Their lack of socialising over the beginning of the week outside of the necessary had culminated in them both needing to get out of Camille's little house. There was only so much time that they could spend alone before the island gossips deemed their behaviour rude and indecent.

Humphrey had been included despite much whinging on Richard's part, redeeming himself slightly in his eyes by gracefully declining, explaining that the station needed to be manned for a little longer. Camille had seemed almost as relieved as Richard had and when he had finally arrived she had been equally grateful that he had excused himself after one awkward drink.

She had left the old van guard at the table, retreating to the bar for another drink. She stood watching him, laugh openly, his eyes shining with animation, surprising both Fidel and Dwayne for the first time by poking fun at himself and his time on the island. She was almost as surprised as they were at the change in him. The shroud of responsibility he had donned when he had been their boss had been well and truly cast off. His clothes had helped. Camille had banned the suit and tie, unnecessarily as it turned out as Richard had had no intention of ever wearing anything resembling wool in the heat again. But the lightweight material had clearly given him a new lease of life. He wasn't returning to an island where he used to work. This was a man on holiday determined to finally enjoy himself amongst people he trusted.

She leant over the bar, feeling for a bottle opener, removing the lid of her beer with a soft hiss as she looked on, her mother quietly joining her, as interested in seeing the change in Richard as her daughter was.

She shook her head once hardly believing her eyes. "He's so different Cami. I never thought I'd see it." Camille smiled broadly as Catherine leaned in conspiratorially. "Do you remember, all that huffing and puffing about his tea and his suit?" The smile turned into a small laugh as she remembered his bluster and his pomposity. Enjoying an increasingly rare moment of bonding with her daughter Catherine continued. "And always wanting to be on his own? Even at his birthday party?"

"He just wanted some space, Maman." It was rather a lame attempt to justify his past behaviour, but Catherine kept quiet, knowing that nothing would remove her daughter's rose tinted spectacles that were now firmly in place when it came to the man she loved.

"So…" Camille raised an eyebrow to her mother's opening line. She knew what was coming, but was too drunk to bother to put her guard up. She shifted on her feet and waited for the question she knew her mother had been dying to ask ever since her initial rebuff. "You never told me what he was like."

She gave an exasperated sigh. "You know what he's like."

"I mean in private!" Camille rolled her eyes and Catherine tried a cajoling, "I just want to make sure you're happy!" Camille bit back a laugh, her mother's need for gossip was legendary, but she gave in all the same, shrugging.

"He's sweet Maman."

"Sweet?" Catherine had been hoping for a little more than sweet.

Camille huffed. She hoped her mother would leave it at that.

She didn't. "Lily says I need to talk to you about respecting your neighbours…she says that there was some quite intimate kissing on your doorstep on Friday night…"

"Well Lily should respect the privacy of her neighbours…" Catherine was trying desperately to hold in a laugh, but after catching Camille's eye both women dissolved in to giggles.

Camille's resolve disintegrated completely, drifting away for a moment reliving that first kiss again, and the many they had had since. "He's just…different." Catherine raised an eyebrow. "I don't know how to explain it. Everything I judged him on when I first met him was so wrong: the bluster and the anger. That's not him."

Clearly Richard's emotional fragility wasn't enough for Catherine. "And the sex?" she raised her eyebrows cheekily.

Camille tried not to choke on her beer. "Maman!"

"Oh come on!"

Camille was trying desperately to stop her mouth running away with her, Richard would be mortified if he knew they were talking about him like this. She settled for a very bland, "he's very passionate."

"He'd have to be if your kissing was enough to outrage Lily." Camille said nothing but smiled enigmatically. Catherine tried again, "Camille..."

She was propping herself up on the bar, leaning in to her palm and staring at the bottles that lined the wall willing her mother to give up. Knowing that that wasn't an option she reiterated, "he's very passionate." Before smiling naughtily and adding, "and giving." Her mother raised an eyebrow at that.

"And you're happy?" Camille nodded and Catherine smiled lovingly at her only child. "He's happy too. Everyone can see it. I've never seen him this relaxed."

"Relaxed?" Humphrey had joined the twosome, his interest piqued by Catherine's final analysis of, as far as he could see, the very straight laced detective. He waved his bottle at Catherine in a friendly manner. It seemed that tonight everyone was happy to drink their responsibilities away.

Catherine laughed, pointing an accusatory finger at Humphrey, turning to the fridge to retrieve another beer. "You should have seen him before."

"You've changed him then?" A brief frown crossed his face unseen as he thought about everything Sally had tried to change about him. Camille thought she could distinguish a touch of sadness in his voice as she considered her answer.

"No. He was just shy."

Catherine smiled at her daughter's analysis of what she now understood had been a very lonely and misunderstood man and handed Humphrey's drink over.

Camille turned to him. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot." He was happy to change the subject, unlike Catherine he hadn't wanted to spend any time discussing the man he believed to be robbing him of his only chance of happiness.

"Do you know what 'bog flushing' is?"

Humphrey choked a small laugh in to his beer. It certainly had not been what he had been expecting. It never was with Camille. "Can I ask the context?"

