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unfinished business; Bad Girls / Judge John Deed trilogy
Topic Started: Jun 22 2008, 10:39 AM (19,819 Views)
richard
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That feedback is really lovely and very generous of you, HR. Thanks so much.

I thought I'd post this next scene which I could picture as I wrote it. I hope the edginess of the encounter with the police comes over. Enjoy.


.....................................................................................................................

Scene Seven

The distant sounds of wailing sirens started to percolate through the crowd’s senses, gradually becoming louder. Suddenly, the shapes of two police cars and an ambulance came into view, as they shot up the street with blue revolving lights flashing and screeched to a halt. Doors were quickly flung open and the paramedics shot over to the fallen man. The paramedics immediately slid the man onto a stretcher in an ominously unhurried fashion. If there were signs of hope, they would have certainly whipped out their oxygen masks and defibrillating paddles and screeched off down the street. As it was, one of them had a quick word with the nearby policeman who nodded his head. The ambulance set off in an ominously leisurely fashion to its destination.

The policemen made their way over to those who were immediately on the scene. They questioned each of the passers by in their brisk businesslike fashion while Helen and Nikki kept to the fringes. Nikki shivered emotionally inside, as the sounds brought back frightening memories and associations. Helen knew straightaway what was on her mind. Helen’s thin dress was not much defence against the cold night air and she physically shivered with the cold.
“Don’t worry, darling. We’ve done nothing wrong,” Helen whispered and planted a delicate kiss on Nikki’s cheek. Nikki smiled and stroked Helen’s hair affectionately, knowing that they may not have been in the most tolerant environment that there ever was.

