Chapter 3: The Usefulness of Oysters

To Richard, the girl looked like she was gearing up for the reveal of the century. This made him nervous – what if she had gone over the top this time? What if the pendant was utterly hideous? Would he be able to hide his disgust? Would he be able to retrieve the pearl from the setting if it was unsuitable? These were all questions he simply didn't have time to find answers for.

She leaned forward conspiratorially, enough to feel like she was in his personal space and cause him to shift back a fraction, and said, "You're confident she isn't going to come around the corner, right?"

"Yes, she is on Guadeloupe today, I sent her there."

"Ah! To make sure she didn't interrupt us?" She said, nodding enthusiastically.

"No, mostly because she was annoying the hell out of me all day yesterday, the not being interrupted thing is just an added bonus." The girl (she had told him her name, but he hadn't quite caught it and now he was too embarrassed to ask again) frowned, and Richard realised he perhaps shouldn't have been quite so honest. But Camille had been very annoying – trying to convince him to try an activity known as body boarding which she insisted was not the same as surfing even though it sounded exactly the same as surfing.

"Right, well, anyway!" She removed a cloth that had been covering his purchase with a small flourish and, trying to hide his trepidation, Richard leaned in to have a look. The first thing he noted was that it was not garish, thank goodness. In fact, to his senses, it was really rather nice. Simple, but not so simple as to seem boring. If he trusted his judgement in such matters he would refer to it as sophisticated. Richard realised it had been some time since he had last spoken, and he was being watched anxiously.

"You've done a good job," he said honestly. "I'm very pleased with the results."

It was now Richard's turn to be nervous. When he woke up on the morning of Camille's birthday, he realised he hadn't planned how he would hand over her gift. There was no way he was going to make a big deal of it, and he certainly didn't want witnesses, but he also wanted to try and convey that it was meant to be something special. But not in the manner that would force her to pretend she liked it even if she hated or was horrified by the idea of him choosing to give her a pearl in this way. Being largely inexperienced at giving gifts to women, he had no idea if such a thing was even possible. It was far too late to seek any advice on the matter as well.

Luckily, Richard had had the foresight to request the pendant was not presented in any sort of box that could be mistaken for a ring box and the jeweller had obliged him by providing a larger, flatter box for the pendant and its chain. At least that was something he didn't need to worry about. He secreted this into an inside pocket of his jacket and mentally resolved not to spend the day fiddling with it like some nervous man intending to propose. Though he did check it was there about six times before he left the bungalow.

As he sat behind his desk, he knew giving her the present at the station was not going to be an option. Camille had opted to come into work, something about turning 34 hardly being a big deal. Somewhat to his annoyance though people spent all day dropping by to wish her a happy birthday, many bringing flowers, cakes or chocolates until the station started resembling a twee gift shop rather than a place of serious police work. It took all of his self-control not to comment, but the massive bunch of balloons somebody brought in finally pushed him over the edge and led to the sort of rant he had being trying to avoid. Camille, to his surprise, took the entire thing in her stride.

"I can tell you've been holding that in most of today," she said mildly at the end of his tirade. "I'm quite impressed you made it so long." She then gathered up as many presents as she could and informed him she would leave a little early and go drop them off at her Mother's. Richard was grateful it hadn't resulted in a full blown argument between the two of them, because that would probably have led to an atmosphere that was not conducive to gift giving.

Of course this meant Camille was now gone for the day and quite possibly the next time he would see her was at the small party in her honour this evening. And he still hadn't decided how to give her the bloody pendant.

Richard decided it needed to be before the party. This was for several well thought out and logical reasons. Firstly, if he judged she didn't like it, then it would not be entirely out of character for him to excuse himself quite early on in the proceedings. Then he could simply come in to work the next day and pretend like nothing had ever happened – a technique that had served him well in the past. Secondly, he worried that if he gave it to her at the end of the evening it might give the wrong impression – like he was expecting something in return. Finally, and most importantly, he knew if he didn't force himself to do it soon he never would.

