Perfect Silence

by Helen Fields

  ‘One minute.’ She turned around to Overbeck and Lively. ‘Lively, get behind the desk out of sight right now. Ma’am, sit down and say nothing.’

  Overbeck tutted but did as she was told. Lively grinned as he squashed his bulk into the space beneath the desk. Ava opened the door, and left it wide enough that the backup team could see all corners of the room.

  ‘Entirely my mistake. I thought I heard an incident, but it turns out it was the detective superintendent engaged in a heated telephone conversation. I panicked. Too many days without sleep, I guess. Sorry everyone. You can go back to whatever you were doing.’

  There was a ripple of laughter at Ava’s expense and some good-natured muttering as the six men and women walked back down the corridor. Stepping through the doorway, Ava made to pull Overbeck’s office door closed behind her as she exited.

  ‘No you don’t, Turner,’ Overbeck said. ‘Get back in here.’

  ‘Actually, I’m going to my office,’ Ava said, ‘and I’m going to pour myself a massive fucking drink.’

  ‘Not if you know what’s good for you. We’re going to sort this out right now.’

  Ava raised her eyes to the ceiling, biting down hard on her bottom lip, before whirling round and storming back into Overbeck’s office, slamming the door behind her. ‘You know what, ma’am, you lost the moral high ground a couple of minutes ago, so you can stop talking to me as if I’m a schoolgirl.’

  ‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about,’ Lively said. ‘Can you not turn a blind eye, Chief Inspector? We’re consenting adults, after all.’

  ‘I wish I had been blind for a few seconds back there. Sadly, the sight of you naked is now going to be burned into my brain for the rest of my days. That’s before I start to consider just what a hypocrite you are, after everything you’ve said …’ Ava ranted.

  ‘Now, you’re not allowed to get personal, ma’am,’ Lively said. ‘The superintendent and I—’

  ‘Lively, get the fuck out of my office,’ Overbeck commanded. ‘And go straight home. I don’t think DCI Turner wants to bump into you again for a while.’

  ‘Ever,’ Ava added.

  Lively picked up his coat from where he’d draped it over the back of a chair. ‘Women,’ he muttered as he left.

  Ava waited until she heard the stairway door at the far end of the corridor slam behind him.

  ‘He’s been in a relationship for more than twenty years. Did you ever stop to think about that? And it may be none of my business, but you’re married, too. Do those relationships not matter to either of you?’ Ava asked.

  ‘You have no right lecturing me. I’m still your superior officer,’ Overbeck said.

  ‘Lively is my detective sergeant, and he is not supposed to be engaged in an extra-marital relationship with a superior which might impact on his work, specifically undermining my working relationship with him, so I have every right to ask about this. I need my team balanced and focused. That does not include having their home lives wrecked because you got bored and fancied a bit of rough!’ Ava shouted.

  ‘How dare you!’ Overbeck responded.

  ‘You want to know how I dare? I dare because I woke to a scream and was concerned that an officer was being attacked. Instead I find some grotesque scene from a soft porn flick being played out above my head.’

  ‘Not that,’ Overbeck said, walking to within inches of Ava’s face. ‘How dare you call DS Lively a bit of rough! He’s intelligent, loyal and one of the few people in this goddamn building not scared to stand up to me.’

  ‘Don’t turn this around. I wasn’t calling Lively rough from my perspective, but he hardly fits into your high society landscape, does he? I’ve never heard you say a good word about him,’ Ava replied.

  ‘Life isn’t always as simple as you make it out it to be, Ava. For the record, both our relationships have gone the way most do when you’re married to a police officer. It might last a year, or twenty, but sooner or later the long hours, the stress and the carnage we can never unsee gets too much. My husband left me, DCI Turner. Apologies for not explaining that to you. Lively’s partner refuses to talk about his work. Not one word. She’s banned the subject from the house. Kind of tricky when he’s dedicated his life to the service, don’t you think?’

  She stepped away, reaching for a cupboard and taking out a bottle of cognac and two glasses. She poured an inch into each glass before handing one to Ava, who downed the contents.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Ava said.

  ‘Oh, cut the crap,’ Overbeck replied. ‘Tell me what you want.’