“You need to ask those two women what was going on. After all they were chasing after that murdering woman,” concluded the middle aged woman who stood nearby, her hair cut in a well disciplined short blond bob cut, speaking in a particularly loud voice. Both Helen and Nikki immediately felt the eyes of the law focussed on them even before the sergeant paced over in his number nine boots. Nikki turned her head to one side but Helen stood foursquare, feeling that combative streak in her, as it started pumping adrenaline through her nervous system. She was ready for anything and everything that might be thrown at them. It didn’t matter that her flimsy outfit didn’t dress the part to override supercilious policemen in the comfortable authority of their uniforms. She felt that she had that strength.
“I was the driver, sure enough,” she boldly declared.
She trotted out the preliminary enquiries firmly and confidently enough then went on to state her occupation, which made him blink, as she was completely different from those he was accustomed to interrogating.
“Were you chasing after that car?”
“Not exactly,” Helen began to say when the man cut her off rudely.
“Were you chasing that car, yes or no?”
“Perhaps it would be easier if I explain in my words. It might save valuable time,” she said softly with her most winning smile. Nikki looked sharply at her lover and noticed the forced smile that played on her face.
“Go ahead,” he said curtly.
“The car cut ahead of us at the junction of the ……” Helen’s voice tailed away until Nikki helpfully pointed out the junction on her road map with her forefinger…………..“ “When the car, a green MG sports car, registration number MHL 324L cut ahead of us… I instantly recognized the car as being that of Karen Betts, a wing governor of Larkhall Prison where I was once acting Governing Governor. It was being driven in a very peculiar erratic fashion, swerving from side-to-side and screeching round corners. I drove after the car , as I wanted to catch up with the driver and give that driver a piece of my mind. It was going so fast that my Peugeot was never able to get close. The car nearly had a side-to-side collision with a grey car coming out from this junction….. And here,” Nikki’s forefinger pointed out the junction….. “Until it hared down this street. Instead of swinging away past the pedestrian, the car drifted to the left and straight into the pedestrian, who was tragically killed. After the man rolled over the bonnet and the way was clear, the car drove off into the night. When I saw what had happened, naturally, I stayed behind to give assistance together with Nikki, as any public-spirited citizen should. I then phoned up your control center on my mobile phone.”
Nikki admired the way Helen spoke in a clearly articulated controlled tone of voice that answered pretty well, most of the questions as she went along. In reality, she was wresting a certain amount of control from the man as he couldn’t help but be receptive to her tone of precision and authority so that his manner became more amenable.
“Did you get a glimpse of the driver?”
“I couldn’t get close enough to see for sure, but the driver had a mane of long fair hair. That was all I could see.”
“I notice you use the word ‘it’ or the driver, never ‘she’ or ‘her.’ Can you explain this?”
“The Karen Betts I know is an experienced, responsible prison officer who had worked off and on for me. So I couldn’t understand why that car was driving so recklessly. It’s not in Karen Betts nature to drive in such a manner. Something doesn’t add up.”
“Madam, you leave the theories and investigation to us, the professionals,” retorted the man with a mixture of respect and patronization. “We may require you to make a formal statement if charges are brought against Miss Betts. We’ll be in touch. So what about your friend?”
Helen opened her mouth to protest but gave up on the idea of trying to tell the police how to do their job. The words she thought encapsulated their thinking whereas in reality, what she knew of Karen put her at an advantage over them. These coppers were touchy and vain about their professionalism where they had no right to be. Her eyes flickered over to Nikki and tried to silently reassure her.
“Name?”
“Nikki Wade.”