"I…heard some boys talking about it on the beach…" it was an awful lie, and one she hoped he wouldn't call her out on. But he let it go, frowning as he mulled over his answer.

"English boys?" She nodded. He looked mildly perplexed. "I didn't realise they were still doing that." He looked up to find her still looking at him, willing him to explain. "Um…you got it in schools with fagging." This did nothing to clear up her confusion. "Fagging?" His repetition of the word in a slightly more clearly enunciated way didn't help either. "When older boys get younger boys to do stuff for them?" She nodded even though she had no idea what he was talking about. "I didn't think they were allowed to do fagging anymore either though." His train of thought came back to her original question. "So, bog flushing. You just shove someone's head down the loo and pull the flush. Usually happened to the really clever kids in my school. You know, the ones no one liked?"

Camille had gone very quiet.

"Is everything alright?"

She managed to pin a smile on her face despite all of her feelings pointing to the contrary. "Yes. Fine."

"Does that clear up your question?" She nodded. Humphrey still seemed a little lost in their previous conversation. "Um, the boys." Her eyes widened in expectation, "if you see them again, perhaps tell their parents or something. Fagging's nasty stuff, can turn sexually…" he wasn't really sure how to explain it to her so finished with an all encompassing, "nasty. You know." She nodded then realised that she didn't actually know what he meant. She was about to say as much when she noticed that he was shaking his head. "Actually don't. Probably best not to get involved. They were probably just repeating something they'd read in a book anyway. Maybe talk to them instead. They might open up to you." He smiled at her and took another swig, imagining that if Camille had spoken to him as a boy he would have told her anything she liked.

Back at the table, alcohol was beginning to affect the little group far more than they thought, Dwayne's gesticulations were becoming more wild and a small pool of beer was being splashed on to the table every time he used his bottle to make his point. "I'm telling you chief, I didn't think the two of you would get this far. All that flirting and," he shrugged, "nothing…"

"We didn't flirt." Dwayne snorted and Richard looked genuinely astonished. "Did we? I mean, did we flirt?" Fidel shot Dwayne a small smile at his senior's naivety.

"Come on chief. All that tension bubbling away between the two of you." Richard still looked blank. "You had no idea? Seriously?" He lifted his beer to his lips shaking his head and muttering, "clueless."

Richard looked guilty. "You sound like Camille."

Fidel chipped in, all sweet smiles and not for the first time did Richard realise how much he had missed having him as a friend. "Seriously sir. You had no idea?" He had given up insisting that Fidel call him by his Christian name, he knew it would never happen.

"Fidel, if you knew of some of the spectacular mistakes I have made with my love life you wouldn't sound so surprised." Fidel raised an eyebrow and Dwayne leant forward eager for more information before his old superior put up his old defences. But it was wishful thinking as Richard said a firm, "you don't need to know."

"Come on chief, it's not as if we haven't all been there."

Richard raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You? You've made mistakes with women?"

Dwayne shrugged. "One or two when I first started out…I once got invited in for coffee." He paused dramatically, his small audience willing him to continue. He gave a short, "I told her I didn't like coffee." This was met with complete derision and as close to jeering as it was possible to get for such a small group.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Who doesn't like coffee…"

"Hey, I thought coffee was coffee. I didn't know."

"How old were you?" Richard was becoming more suspicious by the second.

"Fifteen."

"Fifteen?" There was another round of disbelieving spluttering.

Dwayne shrugged as Richard continued. "Dare we ask how old she was?"

"Twenty three. Can't remember her name though." He paused to take another nonchalant swig of his beer. He tried his luck again, "Ok chief, your turn."

Richard was gaping like a fish. "You took a twenty three year old on a date when you were fifteen?" Dwayne nodded. "And she asked you in?" Dwayne shrugged as if to say, what did you expect? Richard was looking at him in awe. "It's like your some sort of wizard."

"You have to spread the love chief." He gave him a jovial wink. "How old were you?" He was getting cheekier, the more he drank.

"None of your business. But it would have been a damn sight sooner if I'd realised that when she invited me in to see her parent's house, she didn't actually want me to see the house."

"Shit." It was said as a consolation.

"Mmmm." It still rankled twenty five years later.

"So you just, went in, had a look at her house and left?"

"Pretty much, I couldn't work out why she went to sit on her bed when we got to her bedroom." Dwayne started sniggering in to his beer. "At least I got past the door Dwayne."

"Yeah, five years later than me."

"It wasn't five…" He realised that he was about to be tricked in to revealing his hand and raised a chastising finger. "I'm not falling for that Dwayne."

It was Fidel's turn. "That's not that bad sir. I high fived Juliet at the end of our first date."

"But you ended up marrying her..."

"So?"

"So, that's the worst story in the world. You owe us another one."

"There isn't another one."

"Come on, you were put off by her dog watching you or something…

"Chief…?"

Richard realised what he'd just done and gave a decisive "no comment," while Dwayne snorted again and Fidel looked perplexed.

"Did that happen to you sir?"

He realised he really had to stop drinking.

"Come on chief."

