Sheelagh wasn't quite certain what on earth had happened in the last few weeks.

Really, if she thought about it, her confusion stretched all the way back to her bizarre estrangement with Sam. That had never made sense in her mind but she'd accepted the abrupt reconciliation because her life had been lacking something fundamental in the meantime. She wouldn't be able to explain why but it was true nonetheless. Perhaps it was simply that they'd been through so much together in the last year or so that she couldn't imagine her life without Sam's presence in it. Maybe if the rest of the dominoes hadn't fallen quite so quickly she would've had a chance to probe, to work out why Sam had backed away from her so purposefully like that. However, everything else had gone pear-shaped and she hadn't been able to summon the courage to ask. The last thing she could cope with right now was another misunderstanding with the one person keeping her going.

It had been her demotion, first off.

Even now, she still smarted at the injustice of that. She knew she'd done nothing operationally wrong and that Superintendent Okaro's ultimatum had been nothing more than office politics carried out on the orders of the Borough Commander. That didn't diminish her anger and hurt, however. She'd been a good sergeant at Sun Hill. Sure, she'd been stupid with Des but she could say with a degree of certainty that she hadn't let it impinge too much on her duties. Yes, she'd suffered a lot but she'd still come into work every day; she'd still been a good officer.

Faced with the choice, she couldn't be chained to a desk. It wasn't her, it wasn't the reason she'd joined the police force. So, surely, the right thing to do was elect to leave Sun Hill? After all, it had brought her so much heartache that a transfer to another station within London could be the perfect solution. Except she couldn't imagine it.

Her life had been rocked by everything that had happened since she'd arrived at this station. The only grounding force had been Samantha Nixon and she valued her friendship more than she could say. Sure, leaving Sun Hill would give her a fresh start but she didn't want one of those without Sam. She needed her, as strange as that sounded. She'd rather take a demotion and the accompanying humiliation that entailed than lose Sam's daily presence and support. Wasn't that why Sam had stayed when she'd missed out on the permanent DI job? Sheelagh couldn't help but think of the parallel and that convinced her she was doing the right thing. If she couldn't leave then she had to stay – it was as simple as that.

The other problem that had developed recently had been Connor and that one she didn't have a clue how to deal with or even explain. She hadn't raised her kids to be homophobic. Even if it was something explicitly condemned by the Catholic Church, she believed wholeheartedly in leaving people be to live their lives. That Connor had somehow forgotten that alarmed her. It meant that her failures as a mother were worse than she'd thought and she didn't know how to begin to rectify that.

She'd tried talking to him but to no avail. He didn't want to explain what had come over him but Lance's assertions that Connor might be battling his sexuality were absurd as far as she was concerned – that was as likely as it happening to her. She knew her boy and she knew that he wasn't gay, though she was still at a loss to explain his behaviour. Given his combative attitude following his first arrest for the graffiti, maybe it was as simple as misdirected teenage rebellion. All the same, that didn't get anywhere close to excusing it. He was in court in a few weeks charged with GBH and she had no clue what they were going to do about it. Patrick didn't even know yet; she didn't know how to have that conversation and Connor seemed monumentally disinclined. In fact, he'd almost taken permanent root in her house to avoid going back there. That baffled her, especially because of how hostile he was being towards her and her friends while he was staying with her. There were many things she wished she understood but it was hard when he wouldn't talk to her.

Speaking of not talking, when Sam had offered up the opportunity to mention Connor's arrest in relation to the graffiti she'd said nothing. She'd felt ashamed then and she felt positively mortified now he'd been charged with something far more serious. How she was to share any of that with Sam, she wasn't sure and, besides, Sam had far important things on her mind with this rapist. Sheelagh had seen her at the hospital with the Norwegian victim and all she'd wanted to do was remind her she was doing all she could as often as it took for it to sink in. She knew Sam took cases like this to heart but the last thing they needed was another Pat Kitson scenario – back then she'd been fortunate enough to be rescued in time but with this rapist anything could happen. It struck Sheelagh cold when she thought about what might come of this investigation if Sam wasn't ultra-careful, although she could hardly say that to her face.

A young woman was missing tonight and Sam was tearing her hair out about it. Despite only having seen her for a few minutes, Sheelagh had got that impression of her mental state and she didn't see any reason to distrust her hypothesis. After all, within Sun Hill she was maybe the only person who could decipher DS Nixon with a single look and she'd seen her at the building site earlier. Guilt – stupid guilt – was playing on her mind and if Amy Grogan didn't turn up safe and well then she'd torture herself forever, just as Sheelagh knew she did with the memory of Cass Rickman.

In the locker room, Sheelagh changed quickly, intending to go find Sam before she left the nick, whether she was wanted or not. She felt sure that she could persuade her to leave and get a little rest where no one else could. However, as she walked towards the back staircase she was caught by a familiar voice from the doorway of the Inspector's Office.

'I feel like I've walked into the Twilight Zone.'

Spinning on her heel, Sheelagh came face-to-face with Gina Gold, looking very tanned and rested from her African adventure. 'Nice to see you back, Ma'am.'

'Never mind that,' Gina said briskly. 'Get in here.'

Sheelagh knew better than to argue and she consoled herself with the fact that Samantha would probably have to be dragged out of the station tonight anyway. A few minutes wouldn't make a blind bit of difference and the expression on Gina's face suggested a chat was the least she could do. Sitting down opposite her friend, Sheelagh watched as she poured two large measures and nudged one over to her.

'I thought you weren't back till tomorrow,' Sheelagh said, inclining her glass as a gesture of thanks.

'Wanted to get up to speed, more fool me.' Gina sipped her whisky and gradually relaxed. 'I don't suppose you know why Gabriel and Cameron were knocking seven bells out of each other, do you?'

She shook her head. 'I'm afraid not.'

'What about the rest of it?' Gina persisted.

'Can you be a bit more specific?' Sheelagh asked. 'A lot's happened since you went away.'

'Don't I know it?' retorted Gina. 'Well, let's start with you. Adam left me a message about the demotion – what the hell happened?'

'It was the Rastafarian drink-driving case,' she answered after a moment. 'Everything went wrong and I was offered a choice. I chose the demotion.'

'Why?' Gina queried simply. 'You could've started afresh elsewhere.'