A look of recognition flashed across the policeman’s face and Nikki’s heart sank. They knew who she was all right. Her portrait might easily be pinned up on a dartboard in some policeman’s bar or wherever they hang out, off duty. She felt vulnerable, as the months she had spent out of prison had accustomed her to behave naturally without having to put up some kind of an act. It was only such a short while ago that she had that sense of peace and contentment with the world.
“Wait a minute, don’t I know you?”
“I rather doubt it. I don’t make a habit of socializing with policemen. High court judges...Yes. Barristers…Yes. Policemen, no,” Nikki replied in a taut tone of voice.
“So what is your address, Nicola Wade?”
“The same as Helen’s. We live together,” Nikki said shortly.
“You mean to say that…..”
“Yes, we are partners.”
“Partners? You might as well be roommates for all we know about you.”
“Huh?” Nikki said uncomprehendingly. This conversation was getting surreal. From her experience, there was one reason for two women to live together and that was because they were lovers. Women who chose to share a flat or house with no loving relationship between them struck her as totally eccentric.
“Can you stop all this talk about our sexuality and get on with the interview,” Helen quietly intervened and a flash of irritation on the man’s face was his only reply.
“The answer to the next question that you’ll ask will be about my occupation. I work as a researcher for the Howard League for Penal Reform.”
“A do gooder in other words,” sneered the man. He didn’t know what it was but it sounded like the typical liberal organization that gave him and his mates a load of grief.
“A professional, I’ll have you know,” Nikki said firmly, fixing the man’s eyes with her stern gaze as she drew herself up to her full height There was a tense pause in the interrogation which was Nikki’s bid to wrest some sense of autonomy. Inwardly, she surprised herself with the firmness of her reaction.
“So how did manage to be involved, in this, in the first place?” he asked in wooden tones.
“A friend at work suggested that we try out a new restaurant in the Docklands. Here’s the leaflet. It wasn’t in a part of town that we knew so when we were on the way back home, we’d got lost in this featureless part of London. This MG cut in front of our car and the rest is as Helen described it.”
“So have you got anything to add to your…. partner’s account of what went on tonight?”
“I’m sorry to say that there isn’t a great deal, officer.”
“Since you were the passenger, you might have seen more of what was going on. It’s possible that your chasing the car made it crash into the man and caused the tragedy.”
“That is definitely not true. I drive myself and that stretch of road is easily wide enough,” maintained Nikki, strongly pointing with her finger, “That driver could have cleared the pedestrian easily. There was nothing else on the road. Instead, he deliberately drove at that poor man. The tyre marks on the road should tell a very interesting story if you care to examine them.”
Helen had to repress a smile as Nikki gave back to this arrogant man far more verbal punches than she received, all in a beautifully controlled fashion.
‘You know that we may need to interview you further on the matter and maybe give evidence in a court of law. You know what that means of course.”
“I’m only happy to help out as a public-spirited citizen,” Nikki responded, a smile spreading across her face. Grumpily, the police officer turned aside letting the two women start to edge away.
“Guess you’ve got homes to go to,” one of the spectators said with understated respect. The hostile treatment by the police had swung public sentiment in their direction. Strangers or not, they had certainly mucked in and didn’t take any crap from anyone.
That went down well in this down to earth part of London.
“Darling we’d better make tracks for home. I don’t know about you but I’m tired and cold.”
“What time is it, Nikki?” Helen asked. It seemed a lifetime ago that the two women had walked out of the twinkling low lights of the restaurant thinking of nothing else but the way home to their flat.
“Unbelievably speaking…it’s one o’clock in the morning. Just as well we’ve got the weekend, well after tomorrow,” Nikki murmured sleepily. Now that the tension had been released, the pressure was off them and the adrenaline disconnected. This time, the police will let her go home, she thought as they slid into their car.
It was freezing cold and they both thought of being in each other’s warm embrace, as Helen started the engine. At last they were on their way home.