  ‘What?’ Ava spluttered.

  ‘There’ll be a price. There always is. You stay silent, and I do what? Guarantee a recommendation for your next promotion? Let you have your pick for the open detective inspector position? Name it. The only caveat is that you don’t go after Lively. He doesn’t need disciplinary proceedings at this stage of his career.’

  ‘You know, you really should try to see the world in a more positive light,’ Ava said. ‘I won’t go after Lively. Not because you’ve told me not to, but because he’s a bloody good policeman and I need him on my squad. And believe me, he’s capable of finding disciplinary trouble without my help. More to the point, I don’t want anything. Do I wish I hadn’t walked in on you? You bet I bloody do. But this will be the last you’ll hear of it. I don’t want to ever think about it, or be reminded of it, again. I want nothing from you in return. Not everything in life is about negotiation and prices, Superintendent. Certainly not when two people apparently care about one another.’ She set her glass down gently on Overbeck’s desk.

  ‘I’d rather pay my debts,’ Overbeck said. ‘It’s very simple. You keep quiet and I’ll make sure I repay you.’

  ‘Honestly, I’d prefer that you didn’t,’ Ava said. ‘Now if you don’t mind, ma’am, I think I’ll go home. I could use a shower.’ She made her way to the door.

  ‘Turner,’ Overbeck said. ‘It wouldn’t do you any harm either – a relationship. Don’t think you’re beyond needing human contact. You’re cutting yourself off. The loneliness catches up with you in the end. Take my advice. A flawed relationship is better than none at all.’

  ‘You’re going to give me relationship advice after this?’ Ava laughed. ‘Good God, and there was me thinking tonight couldn’t get any more bizarre.’ She stepped out and closed Overbeck’s door behind her.

  Ava took the stairs two at a time, feeling grimy and angry, more from Overbeck’s suggestion that she might want a favour in return for silence than from what she had witnessed. Worse than that was the sting of Overbeck’s advice. Ava didn’t need a relationship to be happy. She was busy and fulfilled. It was true that police officers made bad partners. What was the point of starting something that was inevitably going to go wrong in the end anyway? She took her keys from her desk, trying not to think about the spectacle of Lively and Overbeck having sex. Trying to ignore the fact that it seemed as if everyone else in the world was having sex, except her.

  Chapter Twenty

  The film ended and Selina moved her head sleepily against Callanach’s neck.

  ‘Can you stay?’ she asked.

  ‘I’d better get back to my apartment. I have to be at the station early,’ he replied.

  ‘You’re not far from the city centre here,’ she said. ‘You’ve got your mobile with you. They’ll find you if they need you.’

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I won’t sleep properly here. I’m just used to my own place. It’s going to be a tough day again tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you awake all night if I’m restless.’

  ‘I was hoping we wouldn’t get much sleep,’ Selina said, smiling up at him and running a hand lightly down his chest.

  Callanach took her hand in his, kissed her wrist then moved away to stand up. ‘I really can’t,’ he said. ‘Although I appreciate the offer more than you know.’

  Selina stayed in her seat, stretching out her long legs and propping her head on her hand. ‘Luc,
we’ve been seeing each other a couple of months now and you haven’t stayed over once. If I can state the obvious, you haven’t tried to get me into bed either. I’m getting all the signals, but it never leads anywhere. Can we at least talk about it?’

  ‘It’s late,’ he said. ‘There’s a conversation to be had, I agree, but could it wait until the weekend?’

  ‘By the weekend, there’ll be another crisis at work or I’ll be putting in a double shift and we won’t see each other. I’m a patient woman, Luc, and I like you. A lot, actually. I also have no desire to jump straight into bed with every man I date, but I’m starting to think that maybe you’re not interested in me the same way I am in you.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Luc said. ‘Honestly, it’s complicated. I told you at the start that I didn’t think I was ready for anything intimate. Perhaps this was a mistake. I’m sorry, Selina. We’ve drifted into a relationship I know I can’t have. I should go.’