'Sun Hill's my home,' she replied. 'I couldn't leave.'

For a few moments it looked like Gina didn't have a response for that. Then she reclined back into her chair and said, 'The last I saw of Samantha, she said she'd made it up with you. Is that right?'

Smiling softly, she said, 'She turned up on my doorstep after all the Cavanaugh stuff and apologised.'

'Is that all?' Gina questioned. 'Didn't she explain?'

'No,' Sheelagh admitted. 'She didn't volunteer and I didn't push it. She'd been through a lot.'

Gina frowned and swished her whisky around in its glass. 'What, and nothing since?'

'It's been hectic,' she answered with a shrug. 'You heard about Dennis Weaver?'

'I did,' said Gina slowly. 'Samantha was in the thick of it, as usual.'

'Not out of choice for once,' Sheelagh replied. 'She saved Phil's life and convinced everyone else she was fine but it shook her up. I got her from the hospital, took her home.' Recollecting that night, she swallowed. 'I think she might've been ready to explain what had happened – why she'd pushed me away like that – but Abigail came home and... I don't suppose it matters.'

Gina was looking at her curiously over her glass. 'Doesn't it?'

'We've both got a lot to deal with right now,' she said after a moment. 'Sam's the senior officer on the serial rapist investigation so she's busy with that. Her old university professor's here and they're having a few differences of opinion from what I can gather. She's putting herself under a lot of pressure, especially with a girl abducted this afternoon. That's where I was going – to make sure she goes home and gets a bit of rest.'

'She doesn't deserve you,' Gina said then she tilted her head to the side. 'You said 'both'. Is it the demotion, are you having trouble getting used to it?'

'I've barely had time to think about it,' she said honestly. 'No, you'll hear soon enough. My son – my eldest, Connor – he's been charged with GBH. He attacked a...' She trailed off and winced. 'I don't know what's gotten into him. He attacked a gay man.'

Gina's chin lifted sharply. 'He what?'

'I know, I know,' she muttered. 'I don't understand it. I haven't raised him that way. But I can't get him to talk to me.'

'Well, he's a lad, isn't it?' Gina returned reasonably. 'What's Sam said about it?'

'I haven't bothered her with it,' Sheelagh said. 'She's got enough on her plate.'

Gina fell silent and Sheelagh recognised the expression on her face as a dangerous one. She didn't really want to discuss this in detail and Inspector Gold was adept at encouraging you to talk when it was the last thing you wanted to do. So she drained her glass as quickly as she could and rose.

'I'd better go,' she said.

'Sorry to drag you in here,' Gina said before she reached the door. 'You were the unlucky one who passed by.'

Sheelagh didn't believe that for a second. Nevertheless, she answered, 'Next time choose a more authoritative source, a sergeant at least.'

Gina also stood up. 'Listen to me. You're a damn good copper, Sheelagh.'

'I don't know about that,' she retorted as she opened the door. 'I didn't notice my son was a violent homophobe, did I?'

It seemed like Gina didn't have a response for that and Sheelagh made her getaway relatively unscathed. She continued on her path upstairs and found Sam and Hugh alone in the incident room evidently having a disagreement. After a brief moment of hesitation, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Hugh looked irritated by her entrance and turned away, apparently to check through some notes but Sheelagh wasn't buying that excuse. However, Sam's face relaxed as she saw her – at least, relaxed a little and that was all Sheelagh could expect.

'Any news?' she asked carefully.

Sam shook her head. 'We're raiding a suspect's house first thing. Manson refuses to go in earlier; it doesn't look like the guy's there.'

Beyond Sam's shoulder Sheelagh spotted Hugh's annoyance. Was he wondering why she was bothering to tell her this, a lowly PC who wasn't even on the investigation team? Although she hadn't had much to do with Dr Wallis since his arrival at Sun Hill, she could say with some certainty that she didn't value him as much as Sam apparently did.

'In the meantime,' Sheelagh said, 'you should rest. Let me drive you home and get some food inside you.'

Sam managed a smile and murmured, 'Okay.'

If the circumstances weren't quite so dire Sheelagh might've been amused by Hugh's double-take. It struck her that he'd probably been trying to persuade Sam to do those very things for some time and here was she, sweeping in and practically telling the formidable DS Nixon what to do.

Hugh cleared his throat. 'We'll pick this up tomorrow then.'

Glancing back to him, Sam nodded. 'I'm sorry for keeping you so late. Night, Hugh.'

With no more than that, she slipped into the corridor. Sheelagh followed her through into CID where she collected her coat and a couple of things from her desk then down the stairs. It was only when they were out in the cool breeze that Sam looked at her again and Sheelagh saw the pain flash in her eyes.

'Come on,' she said gently, taking her arm, 'I'm parked over here.'

She kept Sam steady all the way to the car then let her break away to slot into the passenger seat. Once they were on the road, she cast a few looks sideways and found Sam lost in thought. She knew better than to push her, although she didn't like the self-recrimination on her face. She hated Sam doing this to herself but, then again, Sheelagh had similar impulses. It came from caring too much. If she'd tried to explain to anyone that Samantha Nixon cared for something beyond herself she suspected she'd have difficulty, but it was the truth nonetheless. Sheelagh let her stew for a little while until she pulled up in front of the pizza shop and turned the engine off.

'Come in with me,' she said, leaving no room for argument.

Sam unbuckled her seatbelt and accompanied her without a word. After ordering a large pepperoni to go, they sat on the hard benches side by side and Sheelagh finally broke the silence after five minutes or so of surreptitious glances to her left.

'Gina's back,' she said.

'Survived the spiders then,' Sam murmured with a vague smile.

'She seems happy in herself,' Sheelagh replied. 'Content maybe. It was a little unsettling, if I'm honest. She was full of questions too.'

'Such as?' Sam queried, a little anxiety in her voice.

'Oh, nothing really,' she lied. 'Far be it from me to suggest Inspector Gold's a gossip.'

Although she chuckled, Sam obviously wasn't comfortable. It hadn't slipped Sheelagh's mind that Gina was far more in Sam's confidence than she was. Somehow, what they were keeping from her mattered less than it had in the past but she still wondered. Gina had evidently been confused by the fact she still didn't know what her estrangement with Sam was all about. If she thought about it too much then she'd concede it was fairly bizarre, but they'd get to it eventually, just when things were a little less frayed for both of them.