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Andliv2laf
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G2 landing
Bravo Richard!!!! I just walked by my computer and decided to see if there were any new posts...and guess what? You made my day, that was excellent! I felt like I was standing in the crowd watching the whole interview, and thank the stars Nikki held her tongue...maybe all those days down the block were useful after all. Again, brilliant writing Richard!!! :girlygiggle
AND
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emtsue
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G3 Curtain and Duvet!
:D Wonderful job Richard! Loved the way you had both Helen and Nikki stand up to those smug bastards!! I appreciated the fact that Helen was completely honest about whose car it was, but that she was not totally convinced it was Karen betts.
My feeling is that the police won't be able to find too much fault in Nikki and Helen's statements, but will be grilled to no end due to Nikki's past.
This always seems to override the real isssue at hand, and in this case Nikki has already rubbed the coppers the wrong way,not only by her calm demeanor,but by mentioning,in her own subtle way,what evidence(as in the tire tracks)they should look for.The fact that you have two extremely intelligent people(women no less) showing they have more common sense than the local police, will not do them any favors!
Ok I'm done rambling, and of course,as usual, I could be totally off base here. Thanks Richard,you always keep me analyzing.
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Axiegirl21
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:lol: Yea Nikki you give that arrogant bastard what for. I can see him writing in his notes now that the car crashed into the pedestian because Nikki was chasing it. As soon as he recognised her name he probably thought that straight away and is now trying to find a way to blame her for it. :thought I hope it goes better for Karen in this story than it did in the series :prisonbars Richard another great update my man can't wait to see what happens now.
The past is history.
The future a mystery.
And now is a gift thats why we call the present.



Larkhall Lovelies Rule
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richard
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This is all incredible feedback which I've waited till now to reply to, partly to mull it over and partly as Brit weather now is unpleasantly humid.

To you, Andliv2laf, I have tended to write Nikki as having become self controlled when she needs to yet having unpleasant thought associations of being questioned by the police. To feel you were actually in the crowd is a terrific compliment.

To you, emtsue, I love the way you have picked up on the way Helen and Nikki stood up to the police. Nikki's comment was so in line with her, the way in Series 2, she intervened when Karen Betts questioned Babs about the felt marker graffiti in the corridor. RespecT (or the lack of it) is so Nikki.

To you, Axiegirl21, you'll find out that I weave the storyline to come around actual some Bad Girls TV material and what I've created and, yes, your point about the police take on the cause of the accident is highly interesting. I find it very interesting to consider the way I've written it to the way it could have been written, being a believer in 'alternative history."

This is feedback at its best.
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Sashindu
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Sashindu
Richard, I just caught up - your story is amazing...
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richard
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Hi Sashindu- welcome to the journey and thanks very much for the feedback.

This next scene for those who have seen Bad Girls Series 5 starts just where the scene in larkhall stops and I am sure that those who haven't seen the series will understand the situation. It makes grim reading. I've also made use of a very minor BG Character who you'll all recognise.


''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Scene Eight


The cataclysmic plunge in Karen’s fortunes starting with the ignominious departure in handcuffs from Larkhall was the most emotionally shattering period of her life. It was as well for her nervous system, although tough, as she was, it didn’t feel real to her.

It was only yesterday that she’d delivered the package to Area management that she hoped would deliver the knockout blow to Fenner once and for all. She’d sped to Larkhall by taxi, carelessly asking the driver to keep the change and had been gratified at the prompt response by the police to her reported theft of her car. She had hoped that they would update her on the latest, as she needed to return to her business of running G-Wing. She might be on the way out in terms of working her notice at Larkhall, but she was fighting back and she had counted on Area Management being confronted with such incontrovertible evidence that it would put the skids under Jim bloody Fenner. Now she was faced with the terrifying prospects of the tables being turned on her, and worse.

“This is totally insane,” she protested to the stolid policeman after they frog marched her through the gates and towards the car park outside the walls. There was an empty space where her car should have been parked. She should be in the prison welcoming the new prison officer, Selena Geeson and continuing with the list of duties she had lined up for the day while her bomb was due to explode at Area.
“Come on, you have to accompany us to the police station,” came the wooden answer from DS Reivers, the nondescript balding man wearing a leather jacket. The minor courtesy of the open rear door of the police car was offered to her as she was half bundled into rear seat, a policeman either side of her like some common criminal. Not for the first time in the days to come, the thought crossed her mind that she treated prisoners better than these policemen treated her.