  Selina stood up, taking hold of him by the arm as he picked up his coat. ‘Luc, no. That’s not where I wanted this to go. If you need more time, I can wait. If I’m doing something wrong, I’d rather you told me now than letting this ruin everything. I didn’t want to push you. It would be good to know if you’re attracted to me or not. Sometimes it seems as if there’s a wall between us.’ She took her hand off his arm and smiled. ‘Whatever it is, I’d rather you just told me. Even if things don’t work out between us. I’m your friend if nothing else.’

  She sat down again, passive, unpushy. Callanach had known the conversation was coming. You could muddle through a few weeks of a new relationship with coffee and the odd meal, but then there was kissing. Hellos and goodbyes in public or an arm slung casually around another person’s shoulders did no harm. But then there had been meals at Selina’s flat, evenings spent relaxing after long hikes, and late arrivals home from nights out. He had always been able to use work as an excuse before now. But Selina was right. She had been patient with him and she was owed more. Even if she decided not to see him again, he felt the weight of responsibility for having drawn her into beginning something that he couldn’t see through.

  ‘You know about the rape allegation,’ he said, sitting down at the far end of the couch. ‘When it all finished, it became clear that I was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Even after the court entered a not guilty verdict, once Astrid had decided not to give evidence against me, the process left me devastated. Not being believed. Leaving Interpol under a cloud. At times, questioning my own sanity when Astrid produced medical evidence about her injuries.’

  ‘It must have been appalling for you,’ Selina said. ‘Of course it impacted on you psychologically. How could it not?’

  ‘It was more than just psychological. My health suffered. I wasn’t seeing anyone when I was first arrested for the rape charge, and there was no possibility of getting close to anyone while I was awaiting trial, so I didn’t realise for a long time just how badly I’d been affected. For months I couldn’t sleep properly. I didn’t want to eat, I stopped exercising, all the usual stuff. I was facing the prospect of a long jail sentence with the lifetime label of sex offender. At one point, although I’m sure I’d never have gone through with it, I contemplated suicide.’

  ‘Did you seek help at the time?’ Selina asked.

  ‘No. I hid myself away and pretended it wasn’t happening. When your own lawyer is telling you things don’t look good and that perhaps you should enter a plea and hope for a shorter sentence, it really doesn’t feel as if there’s much point in going on. A therapist would only have told me what I already knew – that I had to wait for the outcome of the trial, for resolution of one sort or another, so that I could move forward. At that stage I had no idea quite how long term the devastation to my life would be.’

  ‘I understand,’ Selina said. ‘And I know you must find it hard to trust women now. I get that the prospect of putting your faith in someone must seem daunting. You have to take it one day at a time. I’m sorry if I’ve been pressuring you …’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Callanach said. ‘As much as I resented having to move to Scotland at first, I’ve come to feel at home here. I have no desire to spend the rest of my life alone. For what it’s worth, I already trust you. I know you’re nothing like Astrid.’

  ‘I can find you a counsellor here, a good one. There are some specialist PTSD psychologists around who’ll help get you through this. The fact that you’re able to talk to me about it now is a good sign,’ Selina said.

  ‘Selina, it’s no good. Rehashing the whole thing with a psychologist is the last thing I want.’

  ‘But you have to try to move forward. Giving in to this can’t be the answer …’

  ‘I’m impotent,’ he said.

  Selina was silent for a few seconds. ‘That’s why you haven’t wanted to stay,’ she said finally.

  ‘Exactly. It’s also a difficult conversation to have with a person you’re dating. I shouldn’t have kept it from you for so long. It wasn’t fair and I’m sorry. This can’t work. I hope you can forgive me for dragging you into a hopeless situation,’ he said.

  ‘Well, what have you tried? Viagra might be a means of starting things again.’

  ‘I’ve been there and I really didn’t enjoy it. Getting a fake reaction from my body isn’t what I want. It’s knowing that my body doesn’t respond that’s the worst of it. Using chemicals to enable myself to have sex is almost worse than not having it at all.’

  ‘Have you … tried many times?’

  ‘A couple,’ Luc said. ‘Disastrously. None that I want to talk about, to be honest.’

  ‘And is there nothing that gets you interested? Maybe thinking too hard about it is wrong. Just getting a little bit drunk, relaxing, taking your time.’