They didn't speak again until their order was called and Sheelagh collected the box. As they returned to the car, Sam muttered, 'I feel like I'm letting Amy down by going home.'

'You're not,' Sheelagh said firmly. 'People are still out searching for her. You'll be doing the same first thing in the morning but, for now, you've got to look after yourself. And you start by eating,' she added as they reached the car.

'I will,' Sam said. When they settled into their seats she took the pizza box and rested it on her knee, drumming her fingers on the cardboard. 'Do you mind if we –'

'I know somewhere,' Sheelagh interrupted. 'I don't always want to go home either.'

Sam threw her an appreciative look and they set off. It was a spot down by the river that she drove to, somewhere secluded that she couldn't really countenance coming to alone while there was a rapist on the loose. However, bringing Sam here was something else entirely. Together, they were safe.

Switching off the engine, she turned to her. 'I like it down here. Everywhere else along the river's built up or under development but this is...'

'Natural,' Sam murmured when she trailed off. 'You know, I've been here too. A few times anyway.'

'Really?' Sheelagh asked.

'When I needed to think,' answered Sam. Then she threw open the pizza box. 'If you're not careful, I'll eat all this myself.'

Sheelagh smiled and let the subject drop. They ate quietly, staring into the fading light flitting across the water and exchanging the odd glance. It was as though they didn't need to speak and she felt satisfied that Sam was feeling better once they'd had a couple of slices of pizza each and the smell of cheese permeated the car. She reached onto the backseat and grabbed the box of tissues she'd learned to keep there when the boys were small. Taking a few for herself, she handed some more to Sam and earned a warm look for her trouble.

'Take the rest home with you,' Sheelagh said as she started the car again. 'Speaking of which, I want you to promise me something.'

'Do I need a lawyer?' Sam questioned.

'Don't dodge the subject,' warned Sheelagh.

'I won't, I won't,' Sam said. 'Come on, put me out of my misery.'

Sheelagh urged the car back towards the road. 'When you get home I want you to stay put for at least three hours. Try and rest, go to bed. I don't care if you can't sleep but I want you to try.'

'I will,' Sam answered. 'I promise.'

That was good enough. Actually, under the circumstances, it was positively brilliant news and Sheelagh believed her promise. As they drove, Sam's demeanour shifted once more. She became stiff again, stiff and anxious. By the time Sheelagh pulled up in Sam's street she could practically see the tension trickling from her in waves.

'I'll see you tomorrow,' Sam said.

Sheelagh reached over and grasped her arm. 'You know where I am.'

'Where you always are,' replied Sam. She hesitated then stretched to kiss her cheek. 'I don't deserve you.'

'Gina said the same thing,' Sheelagh said. 'You're both wrong.'

Sam didn't answer that, just took the pizza box and left. Sheelagh watched her into the house, acutely aware of her sluggish movements, and only partially satisfied when the light in the living room came on. It struck her then that Abi must be elsewhere and Sam was alone. On that realisation, she wanted to join her in the house but that was impractical on several levels. Sam hadn't asked for her company and Connor would be sullenly trapped in his own room. She owed it to both of them to try and carry on as she would normally, even if she felt chewed up inside at the very idea of normality at the moment.

A lot happened the next day, though Sheelagh heard most of it second-hand from Tony when she was on refs and then from Gina early evening.

Amy Grogan had been found alive and well after a day of panic searching for her. It turned out that the silly girl had decided to take up police resources by framing herself as a rape victim in order to terrify her father. Sheelagh was as incredulous as she knew Sam must be when she heard about it, though she evidently would have other things on her mind.

Their suspect – Alan Kennedy – had been found threatening to jump from a roof. Sheelagh found herself frustrated that she wasn't in the thick of the action, mainly to keep Sam from doing anything drastic, but she knew this was one of the perils of being a PC again. She didn't get the degree of autonomy she had as a sergeant and she hated feeling powerless. Although she continued with her own duties, half her mind was on Sam and the rape investigation throughout the day.

Before Kennedy had drawn attention to himself on that roof, the efforts to locate him had been fruitless. Gina had given her a summary when she'd knocked on her door to ask one of the only people who didn't see her as a racist PC what on earth was going on out there. From what she understood, while Kennedy's guilt was all but guaranteed, they were suffering from a distinct lack of evidence. The only victim that had got a look at her attacker apparently accidentally identified PC Kent as her rapist thanks to some sort of mix-up with PC Young that the entire nick was gossiping about. That left them with an unreliable witness too terrified to go through another identity parade and no physical evidence tying Kennedy to the scene. Gina explained all that plainly – even though she really shouldn't have – and then hurried off to keep an ear on the rooftop situation unfolding.

They got Kennedy before he managed to jump. That was all Sheelagh cared about because she knew it was all Sam would care about. Even so, it was going to be a tough job to convict him.

Sheelagh's shift finished at seven but she wasn't inclined to leave the nick until she'd seen Sam. Perhaps part of it was a reluctance to go home and face her monosyllabic son, but she hoped her motives were more altruistic than that. So she caught up on some paperwork and then got changed when she heard that Kennedy had been arrested. Then she stopped by Gina's office again.

'Come in,' she said when she saw her. When she closed the door she continued, 'They're starting the interview first thing. By the time his brief arrived it'd be too late to get anywhere and it's better Sam comes at it fresh.'

'I'm surprised Manson's letting her lead,' Sheelagh commented.

Gina conceded that with a wry smile. 'I reckon that's more down to the DCI than anything else.'

'Is she still here?' questioned Sheelagh after a moment.

'What do you think?' Gina retorted. 'What about you, are you heading off?'

She shook her head. 'I thought I'd relax with a coffee here instead of at home with Connor playing his music so loud it's bursting my ear drums.'

Though Gina just nodded, there was a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. Sheelagh left the office and went to the canteen, getting a coffee and a chocolate bar from the machine then settling down in the corner with a magazine. She liked it when it was quiet like this, the shutters down and most of the late shift out on patrol. It was such a contrast to the way it was during the day.

The footsteps didn't surprise her. She shut the magazine and finally opened the chocolate bar in front of her. By the time Sam sat down, she was all ready and she only briefly scanned her face to catalogue exactly how exhausted she looked.