She was whisked off in the car that took her away from all that she held dear. This must be a nightmare but whatever lunatic asylum she’d fallen into, she knew that she would have to try and fight her way out of it. Key phrases had burnt their way into Karen’s mind ‘abandoning your car after a hit and run incident’ and ‘death by dangerous driving.’ They were the only clues as to what had happened to her car when she had parked her car in its usual spot and wherever the car had been picked up.

Karen stood sulkily as she was hanging around waiting to be booked in. Feelings of mingled anger and humiliation swelled up in her as her fingerprints were taken and she was breathalysed. She was escorted to an interview room where the door was shut tight on her. That was an insult for a start. Unknown to her, there was a fierce debate as the police station was hit by a sudden crisis and the young DC that had accompanied DS Reivers was pulled off to assist on another case. It dawned on them that the very man who might be best able to crack open the case was within the building, one who was burning for revenge for the way he had been sent off with a flea in his ear over the supposed accidental death of Renee Williams, the very vindictive DI Sullivan.


“Ah, we meet again. I remember meeting you as if it was yesterday, don’t I Miss Betts?”
Karen’s heart sank. She had been cursed by a run of bad luck, starting with the way that Snowball’s carefully planted ‘second’ suicide note had been contrived to drop her in it. Her anger flamed up at that dangerous and pathetic woman who had enacted her crazy suicide pact, the final sting of a dead wasp.
“As if it was yesterday,” intoned the suddenly subservient DS Reivers. At the best of times, they made for a very unfunny bad double act, and right now, they were doing Karen’s head in.
“It seems as if we have a lot of questions to ask you. You don’t have to worry as we have all the time in the world,” the loud tuneless Scottish voice intoned at funeral pace.
“I shouldn’t wonder,” Karen, replied non committally with a desperate attempt to assert her self worth.” I am your favourite wing governor after all.”
DI Sullivan’s mouth twitched in response and he proceeded to ask her for her name and address as if they were total strangers and Karen went along with the charade.
“What were you doing on the evening of Friday August 19th 2001?”
“I returned home from Larkhall Prison at five o clock as I normally do. I had some urgent work to do at home. I cooked myself a meal and set to work. When I was finished which was around ten o’clock, I took a shower, watched a bit of television and went straight to bed.”
“Have you any witnesses to co-oberate your version of the events of last night?”
“I’m afraid not. I’ve lived on my own since I split up with my boyfriend last January. All the flats on my block are self contained units so it’s very unusual to bump into anyone else.”
“An unfortunate choice of words, Miss Betts,” DI Sullivan replied in loud sarcastic tones.
“I speak as I find.”
“So did you go out during the course of the evening?”
“I told you, I stayed in.”
“Not even to get a pack of cigarettes, evening paper?”
“I had everything that I needed, cigarettes, plenty of food and, most important, pen and paper.”
“What did you need a pen and paper for?”
“To write a report as part of a file to the prison service Area Management detailing the systematic gross misdemeanors of a prison officer who works for me and to put together all the evidence.”
“So you didn’t slip out in your car for a quick errand?”
“How many times do I have to tell you, absolutely not?”
DI Sullivan was clearly relishing his position, shifted in his chair as he changed his tack to build up false hopes, which he planned to dash. Karen was not deceived.
“Assuming for the sake of argument your version of events is correct, when and how did you discover your car was missing?”
“I went down the flight of steps at the front of the flats, let myself into the underground car park and got to my parking space and found it missing.”
“Hold on a minute, how did you manage to let yourself into the car park?”
“My car keys are on the same ring as my security card. I reached for my car keys but they weren’t there. I assumed I’d mislaid them so I found my spare set and spare card in the safe place in the back of the cupboard and let myself in.”
“Are you seriously telling me that you mislaid a set of keys? That doesn’t sound like the actions of a competent governor of her majesty’s prison- assuming that you had mislaid the set in the first place.”
“Wing governor,” corrected Karen. She needed the crumb of comfort from that tiny correction.” Even we are human, like anyone else. I’ve always found the keys again on rare occasions they weren’t where I thought I’d put them so initially I wasn’t greatly worried.”
“So you know nothing about the man you ran over while careering down the street and swerving from side to side like a maniac?”
“Which street? I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about.”
“You know what I’m talking about. That main street in the old part of the docklands area.”
“Perhaps you care to point it out on the map to me?” shot back Karen in icy tones.” My job takes me to Larkhall prison, which is north of the river, as you very well know. If I’m asked to describe where I’ve been, I might at the very least have precise directions in the first place as to where I’ve supposed to have been.”
DI Sullivan turned red in the face as Karen thrust this barbed riposte straight back at him. He had counted on his enemy being so humiliated by her situation that she couldn’t fight back at him.
“For the information of the tape, DS Reivers is getting out an A – Z map of London, laying it on the table and pointing out to the suspect where her car ran over the pedestrian.”
Karen peered at the mass of criss crossing lines and, first of all worked out where her flat was. Then she looked at where DS Reivers’ forefinger was pointing. She shook her head in disbelief. He indicated an area that was right off the beaten track, being a woman of regular habits.
“I’ve never driven there in my life. It’s completely off the beaten track for me.”
“So where do you drive? I take it you’re not some kind of recluse.”
“I drive back and forward to Larkhall prison. As you can see on the map, it’s in completely the opposite direction. I get my shopping at the Tesco’s supermarket. Apart from that, I don’t get out most days. So what makes you think it was me driving my car?”
“You were positively identified driving your car at 10:14pm racing down the street, swerving all over the place and driving straight at the deceased. The man rolled over your front bonnet and fell down on the road. You were seen to accelerate off down the road and round the corner. The man died of internal bleeding following severe internal injuries.”
Karen’s mouth fell open and her face turned white with shock. This didn’t seem any more real than when she first heard the one liner description of the charges against her. Images rushed back into her head of the years her younger self slaved away in hospitals.
“Just how was I positively identified?”
“The driver was clearly seen wearing the same long fair hair. We showed a photograph of you to witnesses and they made a positive identification. You must admit you do stand out, in an ordinary crowd.”
“So that’s all you’ve got to go on. Looks pretty thin to me.”
“Oh does it? Perhaps you care to take a look at the exhibits that do put you in the frame. Sergeant Reivers, will simply bring some objects that you might find familiar.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Karen saw the other man fish out a prosaic looking bottle of whisky. It looked familiar but so what?
“Yeah, it’s a common or garden bottle of whisky, the sort I buy at Tesco’s but so do thousands of other people. There are racks of the stuff in case you hadn’t noticed,” she retorted scornfully.
“We’ve had this tested for fingerprints. Care to guess if they’ll match yours? It was found propped up in the passenger seat where you’d left it after your binge drinking.”
“I don’t deny I’d been drinking whisky this evening. We aren’t exactly living in America, in the Prohibition era. It means nothing.”
“Then what about this blue coat which was also left in your car? I suppose that this isn’t your coat and we can’t prove it,” DI Sullivan declared in loud triumphant and sarcastic tones.