  ‘Drunk, sober, high, asleep, nothing will make any difference. I get no reaction at all. All I can think about are the things Astrid claimed I did to her. I know it’s just fear, and I know where it’s coming from. If I have sex, will I be accused of rape again? It’s very basic psychology, no different than a child being scared to go into the garden because they were stung by a wasp, but it’s so ingrained in me now that I can’t see a path to recovery.’

  ‘That’s the PTSD talking,’ Selina said. ‘It might be slow progress but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t bother trying. What’s the worst that can happen? If there’s no reaction to sexual stimuli at the moment, you’re at zero. Any recovery at all would be an improvement, even if it’s gradual or partial.’

  ‘Spoken like a true doctor,’ Luc said.

  Selina smiled. ‘I’m sorry. I just put my diagnose-plan-treat head on. Sometimes it’s easier to think of problems that way. Disassociate yourself from it a bit. How about a three-pronged attack? Feel free to accept or reject any of this as you see fit.’

  ‘I’m listening,’ Luc said.

  ‘I’ll put together some recommendations for psychologists who have experience in treating sexual disorders. I won’t talk to any of them, or take it any further than that. Then, if and when you feel ready to talk about it with a professional, you’ll have some options.’

  ‘Okay,’ Luc said. ‘That sounds sensible.’

  ‘And I’ll investigate other medical solutions, just because more information is always better than less. I’ll exclude oral medication as you’ve tried that and you weren’t happy with it,’ she said. ‘I won’t attempt to persuade you about any of it. You can ask me about the options if you feel like exploring them.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Luc said. ‘What’s the third part?’

  ‘Okay, well the third part is where I stop being a doctor and I’m just your girlfriend again.’

  ‘I think I prefer that approach,’ Luc said.

  ‘Me too,’ Selina replied, standing up and undoing the buttons on her shirt.

  ‘I appreciate what you’re doing, but I really don’t think another failed attempt is going to do my ego much good,’ Luc said softly.

 
‘Oh, this isn’t for you,’ Selina said, peeling off her shirt to reveal a midnight blue lace bra. ‘We’ve been seeing each other nearly three months. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is, dating the best-looking man you’ve ever seen, complete with six-pack and French accent, then going to bed alone at the end of every date?’ Luc shook his head. ‘Well, I’ll tell you. Most of the time I’ve felt as if I might explode from wanting you.’ She undid her zip, pushing her jeans to the floor. ‘So what I think is this. Your body might not be firing on all cylinders just yet, but mine definitely is. Let’s forget about trying to have intercourse and be more inventive. I have no problem with devoting a couple of hours exclusively to my sexual pleasure, if you don’t. And just maybe, perhaps not now but at some point, you’ll be able to forget what you went through for a few seconds and get that spark back. Because there’s nothing wrong with you physically. Certainly not from where I’m standing. You do seem to be wearing substantially more clothes than me though, and I think we should remedy that pretty quickly.’ She began to unbutton his shirt. ‘It can be our project. I’m going to make my body available to you any time you need some therapy. As long as it doesn’t get too frustrating for you, I’m happy for you to give me any amount of pleasure.’

  ‘That’s very magnanimous of you,’ Luc laughed.

  ‘I know,’ Selina replied. ‘How are you with bras, only mine seems to still be on, for some reason.’

  ‘That’s a particular skill of mine,’ Luc said, reaching around her back and unhooking it.

  ‘Good to know,’ she replied, standing up in front of where he was sitting. ‘But I still seem to be wearing one last item. Shall we see if you can find a way to help me out of those, too?’

  Luc did as she requested, then stood up, picking her up in his arms and carrying her through to the bedroom. He had no complaints. Selina was beautiful. In his previous life in Lyon, she was exactly the sort of woman he’d loved spending time with – passionate, intelligent, fun and sporty. And she was right: just because he couldn’t experience sexual fulfilment didn’t mean he had to stop engaging in it with her. He was good at it. He understood women’s bodies, what to say, how to touch, the timing and psychology of it. None of those skills had been lost or even reduced by what he’d been through.