'You need to get some sleep,' she warned.

'I will,' Sam answered. 'I just needed to clear my head before I went home. Get a strategy clear.'

Sheelagh didn't press, mindful that if Sam wanted her to know the details she'd tell her. Instead, she pushed the chocolate across the table and rose to get her a coffee from the machine. When she returned she found Sam distractedly watching her with a strange smile that only grew when she handed her the cup. Then she sobered again.

'No ID,' she said suddenly. 'No witnesses, no forensics. All we've got is circumstantial.'

'Talk me through that,' Sheelagh said. She sensed it might help Sam to get her head clear and, since she knew so little of the specifics of the case, she could listen with relative impartiality.

Sam ate another piece of chocolate and washed it down with a gulp of scalding coffee before saying, 'Our guy was at the naval base in the town where Brenda Kellman was attacked. We've identified him via one of his friends as 'Little Al', the man who couldn't perform. The trouble is, there's no evidence linking Kennedy to that attack. We believe he carried it out but Brenda couldn't identify him directly and it wasn't dealt with properly at the time. She was just a tom making a racket,' she added with a sigh. 'No one wanted to listen, not really. The press used her, the police ignored her.'

'You listened,' Sheelagh reminded her.

Sipping her coffee, she took a steadying breath. 'Kennedy used to work in the city, right in the heart of our circle of activity. He was tried and cleared of indecent assault years ago, a precursor to the sort of violence used in the rapes here. There's the falconry connection, the phrase used in several of the rapes links back to that. Kennedy visited Plymouth and Portsmouth for falconry events at the same time two identical rapes took place. He also keeps his hawk in the circle of activity. But there's nothing concrete,' she continued, digging her fingers into the plastic cup. 'A search of his house and the allotment turned up nothing. There's somewhere else he's working from but we can't find it. All we can hope for is a confession and this guy...'

Sheelagh rested a hand on her arm. 'Stop piling the pressure on yourself.'

'Someone needs to,' Sam objected, meeting her eye.

'Why?' Sheelagh pressed. 'Because you're not aware of the stakes? Look, ignore the DI, ignore everyone else. Focus on what you can do and that means going home and getting some rest. The only way you stand a chance of cracking Kennedy is if you're awake and on the ball. Understood?'

'Yes,' Sam murmured then she blinked. 'But if –'

'No,' interrupted Sheelagh firmly. 'One step at a time. Don't think beyond getting into that interview room tomorrow morning and that's an order.'

This time Sam's smile was more easily identifiable. It was the look of gratitude that Sheelagh had seen so many times in the past, though a few weeks ago she doubted whether she'd ever see it again. They finished their coffees in silence then Sam dragged herself to her feet and Sheelagh followed suit.

'You are going home, aren't you?' Sheelagh questioned.

Sam nodded. 'I promise.'

'And you'll eat?'

'I'll eat,' Sam replied.

Sheelagh rubbed her shoulder. 'That's all I ask. I'll see you tomorrow.'

They walked to the front office together, Sam oddly quiet, then separated for Sheelagh to leave and Sam to return upstairs. There was a moment as they hovered by the door when she thought there was something else Sam wanted to say but it disappeared and she merely shot her a grateful look before keying in the code and climbing the staircase with mechanical motions.

As Sheelagh continued to her car she allowed herself to wonder about those things that she'd instructed Sam to ignore. What if Kennedy didn't crack? He was obviously an intelligent guy, smart enough not to leave a shred of forensic evidence and to keep one step ahead of the police this entire time. There was the possibility that Sam would fail tomorrow and what then? Only Sheelagh knew how much she was affected by such things. To everyone else she still had that 'heart of ice' Gina had mentioned so long ago. If they didn't get a confession and this man, obviously guilty as hell, walked then Sam would never forgive herself. Not only that, Sheelagh realised with a start, she'd be in danger. Just like with Pat Kitson; if you put yourself in the way of a dangerous criminal they weren't likely to forget it in a hurry. That was a sobering thought to drive home with.

Next morning Sheelagh, along with most of the nick, was on tenterhooks. Everybody knew how vital the interviews were in the face of no other evidence and the relief was tasked to try and drum up that evidence in the meantime. Unfortunately, Sheelagh was posted to CAD instead. On the one hand she would've liked to be out there helping Sam crack her case but, on the other, she liked the idea of being in the nick in case she needed her. It was peculiar, regulating her life around Samantha Nixon like this, but it didn't feel at all unnatural. Really, it was just what Sam had done for her over the last year with all the Des and Niamh heartache. Repaying the favour felt right somehow.

She was in early and on her way to CAD when she stopped short. Walking towards her, chin dipped low, was Sam, but it was a Sam she hadn't seen before. She was dressed in a lacy black dress, short and low-cut, and elevated by high heels. For a moment Sheelagh didn't know where to look and she was inclined to let her pass by without a word until Sam looked up and caught her.

'I suppose you think I'm mad,' she muttered, halting beside her.

Sheelagh cleared her throat and focused on her face. 'It's one way of forcing his hand.'

'It's the only one I've got,' Sam admitted with a weak smile. 'If it doesn't work...'

'Good luck,' Sheelagh said sincerely. 'I'm in CAD if you need me.'

Sam held her gaze for a few seconds then took a long breath and carried on walking. Although there was really no need, Sheelagh turned around to watch her go. The dress was even more revealing from the back and she wondered what on earth her colleagues were going to say about it – Manson especially. Still thinking about that, she proceeded to CAD a little more slowly than she'd set out a few minutes earlier.

Via the radio she picked up snippets of what was going on outside of the nick and she learned with some interest that a little headway had been made. Yvonne had located Kennedy's old school and from there they were trying to track down his childhood home. Sheelagh lost contact with the unfolding situation after that and she had no clue what was going on in the interview room, except that she would've heard any good news one way or another.

She jumped at the chance to take a non-urgent case up to CID, although she didn't learn much on the way there. She passed the file to Debbie and, seeing her preoccupation, didn't even try to interrogate her. This case was getting to everyone and the hard-nosed DS McAllister was no exception.