This bombshell took the wind out of Karen’s sails. It was indeed her coat and she’d recalled not being able to find it this morning in the same way as her car keys. This was complete and total lunacy but it didn’t stop her feeling that her only defence was her memory of not being out last evening. Taking human life went totally against her nature. Someone had cunningly stolen her identity while she lay asleep and the real Karen would no more wantonly take human life. That was her sacred vow that she’d taken as a 17 year old joining the WRAF. The problem was that it was getting harder and harder to prove her side of the story.
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Andliv2laf
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Good ole Sullivan...add him to the growing list of wankers!! Great job Richard, I can't wait for Karen to find out it was Nikki and Helen. Great writing as usual, suspensful no doubt. I love it, keep up the great work!
AND
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Axiegirl21
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:o Oh crap Karen is in deep doodoo, I suggest she give George a call and then John, wouldn't hurt to have a judge on her side.
The past is history.
The future a mystery.
And now is a gift thats why we call the present.



Larkhall Lovelies Rule
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emtsue
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G3 Curtain and Duvet!
:o OH RICHARD,YOU'VE DUMPED THEM ALL IN IT NOW HAVEN'T YOU? I AGREE WITH EVERYONE ELSE,KAREN WILL NOT BE A HAPPY PUPPY TO FIND OUT THE WITNESSES WERE HELEN AND NIKKI,ALTHOUGH WE ALL KNOW THAT THEY WERE NOT CONVINCED IT WAS KAREN IN THE CAR. I'M HOPING THE COPPERS LET HER GO HOME AFTER THE INTERROGATION,AND ONCE THERE, SHE SEES A MESSAGE FROM HELEN AND NIKKI WAITING ON HER PHONE.I KNOW, TOO OPTIMISTC,RIGHT? OKAY,SO THEY'LL ALL END UP BEING INTERROGATED AT SOME POINT AT THE SAME TIME AND SEE EACH OTHER AT THE STATION.IT'LL BE ONE BIG MISCOMMUNICATION,FOR AWHILE ANYWAY. AND THEN.......THE THREE OF THEM WILL TAKE OVER THE INVESTIGATION AND SECRETLY SOLVE THIS "LITTLE" MISHAP , PUTTING SULLIVAN AND HIS CRONIES TO SHAME!!!
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Sashindu
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Sashindu
I am still enthralled…I love you writing…I can’t wait for your update.
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richard
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This feedback is really wonderful and thought provoking and reminds me how differently the fic appears as it unwinds to me knowing what will happen. What's interesting is how readers see it if they've never seen Bad Girls Series 5 &6.

To you, Aldlif2laf, you're only too right about DI Sullivan lumbering the obvious
To you, Aliegirl21, you don't underestimate the situation Karen is in and you have figured out the possibilities.
To you, Empsue, I fear I have made this scene too horrifying but have faith as your prayers will be answered.
To you, Sashindu, I'm glad this fic has grabbed your involvement.
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hopelessromantic
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Have the lab run a CBC with differential an a chem pro plus stat
My... I've been lax in catching up here Richard, but as always this is worth the read... I must say I'll have to hand over my KeepUsGuessing crown as you've nicely caught hold of it... Great writing.

HR
>>>>>> BGEnhanced <<<<<<

One cannot expect Congeniality when one does not exhibit Courtesy, Politenes and Impartiality.

Courtesies of a small and trivial character are the ones which strike deepest in the grateful and appreciating heart... Henry Clay
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richard
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This is being typically generous of you, HR :) . It's interesting how I can see readers are viewing this fic. I found betaing your very worthy fic highly engrossing and I'm certain that following your fic had a very creative effect on my writing. The 'keep us guessing' motif is only one of your very stylish patented writing techniques. I'd be more than happy to see more of your own work.
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richard
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This part will hopefully allay some of the fears in previous posts and explores a lot of personal backstory put side by side with newspaper stories. This is archetypal Helen thinking at work and a feeling how real the past can be. Enjoy. :)


Scene Nine

With a sinking feeling, Helen popped out to the newsagent on Saturday morning, as she was sure that the press would have been tipped off about the event. As she surveyed the display of newspapers, a front-page picture of Karen Betts on Page 1 of the nearest tabloid hit her in the eye. She reached out for it with nerveless fingers and quickly scanned it. She immediately felt sick in the pit of her stomach.

“Terrible business isn’t it. The streets aren’t a safe place with maniacs like her on the street,” the vendor volunteered.
“Yeah, isn’t it,” Helen answered in non-committal tones. What else could she say?

“Prison governor arrested for knocking down innocent pedestrian"


“The often troubled world of the prison service took a dramatic turn when police arrested Karen Betts, prison governor at Larkhall Prison for wantonly driving into a pedestrian in a callous instance of ‘road rage’ in the London Docklands area last night. Spectators waiting outside a takeaway restaurant saw the green sports car driving erratically at great speed down the main street and hurtling straight for an innocent pedestrian who had made the mistake of standing just off the pavement. Many spectators recognized the driver’s long fair hair and gave evidence that enabled the car to be traced and Miss Betts to be identified. She was arrested at the prison itself and is reported to have said that ‘it was all a fit up.’ She has since resigned from the prison service and is awaiting trial.

A Home Office spokesman was unavailable for comment.”


Helen carefully avoided the worst tabloid of the lot, which was only more strident, more illiterate and more bigoted than the others. It had an evil reputation of attacking every liberal cause she believed in and would rather enter an adult sex shop than be caught with that tabloid in her hands. She reached out to the Guardian to try and get some balance, and there it was on Page 7, less prominent, more restrained in tone but essentially the same message. It was at moments like this that made her especially cynical about so-called democratic freedoms.

“Hi babes, you’ve been out early,” a yawning Nikki greeted a grim faced Helen as she entered the flat. She slung the newspapers on the table with a grimace on her face.
“I didn’t want to check out the papers but it wasn’t any use in us burying our heads in the sand.
“Bastards,” said Nikki shortly after flicking through the articles. “They didn’t waste any time in sticking the boot in.”
“You’re as convinced as you were last night that Karen had nothing to do with all this,” stated Helen in flat tones of voice. It was hardly a question.
“I know what you’re thinking, sweetheart. I went through something like this when I took out Gossard. You’ll never believe the filth that they spewed up for weeks afterwards.