"Look, it was on the bed with me." He had gone red and was beginning to splutter, he wanted more than anything for Fidel to take the heat off him. "And that's all I'm going to say. Fidel…"

"Honestly Sir there isn't one. Juliet's the only one."

"Come on Fidel, she's not here, you can tell us about the others."

He cleared his throat quietly as he spoke into his beer. "There aren't any others. It's only ever been Juliet."

Dwayne moved forward, a serious look on his face. "Been as in been been?"

Fidel shrugged. "We've been together since we were 20."

Dwayne took a long draught of his beer and lent back again. "Wow." Richard just raised his eyebrows in recognition, the corners of his mouth down turning in acceptance. Fidel looked a little embarrassed.

"I know it's not what people do, and maybe if it hadn't worked out, I would have. But we got married so…"

There was total silence from the table while Richard debated what to say and Dwayne still looked too shell shocked to say anything at all. "I think it's nice." It was Richard who spoke first. "I mean, if I'd met Camille earlier, maybe…" He was running the numbers through his head but given the age difference between them it seemed unlikely, even for him. He gave Fidel a reassuring smile.

"It's a bit old fashioned…" He was clearly embarrassed.

"You're not exactly talking to the world's most prolific womaniser Fidel," he motioned over to Dwayne who seemed finally to have snapped out of his reverie. "My first girlfriend asked if I could warm her feet up for her because they were cold." He paused, embarrassed to be sharing yet another teenage travesty from his youth. He sighed, he didn't really have anything to hide from them anymore. "I went to get her some socks." Fidel smiled his gratitude and bit back a laugh.

Dwayne was chuckling in to his beer. "It wouldn't have worked Chief." His pause seemed to indicate that they join him in disagreement but both Richard and Fidel seemed to have no clue what he was talking about. "Meeting Camille earlier. You weren't her type. There was this one guy I know, used to date her…"

"Surfer? With dreadlocks and a top knot?" Dwayne nodded his ascent. "Yup. Camille told me." Dwayne seemed nonplussed that the end to his story had been stolen. Richard sighed and picked at the label on his beer. "I know we wouldn't have worked. Even now I don't…" He trailed off and took another swig of his own beer.

"You want my advice Chief?" He didn't wait for his agreement. "Just go with it."

"Thank you Dwayne." The acerbic sarcasm was lost on the laid back islander who merely raised his bottle in acknowledgement and went to get another round from the bar.

With the conversation at a lull Richard settled back in his chair to watch. He heard the music change tempo, Dwayne's bottles sitting forgotten on the bar as he pulled Camille protesting to the dance floor, all smiles and slender hips swaying in time to the rhythm. He tried again to understand again what she saw in him. He couldn't begrudge her for wanting to dance, he didn't mind it in theory, just would rather have done it in private, than in front of her mother and his ex-colleagues, all of whom would be watching him closely. So he had declined joining her earlier, instead now enjoying watching her swivel her hips gently in time to the music, arms raised above her head. She danced for him, knowing that he was watching her, becoming more provocative as the song wore on. Richard smiled and shook his head as Dwayne pulled her in to a loose embrace, hips moving in time with hers. Would the man ever behave himself? He was a rogue thought Richard fondly, but a harmless rogue at least where Camille was concerned.

His smile faltered though when he spotted that Humphrey had joined the twosome on the dance floor. Did the man own an iron? He thought to himself. But he remained seated. He trusted her. But as the song wore on his trust faltered as Humphrey replaced Dwayne, his arms snaking around Camille's waist, pulling her far closer than Dwayne ever had. Richard held his breath, waiting for Camille to push him off her, to move away. But she didn't. Her hands remained above her head, hips continued to swivel and Richard suddenly felt sick, a feeling that was compounded when Camille looked up, directly at him, smiled and continued.

Richard wasn't sure if his legs would work anymore, but knew for certain that he had to get some fresh air. The music continued but he was suddenly oblivious to everything around him except the hammering of his heart and the dryness of his throat. The blood that was rushing through him seemed to be congregating in his cheeks, he could feel them blazing. It only highlighted the fact that he needed to leave before anyone saw.

Standing slowly, he muttered something about an empty bottle to Fidel before picking his way through people, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He needed time to be alone. Sneaking a quick look behind him, he was vaguely hoping that Camille had noticed his exit and was following him, but it only confirmed the worst. She didn't care anymore, wasn't watching him, had turned around, facing Humphrey, unbeknown to Richard, gently pushing him away.

He was seething was embarrassment, her disloyalty smarting more than her hand against his face ever could.

His stride lengthened as soon as he exited the bar, hitting the unstifled air of the evening, wishing that it would take him anywhere except her house. But as the crowds thinned and the air became cooler he found himself able to think clearly and his feet changed direction, taking him back to the bar again. There had been something about that smile and the more he thought about it the quicker he found his feet carrying him back towards the music. It hadn't reached her eyes. He realised that she had needed him.

Forgetting his hatred of dancing and doing his best to ignore the bass line that he could now feel pumping through the soles of his shoes he pushed his way through the crowds on the dance floor towards her.