However, just as Sheelagh was heading back to the staircase, the door to the incident room creaked open. Thinking it might be Sam, she slowed her step and turned around. However, it wasn't Sam; it was Hugh Wallis. For whatever reason her initial impulse around him was to raise her guard, especially when she realised he was making a beeline for her. He'd obviously stepped outside specifically to talk to her.

Politely, she stopped walking. 'Can I help you?'

'PC Murphy, isn't it?' he queried with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

'That's right,' she said. 'Is there something I can do?'

'No, we've got all the uniform help we need,' he returned.

It was calculated to highlight her inferiority and, finally, she had a logical reason to dislike him beyond Sam's reports of him valuing facts above all else. He might expect her to be cowed by his doctorate and imposing manner but she only allowed herself to be cowed by people she respected and they were precious few these days.

'Right,' she said briskly, 'well, if there's nothing –'

'You have quite an influence on our Samantha, don't you?' he interrupted.

Now she bristled, though she tried not to let him see that. 'Excuse me?'

'Well, it's very rare she takes orders from anybody,' he answered. 'She certainly never took them from me.'

Sheelagh suppressed her satisfaction. 'We're good friends.'

'I can see that.' Leaning forward until she could smell his sour breath, he lowered his voice. 'I think that's half the problem.'

'The problem with what?' she queried, although she wasn't certain she cared what Hugh Wallis thought of anything.

'She's more in tune with emotion than facts these days,' he replied. 'It doesn't help a profiler, or a police officer for that matter.'

'I disagree,' Sheelagh said. 'Sam's greatest strength is her ability to combine facts and emotion. You can have one without the other but it's better if you have both and she does.'

He sneered and crossed his arms. 'If that's the case, why did she feel the need to call me in to help her?'

'To help the investigation,' Sheelagh corrected. 'Not her, personally.'

She knew she'd struck gold by the flicker of anger that crossed his face. Somehow, she enjoyed that too much and edged away, mindful that the investigation they were in the middle of was far more important than Hugh's dented pride. Maybe one day she'd ask Sam what had gone on between the pair of them – because there was obviously something – but, then again, maybe she wouldn't. She wasn't sure she'd feel comfortable about it.

'I should let you get back to your duties, shouldn't I, PC Murphy?' Hugh said after a few seconds.

'Yes,' she agreed, moving away without a backward glance, 'you should.'

When she got back down to CAD she didn't have much time to wonder about that odd conversation, but she had learned that Hugh Wallis had a serious problem about the very notion of her friendship with Sam. What that signified, she wasn't sure, but she was struck by the idea that it was nothing to do with him – or anyone, come to that. The fact that she could persuade Sam to go home and sleep in the middle of a horrible investigation was hardly something to apologise for, even if the only reason Hugh wanted her to offer apologies was sheer jealousy on his part.

She was cocooned from the case for the rest of the day but as soon as she left CAD she learned that Sam was still interviewing Kennedy alongside Manson. With the same thought-process that had kept her in the station last night, she got changed then went to the canteen and brooded over a cup of coffee for a while. She was hungry and she knew she should go home and see Connor but, somehow, she couldn't bring herself to leave until she knew whether Sam had been successful. As a consequence, it got later and later until she was seriously considering staying overnight.

Finally, she heard voices in the corridor outside and went to investigate. What she saw was Manson walking out with Hugh, deep in conversation but neither of them exactly comfortable with the other. It was a professional alliance; probably the only kind that Hugh Wallis thought should take place within the walls of a police station.

Sheelagh watched them out into the front office then stole past the door and up the back staircase. It was quiet up here, very quiet, but she was under no illusions that she'd find Sam either in the incident room or at her desk in CID. In the event, it was the former.

Sam was the only person in there and she looked completely battered, shrouded in shadows and poring over files with just a desk light for company. She didn't even hear the door open and close; she was so focused on her work. She was still wearing the black dress, though she'd pulled a thick coat over it, and seemed like she was bundled up for winter.

Stepping forward, Sheelagh rested her hand on her shoulder. 'You can't stay here all night.'

Anyone else would've jumped out of their skin but not Sam. She tilted her head to the side and pressed it against Sheelagh's arm. Reaching over with her other hand, Sheelagh stroked her hair until Sam took a quivering breath and sat up straight again. Sheelagh only moved away as long as it took to drag a chair over then she placed herself in front of her, their knees touching. Sam looked faintly confused until Sheelagh clasped their hands together then she seemed more herself. It was still a minute or more before she spoke though.

'What are you still doing here?' she questioned finally.

Sheelagh managed a smile. 'I was worried about you not taking care of yourself. Seems as if I had reason, doesn't it?'

'Guilty,' Sam murmured. Then she exhaled heavily. 'He thinks he's invincible. He's had us one step behind all day. It doesn't help that every time I started to get through to him Manson stuck his oar in.'

'Sticking to the facts?' Sheelagh suggested, squeezing her fingers.

Glancing up, Sam met her eye. 'Never mind that we don't have any evidence to confront him with anyway. I don't know how he expects me to get a confession if I don't get into his head. But I can't because he's –'

'Calm down,' interrupted Sheelagh. 'Stick to the facts.'

That earned her a wry chuckle before Sam replied, 'Something Jonathan Fox neglected to tell us was that he'd represented Kennedy on his indecent assault charge, actually got him off. That put us on the back foot from the start and we never really caught up. The only useful information we got from Jonathan was that the trial had been delayed by his mother's illness. His mother and his obsession with falcons – that's all we've had to work with. I was trying to talk to him like a human being, not a suspect. Maybe that was the wrong call.' Her brow creased as she continued, 'I think Manson thought I was enjoying it, that I wanted to make idle chit-chat about birds with a violent rapist. Kennedy makes me sick, Sheelagh; physically sick.'

'You don't have to tell me that,' Sheelagh instructed. Detaching one of her hands, she lifted it up and massaged Sam's shoulder. 'What else?'

Sam closed her eyes briefly then went on, 'His mother was a prostitute, so it turned out. She ran a brothel, he had a difficult childhood. That was my way in, but Manson wouldn't listen. I tried telling him that sometimes it matters why, not just who, but he was having none of it.' When Sheelagh let out a snort she questioned, 'What?'

'Facts and emotion combined,' she answered softly. 'Just an argument I was having earlier. Go on.'