That would make me naturally take Karen’s side. I’d think that the whole thing is some kind of sick joke if I hadn’t found how real it can get.”
“Come and sit next to me on the sofa, sweetheart. We need to talk,” said a tensed up Helen.
“Sure, fire away.”
“The whole situation feels all wrong to me. I can feel it in my bones. The trouble is that my instincts point my way and the obvious facts the police will follow point the other way,” Helen pronounced emphatically.
“Why are we bothering so much about Karen?” questioned Nikki sharply.

The obvious question stopped Helen in her tracks. She was running on gut instinct, the same impulse that had made her feel that no matter how that ultimate ‘hard case’ lifer had lashed every prison officer with her sarcasm, there had been something in her that had drawn her attention. She hadn’t known what it was but when she found it, she recognized it for what it was.
“Good question, Nikki. Why should we bother? After all, we could say we haven’t any need to get involved.”
“…..That’ll be the day….” murmured Nikki, which made Helen smile.
“…..We had planned to taking life easy after backing Sally Anne in her fight for justice. Everything is going well in our own lives so we could do with a break except…..”
“…Except that we’re suckers for trouble, the same as John and the rest of the gang are,” finished Nikki for Helen, getting to the heart of the matter.”
“There’s more than that to it. Towards the end of my time at Larkhall, Karen exasperated me beyond reason. My patience ran out with her and I told her that I was sick to death in trying to get her to see that Fenner was a misogynist bastard. The tragedy is that she was basically the same kind of liberal wing governor as I was and we shared the same ideals. She’d seen Shell Dockley after Fenner had beaten her up and I’d warned her about him when I first came back to Larkhall. I thought she understood. So what did she do but climb into Fenner’s bed and start warning me off against harassing the bastard. What irony. Yet, at the same time, she remained a decent prison officer. No way can I imagine the careful meticulous Karen Betts driving like a maniac, going out of her way to tell every policeman for miles around ‘hey, come and arrest me.’ On a basic self interest level, she’s got a responsible job and she wouldn’t wish to tarnish it.”
“You’re forgetting that we haven’t seen her for, let me see ten months, since she drove into the back of us. People change.”
“You’re making my point for me. That was a pretty close comparison with last night’s events. Just think… she made an understandable slip up that others have made before and she played things by the book the same way she did her job despite all the grief we gave her. She’s no chancer. She’d been dumped on by Fenner and didn’t sound if she had any illusions about him…”
“…..You’re talking about the prison officer, Helen. What about the woman?”
“What indeed?” mused Helen thoughtfully. As usual, Nikki had hit the nail on the head. “You know, I never really knew her personally, not properly.”
“So where does that take us?
“Let’s look at it this way. There are only two possibilities. Either she drove the car for some crazy twisted reason we don’t know about or someone else was driving that car.”
“So who’s that someone? Fenner? In a blonde wig and drag? That’s the sickest, funniest idea I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Nikki burst into hysterical laughter and fell off the sofa at the absurdity of the idea and Helen laughed along with her. All the same, Helen figured that they shouldn’t exclude any possibility. Since when was anything normal at Larkhall except their love?

“If you’re going to draw up a shortlist of someone who’d stitch Karen up in this way, who would you choose? I’d pick Fenner… Fenner and Fenner. There’s not another person so evil.”
“Yes but think of his psychology. He’d have to be totally bloody desperate to do that. If he’s mouthed off about lesbians as if they’re some kind of threat to him then meeting someone like Boy George or Julian Clarry would freak him out. I can’t even think of him becoming like that. Come on, Helen, what you’re saying is so improbable.”
“There’s a lot in what you’re saying. We need more information about what Larkhall is like these days. Perhaps we need to scout out the place from the inside.”
“Me become a con? No thank you.” Nikki said shortly.
“Does your job give you the chance to get to visit prisons in your official capacity. You can’t just work by paperwork and official reports. You and I know better than that.”

