibly and unreser