Blinking away her bemusement, Sam shrugged. 'There's not much more to tell. We got onto the subject of his mother not having time for him but the clock ran down and we had to give him his eight hour break. We can restart in the morning but we won't have long and if we've got nothing to confront him with then it's useless. Hugh brought all this back from the house,' she added, gesturing to the evidence bags scattered around the room. 'I need to check it out and hope there's something we can use. But we're not getting him on forensics. I've got an hour to break him in the morning and I don't think I can do it. When that animal's back out on the street it's gonna be my fault.'

Sheelagh knew whatever she said wouldn't be adequate. She completely understood why Sam felt this way; it was one of the things that made her an exceptional copper and something the likes of Manson and Hugh couldn't comprehend. The thirst to know had unmasked Pat Kitson as the serial killer and it wasn't just a result on the balance sheet; it mattered far more than that to this woman who needed to understand everything before she could rest.

'Okay, listen,' Sheelagh said after a couple of moments of silence, 'have you got a change of clothes?'

Slowly, Sam nodded. 'Why?'

'Because you're going to get a shower while I go and get you a burger or fish and chips or whatever you want to eat at this time of night,' she answered. 'When I get back you can sit quietly and eat it.'

Sam swallowed. 'I thought you'd tell me to go home and sleep.'

'I think that'd be pushing my luck,' Sheelagh retorted. 'I'll settle for you eating something and freshening up. With Abi staying elsewhere, you don't have to go home if you don't want to, although I'd still recommend it.'

'How did you know Abi wasn't at home?' asked Sam, tilting her head to the side.

'I am a copper, if you recall,' she said. 'I thought the uniform generally gave it away.'

Sam's brow was creased. 'You're amazing, you know that?'

Waving that away, Sheelagh questioned, 'What do you fancy to eat? And don't say pizza again. Try and vary the food groups a little.'

'Chinese?' Sam suggested hopefully.

Sheelagh smiled and rubbed her shoulder. 'Sweet and sour?'

'How did you...' Trailing off, Sam shook her head. 'Never mind. That'd be great, thank you.'

'Unless you're clean and changed by the time I get back here you're not having any of it,' Sheelagh warned as she stood up.

'Duly noted,' replied Sam.

Sheelagh left her there in the incident room, relieved to have a purpose again after hours of feeling at a loss. The closest Chinese takeaway that she trusted was a ten minute walk and the fresh air cleared her mind. She was struck by how much safer the streets felt knowing that the rapist was locked up in the cells – a few days ago she wouldn't have dared wander alone like this – but that was probably something Sam was berating herself over right this minute.

She only realised how hungry she was when the smells of the takeaway washed over her and then their order couldn't come quickly enough. When she got back to the station, she commandeered plates and cutlery from the canteen before returning to the incident room. Sam was sat exactly where Sheelagh had left her but she'd changed into more familiar clothing and her hair was damp.

Looking up, she managed a tired smile. 'That smells gorgeous.'

Sheelagh unpacked the bag and laid out the cartons on one of the spare desks. Sam shuffled her chair across eagerly and within a few minutes they were both eating quietly. It could've been any normal evening they'd spent together, if it wasn't for the unusual scenery and the spectre downstairs.

'You think the 'why' is connected to his mother,' Sheelagh said when her plate was clear.

Sam shrugged. 'I may be wrong.'

'Trust your instincts,' Sheelagh replied. 'They usually see you right.'

'Do they?' Sam questioned then sighed. 'I wish you were right about that. You know, I want to...understand and I can't. Anything,' she added, sniffing and pressing the back of her hand to her eyes.

Frowning, Sheelagh asked, 'What do you mean?'

'Nothing,' Sam murmured unconvincingly. Her hand dropped and she drew in a deep breath. 'Look at the time, Sheelagh. You're on shift in the morning, you need to get some rest.'

'I'm fine,' she answered.

'No,' insisted Sam, 'go home. I'm sure Connor'll be wondering where you are.'

It was measured and it was deliberate. Connor's misdemeanours hadn't been mentioned between them and Sam was using that as a gentle stick to prod her into leaving rather than opening it up as an avenue of conversation. They'd have to mention it at some point but this wasn't that moment. Whether it was that Sam needed to be left to her own devices or whether she was truly anxious about Sheelagh's fatigue, it was clear she wanted her to leave. Sheelagh was inclined to blame the more altruistic motives, seeing a familiar softness in her eyes.

Standing, she said, 'Let me clear this mess up and I'll get out of your hair.'

'I'll do it,' Sam replied firmly. 'It might help me think.'

Sheelagh just nodded, taking all this in the way intended and not as a slight. She had no doubt that she'd done Sam good by staying around tonight and she knew it was appreciated, just the way Sam looked up at her was evidence of that. On impulse, Sheelagh leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. When she drew back Sam seemed to have relaxed a little, though she was still gazing at her with a strange expression on her face.

'I'll see you tomorrow,' Sheelagh told her. 'Please look after yourself.'

'I will,' Sam promised. 'I will.'

At least she'd eaten, Sheelagh consoled herself as she headed for the door again. Glancing back, she found Sam's eyes closed, as if she was trying to mentally prepare herself for the lengthy night ahead. Perhaps she was, although Sheelagh wondered if there was more to it. Even so, there was no sense in probing anything tonight; they all had enough on their plates.

It was only when she got into work the next morning that Sheelagh remembered today's community event at The Lord Banbury. In the afternoon the nick was throwing a summer party and all of the relief who could be spared were expected to attend. It hadn't been something Sheelagh was looking forward to exactly. In fact, she'd been hoping to wriggle out of it in some way. Perhaps as the day went on she'd come up with an excuse but, really, her mind was more on the rapist interview that she knew was going on at the other end of the station. Tasked to assist on the front desk for the morning, she could do little else apart from wonder how Sam was dealing with Kennedy now time was running out.

All of a sudden, the door to the corridor burst open and Gina strode in, looking far more animated than Sheelagh knew she generally allowed herself to.

'She did it,' she said. 'She only went and did it.'

Sheelagh jumped up from her chair. 'He confessed?'

'Right in the nick of time,' Gina answered. 'Honestly, I've never seen someone twist their way into a suspect's head like that. She was phenomenal, Sheelagh. I was watching from behind the glass and she started from nothing. It was a hunch, that's all, and she ran with it and drove him to the edge. She made him think she was on his side, that he could trust her. God knows how she did it.'