A faraway look came into Nikki’s eyes as she contemplated the idea and her own voice talking back to her….I’ve always backed away from going back to my past- the intensity of my memories, for good or bad are too much for me to deal with. The idea of it feels like stepping blindfold into a snakepit and it frightens me. I was barely strong enough to survive that period…..ah, but you did survive it. You could have gone under, as some did, like Rachel Hicks. I can see all those uniforms, all those official frowns of disapproval of who I am, lesbian cop killer, troublemaker. I can see that policeman who interviewed us last night, same sort of uniform, same look of disapproval, and yet I’d stepped onto his territory and beaten him at his own game. I’m stronger than I thought I was… I can see the faces of my dear friends, the Julies, Yvonne and Barbara who I’d left behind. I’ve been enjoying the good life while they’d been rotting alive. How can I swan into Larkhall as this posh visitor and go home at nights while they go back to their lockups and the clang of the cell doors?

“What’s on your mind, Nikki?” Helen asked her at last, very gently and softly as Nikki’s gaze became distant and abstracted.
“You were there as well, Miss Stewart?”
“What are you saying, sweetheart?” Helen asked, brushing the taller woman’s cheek with her fingertips.” I’m Helen, the same as I’ve always been to you.”

It was that delicate touch which brought Nikki back to the present and she answered in an unsteady tone of voice as she reached out and held the smaller woman’s hands. They were perfectly real to her.
“I’m sorry darling. I was just reliving my past…..our past….”
“Isn’t that obvious.”
Nikki laughed shakily, leaned forward and embraced her lover who, bewilderingly enough, used to lock her up for a living. It all seemed very peculiar to her as her memory recoiled from the past.
“If we’re going to find out what the hell is going on at Larkhall, we have to go there and find out what we’re dealing with. Let’s face it, I’d think twice about going there but I haven’t got the means of entry but you have. The most important thing is that you have the perfect right to be there, do some practical research and they have to defer to you. They’ll hate your guts but you have the official clout that they are afraid of.”
“What about the friends I left behind?”
“They’ll understand. Just trust me,” Helen said earnestly, unconsciously evoking the past. She was enormously relieved to read the sensitivities on Nikki’s expressive face that her urgings had done the trick.

I have trusted Helen where the light of my own individual perceptions did not illuminate the way and that trust has paid off. That was the ultimate test of trust and a fundamental reason why we’re living together now.

“Somehow, I’ve always known that there is unfinished business at Larkhall for both of us and we’re destined to revisit it. Yes, we have to do it.”

The faraway look in Nikki’s eyes as she spoke faded as she faced the here and now. She nodded her head decisively. The decision was made.


******


Getting authorization for her visit the following Monday was far easier than she had suspected. It was as if the machinery had been set up before she and Helen had agreed on the idea, just waiting for them to trip the pedal.

“You must be psychic, Nikki,” her boss told her enthusiastically.” This is exactly the right time and right prison. Between you and me, we have long had our suspicions that the glowing official reports from the Home Office aren’t all they have been cracked up to be. The Governing Governor is a typical spin doctor type, all buzz words, which makes me especially suspicious of him.”

Nikki had liked her boss from the word go. He was casually dressed and wore his hair slightly longer than was normal these days, evoking the catchphrase of ‘ageing hippie.’ That was an advantage and explained his quietness and maturity of manner. He accepted her, as she was which was a supreme virtue in her book. He had absolutely no authoritative controlling hang-ups. He was a good listener and was ready with advice when she came to him. Their working relationship was exactly the way she wanted.

“I have to make a confession,” she said awkwardly. “I am looking into the case that’s in the papers, of the wing governor, who’s supposed to have knocked down that pedestrian. I know her to some extent and Helen even better than I do and we’re sure that this is an absolute impossibility. I want to go in there and check out the groundwork.”

“You’ve confessed a private agenda, Nikki. It’s good that you’ve been upfront with me from the start. My advice to you is to be very careful. You know the political climate we work in. You know better to not give our political enemies a handle they can use against us. I trust you, Nikki to do the right thing. Just don’t let us down.”
“Sure, Paul,” Nikki said earnestly nodding her head. “I wouldn’t let you down for all the tea in China. Helen has impressed that very same warning on me this morning. You know what she’s like.”
A smile curved Paul Armstrong’s lips. He had vivid memories of that conference where the striking looking charismatic Scottish woman had made an immediately favourable impression on him. She had somehow outshone that earnest man with untidy hair and had drunk him under the table even if he had delivered a capable enough lecture. When Nikki, first confided who her partner was, he had put two and two together and immediately put them together in the same imaginary photograph frame without a blink of imagination.
“You make sure that you remember me to Helen. That’s the only other thing I ask of you.”
Nikki grinned confidently. Her spirits were lightened. She wouldn’t let the guy down.






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