Richard resolved to go to Camille's place and walk her to her Mother's bar. Surely the 15 minute journey would present some ideal opportunity?

Camille was a little surprised to open her door and find Richard standing there, and immediately she could think of only one explanation for his presence, "Oh no! You are coming to the party, I don't care what excuse you have!" He just gave her a confused look. "I assumed you were here to tell me you weren't coming this evening?"

"Oh!" He cried, giving a nervous little laugh. "No, no, not at all. Um, just thought, you know, I'd walk you over."

"Right," she replied, pleasantly surprised. She hadn't expected such a courteous act at all. Perhaps he was trying to make up for the ranting earlier. Camille had been reasonably surprised by her own lack of anger at it – but then she had noted him making an effort not to comment since the very first bunch of flowers arrived. "Well I am nearly ready." He gave a short nod and Camille popped back into the house to get her bag and check her make up one last time, leaving the door open. He remained on the doorstep though, shifting nervously from foot to foot and making her wonder if there was more going on here than she thought. The behaviour was quite cute though, really.

"Ok, let's go!" She said happily, stepping out onto the porch with him. For a moment she really thought he was going to offer to take her arm or something, like out of a Jane Austen novel, but that did not occur.

They walked a little awkwardly in silence for some time before Camille said conversationally, "Maman probably will try to get you to drink whatever cocktail she has invented this year in honour of my birthday!"

It didn't surprise her in the slightest when he grimaced in response, "Well perhaps it will have lime in it and I'll have a valid excuse. Or kiwi, I'm allergic to kiwi." He paused thoughtfully and then added, "Could be a whole range of things I'm allergic too…"

"I will know if you are lying," Camille said, mock stern. He cleared his throat and didn't look at her, clearly aware that it was true.

"Um…" He began, before falling silent. Camille waited for him to continue but he chose not to.

"I swear the cocktails get more alcoholic ever year," she continued. "I think it is an attempt to get me drunk enough to agree to blind dates outside of the Erzulie festival."

He glanced at her sideways, "But it hasn't worked yet?"

"No," she said, with a smile. "I could drink most men under the table."

"Really?"

"Really, but you are welcome to challenge me to see if it's true," She offered suggestively, causing him to blush a little. He didn't respond so she continued, "Hopefully next year I'll avoid the Erzulie blind date as well!"

"Good!" He said, a little forcefully. It filled her with hope, as the real reason she hoped she wouldn't have to go on the stupid blind date was that she'd have a date with a man she chose herself. "Umm…"

Once again he trailed off, and this time Camille decided to prompt him, "Yes?"

"Nothing."

She held in a sigh of frustration and instead tried to hunt around for a topic of conversation they both enjoyed. Her marine biology was entirely exhausted now so she tried to dredge up some other interesting fact.

"Do you know about Gruinard?" Richard asked suddenly.

"Gru what?"

"Gruinard, small Scottish island sometimes called Anthrax Island?" He explained. It didn't really help.

"Um, no, I haven't…"

"Oh, the British Government used it to test potential biological warfare during World War II. They tethered a load of sheep there and then set of bombs filled with anthrax, killing them all. It proved far too effective and remained uninhabitable for years," he rambled off. Camille couldn't believe her ears – it was her birthday, and he was talking about killing sheep with anthrax. How on earth did he manage to go from a gesture as sweet as turning up to walk her to her party to talking about killing sheep with anthrax?

"Right, that is, um, interesting," she managed to say politely. Of course, what she actually meant was horrific.

"Isn't it!" He said brightly, not realising she didn't mean it and seemingly pleased. Another pause, and he began again, "Um, Camille, I, um…"

"You what?"

"Nothing." Camille sincerely doubted it was, in fact, nothing. She really wished he would spit it out, because until he did she would harbour vague dreams of him intending to ask her out to dinner or something. The reality was probably him wanting to tell her some fact about sarin. "It's just that, well, I…" He started again.

"Yes?" She said, probably a little too eager.