As she absorbed that, Sheelagh knew she was grinning like an idiot. 'I knew she could do it. Was it his mum – was that why?'

'Yep,' Gina confirmed, 'she was right. He'd been attacked by one of her punters and she was a lousy mother by all accounts. Sam traced it back, worked it all out. The DI wouldn't have managed it, I tell you that.'

'I believe you,' Sheelagh replied. 'Where is she now?'

'Charging him,' Gina said then she glanced around. 'Marilyn can cope on her own for a bit, go on.'

'Are you sure, Ma'am?' she queried.

Gina snorted and opened the door for her. 'Take advantage of my good mood while it lasts.'

Sheelagh didn't need telling twice. She slipped past her into the corridor and hurried down to custody as fast as she could. Pushing through the final set of double doors, she found Sam walking straight towards her, head down and exhaustion plainly showing on the little of her face visible.

After the briefest hesitation, Sheelagh plunged forward and Sam must've sensed her presence because her chin lifted automatically. She didn't have chance to speak before Sheelagh gathered her in her arms.

'Congratulations,' she whispered into her ear. 'I had faith in you.'

Sam shivered in her grasp. 'Thank you.'

Pulling back, Sheelagh studied her expression. 'Hey, what is it? What's wrong? You got him, darling; you did it.'

'I know,' Sam muttered with an evident effort to clear her face. 'I'm fine.'

'You're not,' Sheelagh returned. Looking along to custody, she led Sam through the double doors and away from the prying eyes of their colleagues. 'What the matter?'

'I just...' Sam pursed her lips then admitted, 'I don't like where I had to go to get the result, Sheelagh. I feel...foul, tainted. I'm not even sure why, I've dealt with cases like this before. I got Pat Kitson, for crying out loud. I don't understand.'

Sheelagh squeezed her hand. 'You've put yourself under a lot of pressure for this. It's only right you'd feel some sort of reaction. Besides which,' she went on carefully, 'there's something else going on, isn't there? Something you're not telling me, the reason you pushed me away before.'

With a tremulous breath, Sam extracted her hand and carried on along the corridor. Then she spun back and asked, 'Are you coming to this party later?'

'I was hoping to avoid it,' she answered. 'Why?'

'Please come,' Sam said. 'I need to get my paperwork sorted but then... I'd like to talk to you. I made a promise to myself and I think it's about time I kept it.'

The uncertainty in Sam's eyes would've melted a harder heart than Sheelagh had. In fact, she felt a slither of anxiety herself as she faced the prospect of learning what had driven Sam to distraction over all these months. She wasn't sure why it made her nervous and she almost wanted to back out of the whole thing, although she couldn't explain why. Then she remembered that Sam had come close to telling her this big secret several times and she'd always pulled away. Sheelagh had to caution against that happening now, otherwise the opportunity might not come round again.

'Sure,' she said with an attempt at ease. 'I'm sure you can make it bearable for me.'

'I wouldn't bet on that,' Sam replied.

That cryptic comment was the last Sheelagh was getting right now. Sam shot her a weak smile then turned and walked away slowly. Sheelagh watched her around the corner then shook herself and got herself back to the front office.

That's where she was when Hugh Wallis thudded down the staircase, coat on and bag at his side. Sheelagh expected him to barge straight out of the front doors but, seeing her on the desk, he diverted and planted his elbows right in front of her. His demeanour might've been combative but Sheelagh didn't completely understand why so she kept her own manner polite.

'I hear congratulations are in order,' she said.

'Oh, it wasn't anything I did,' he retorted. 'Sam had it all settled before I got back with the forensic evidence.'

Sheelagh repressed her smirk. 'Well, she's a good copper.'

'She doesn't need anybody, does she?' he questioned coolly.

'I beg to differ,' Sheelagh replied.

Sneering, he muttered, 'You think you're the exception to the rule, hmm? You think she needs you? You'll learn. When things get rough she bails out, even when you think she cares. That's the nature of the beast.'

'Nature?' she repeated. 'That sounds more emotive than factual to me.'

He snorted then headed for the door. 'Goodbye, PC Murphy. Good luck.'

Whatever his problem was, Sheelagh was only relieved that she wasn't going to have to see his face around the nick anymore. He might be Sam's old friend but she just didn't like him. When the door slammed back into place, her grin grew. What had started out as a terrible day was getting better by the minute.

Gina popped her head around the door to ask whether, due to staff shortages, Sheelagh could hang on till Marilyn had finished her lunch before she went to The Lord Banbury. She readily agreed, half-wanting to rush there and half-eager to stay away for reasons she couldn't put into words. Most of the station decamped, including a large chunk of uniform, and she stood there tapping her pen on the desk and wondering what the rest of the day was going to bring.

Marilyn's main grievance when she returned from lunch was that she couldn't get to the party herself. Under the circumstances, Sheelagh thought it best to vacate the building quickly to get away from her displeasure. It was only a twenty minute walk to the pub and it was a lovely day. She found herself almost full of the joys of spring as she walked, which was surreal considering that her son was due in court for GBH in the near future and her life had become unrecognisable in the last year. There was something else at play that she couldn't quite put her finger on but, then, she didn't suppose it mattered as long as it was keeping her spirits up.

She was turning onto the final stretch towards The Lord Banbury when a noise ripped through the air. An explosion undoubtedly and, instinctively, Sheelagh broke into a run. Somehow, she knew it was from the pub and when it came into view black smoke was streaming out of the shattered windows.

'Sam...' she murmured.

Her feet had turned into lead. Familiar faces were forcing their way out of the pub but she couldn't see Sam amongst them and she felt dizzy from the smoke. Then a hand caught on her arm.

'Sheelagh – what the hell happened?' Gina demanded.

'I don't know, I've only just...' Finally, she was able to move again, mainly thanks to Gina dragging her along. 'Half the nick's in there!'

'Fire brigade are on their way,' Gina said. 'Let's get the walking wounded out of here.'

Nodding, Sheelagh broke away and moved through the clump of her colleagues gathering in the beer garden, checking them for serious injuries with a practiced eye but really looking beyond them for someone else.