"Oh, it doesn't matter," he said, as they came up to the patio outside of her Mother's bar. He looked downright dejected and Camille couldn't let the moment pass. She came to a complete stop, and turned to face him, giving him a firm and expectant stare. "Uh, are we not going in?"

"Not until you spit out whatever it is you have been trying to say all the way here!" He looked surprised she had picked up on that, Camille would have thought he would have learnt by now she was good at reading people. Except when her own insecurities got in the way.

"Right," he said, glancing around as if he was checking for witnesses. They were a little early and, thankfully, there weren't too many people around – certainly nobody they knew. Hopefully her Mother would stay ensconced behind the bar for the moment. "Well, it's just…." She continued to look at him and he finally finished, in a rush, "I got you a birthday present!"

Oh! Well, that sort of made sense, he must have been nervous that she wouldn't like it. Camille resolved to pretend she loved it even if it turned out to be a copy of Anthony Trollope's complete works. When he made no further move to actually give her the gift she said, "Perhaps you can give it to me to inside."

That had the desired effect, "No, um, I'll, you know, give it to you now."

He pulled a box from his inside pocket that definitely didn't contain a book, unless he had saved it onto a USB or something. She took it, excitement causing butterflies in her stomach, and opened it. Camille couldn't believe her eyes, "Is this…?"

"Yes!" He said quickly. "It's the same one we found. I had it, you know…"

He had had the pearl set in a pendant. A beautiful one, in a style Camille was certain she recognised and certainly loved. For once, Camille was speechless. The effort, the expense he went to - Camille knew he had taken her little rant to heart. This was his grand romantic gesture – his way of saying she was a special person. There wasn't any other way to interpret the actions. She stepped towards him, moving to kiss him on the cheek whilst she tried to think of something to say. She heard the hitch in his breath when she got close to him, and for some reason his nervousness made her feel braver. Instead of his cheek, she took the chance to press her lips briefly to his, quickly pulling back a little to gage his reaction. He caught hold of her gaze for a moment and then to Camille's surprise and delight moved in to kiss her again.

She responded eagerly, perhaps a little too eagerly, and there were a few awkward moments before they managed to set a pace somewhere between her enthusiastic one and his more nervous one that they were both comfortable with. She placed one hand behind his neck as the other still gripped the box containing her gift. Richard didn't seem entirely sure what to do with his own hands, at first gently trailing fingers down one of her arms, then touching her face and stroking her hair. Camille didn't really care as long as he kept kissing her, kept touching her.

Eventually, though, they did have to break for air. An annoying voice in her head that sounded very much like her mother was also reminding Camille that she was supposed to be going to her birthday party, not making out like a teenager on the patio. Then, to her horror, she realised that the voice wasn't in her head, her Mother actually was lecturing her. Richard had frozen, clearly terrified of Catherine, but Camille could tell her mother wasn't actually irate – she was just not letting the opportunity to tease them pass. Giving Richard's shoulder a reassuring little squeeze, she made a largely useless attempt to pat her hair back into place before turning to face her mother.

"I don't care what gift he gave you, though I assume it must be a good one to deserve that response," her Mother was saying, a single eyebrow raised. Camille thought she could sense Richard attempting to will the ground to swallow him up.

"Yes, it was, do you want to see," Camille said handing over the box. Her Mother examined the contents keenly. Camille had, of course, told her the story of the pearl and clearly Catherine was able to surmise the full significance of the gift.

"Well, I don't think I can quite let you get away with missing the party entirely, but I think I might let you sneak off a little early…" Catherine said with a knowing smile. Camille didn't need to look at him to know how much Richard would be blushing right now. To add to his humiliation, Catherine shot a wink at him.

"Maybe I should go…" Richard began, but Camille turned around sharply and didn't let him finish that thought.

"There is no way you are letting me go in there and face an evening of teasing alone! Not if you ever want to repeat our recent activities."

"Ok," he said meekly, and followed her inside. It was nice to know he could follow instructions, because Camille had a lot of things planned for them…

A/N: Yay, another story finished. Maybe I'll write a part 4 somebody about their first date, I don't know yet.