She reached the end of the line and felt her heart hammering in her chest when a flash of blonde hair across to the right prompted her to pick up speed again. Sam spun around and Sheelagh barely had time to register her surprise before she enveloped her in a hug and squeezed until neither of them could breathe.

'I thought I'd lost you,' she said.

'I'm fine,' Sam replied, her voice thick. 'I got thrown about a bit, that's all.'

Sheelagh drew back, reminded of a similar moment just a few hours earlier. It felt surreal that now there were sirens going off around them and people were yelling, though she could hardly hear them. She was focused on assessing Sam's face, making sure she wasn't hurt. The only external sign of injury was a cut lip and Sheelagh pressed her thumb to it to stem the flow of blood.

Clearing her throat, Sam muttered, 'Honestly, I'm fine.'

'You keep getting yourself into scrapes,' Sheelagh said. Moving her hand up to her cheek, she continued, 'You might have concussion, you should get checked out.'

For a few seconds, Sam stared at her then shouting somewhere in the distance jolted her away. She clutched her elbows and said, 'I haven't got concussion. Look, I need to coordinate. Perhaps you could help with the casualties, some people'll need patching up.'

Sheelagh recognised the dismissal, even if she didn't completely understand it. With a curt nod, Sam hurried past her back towards the pub and Sheelagh stood perfectly still for a few seconds. Then she forced herself to turn around and move towards the ambulances just arriving. PC Dunbar was loaded unconscious into one and Sheelagh busied herself with tending to minor bruises and abrasions on her colleagues. By the time she had a chance to look around again, Sam was nowhere in sight.

Locating Jack, she asked, 'Sir, have you seen DS Nixon?'

He looked at her for longer than was necessary then replied, 'I sent her back to check on CID with all of us tied up here. Thanks for your help, Sheelagh. You've been brilliant, it hasn't gone unnoticed.'

'Never mind that,' she said. 'How's the Super?'

'We don't know,' Jack admitted. 'Inspector Gold's gone to the hospital with him. It looked pretty nasty. Anyway, you get yourself back to the nick and check on Samantha. She's had one hell of a day all told, hasn't she?'

As she walked slowly along the way she'd come not half an hour earlier, Sheelagh pondered that thought. Up all night, dragging a confession out of a serial rapist in the morning and then getting caught in an explosion this afternoon – Sam must be shattered.

When she reached the nick, Sheelagh stopped by the canteen and collected a can of Tango and a bar of Galaxy. Then she climbed the stairs, searching for Sam. She found her in the incident room, packing up evidence bags into boxes and appearing completely absorbed in her task. Only someone intimately acquainted with Samantha Nixon would be able to see the slight tremor in her hands and Sheelagh was one such person.

Sighing, she pushed open the door. Sam must've heard her but she didn't look over; in fact, she seemed to pay even more attention to her methodical tidying. Anyone else would've taken the hint but Sheelagh couldn't do that. She approached tentatively and placed the drink and chocolate beside her on the desk.

'I think you need these,' she explained.

Although she didn't look at her, Sam's hand rested on the chocolate and she swallowed. 'Thanks. Is there anymore news from down there?'

'Nothing on the Super yet,' Sheelagh replied. 'PC Dunbar's been taken to hospital as well, I think more as a precaution than anything. Everyone else has a few cuts and bruises – like you.'

Sam managed a weak smile. 'I'm fine.'

'I know,' Sheelagh said. 'I wouldn't have let you out of my sight if you weren't.'

Watching Sam's demeanour, Sheelagh wasn't quite certain what was going on. Then again, she'd had one hell of a day; she was allowed to be a bit unsettled. Even the great Samantha Nixon wasn't immune to that. Still, it felt as though they'd slipped backwards a few weeks to when Sam could hardly look at her and Sheelagh couldn't bear to go through that again.

'I just wanted to make sure you were all right,' she said after a few seconds. 'Don't worry, I'll leave you in peace.'

Finally, Sam lifted her chin and met her eye. The anxiety in her face seemed familiar, something Sheelagh had seen numerous times and had never been able to isolate properly. Then it gave way to something akin to relief and she picked up the chocolate bar.

'Thanks for this,' she said.

'Anytime,' Sheelagh answered. 'You get some sleep at some point, okay?'

Sam nodded then cracked open her can of Tango and looked back to her files. Once more, Sheelagh took the hint and left without a word. She couldn't say she felt better for the conversation but at least they were still talking. That counted for something.

Whether by design or accident, Sam left the nick without Sheelagh catching sight of her again. Everyone was either in shock or gossiping about the fact that the explosion at the pub had been confirmed as a bomb. That the Super was the target was the current theory and talk alternated between that news and concern about his health.

The next morning Sheelagh got to work early with two takeaway coffees. She scanned the car park for Sam's car and, not seeing it, hovered outside the front entrance conspicuously until she caught sight of her walking towards the station with her head bowed. Sam only noticed her when she nearly toppled over her and immediately stepped back a couple of paces.

'What are you doing out here?' she asked.

Sheelagh held out one of the coffees. 'I brought you this.'

'You shouldn't have,' Sam said, though she took it with a small smile.

'Did you sleep?' Sheelagh questioned.

'Like a log,' answered Sam. 'I couldn't have stayed awake for another minute by the time I got home.'

Reaching over, Sheelagh rubbed her arm. 'I hope you weren't too late back.'

Sam sidestepped towards the door. 'I'd better not answer that without legal advice.'

When she slipped into the front office, Sheelagh followed her but Sam was quickly through the second door, throwing a grateful smile over her shoulder and tipping the coffee cup in thanks. Sheelagh made sure not to linger in the front office, although she did ponder Sam's peculiar attitude as she proceeded to the locker room.

Sent out on patrol with Honey, she spent much of the day chasing kids away from a community centre on the Jasmine Allen Estate. On the one hand, she appreciated being out of the nick where the tension about the cause and effects of the bomb were the only topic of conversation but, on the other, she was in the pensive frame of mind where Honey Harman was driving her round the twist.

She was relieved when the shift was over and she got changed as quickly as she could, intent on getting out of the place. However, she stopped short on her way out of the locker room when she caught sight of Gina and Sam, both dressed for home, talking seriously. If she could've slipped past without being seen, she would've, but there was no way around them.

Looking sideways, Gina said in a clipped tone, 'Here she is. You'll come for a drink, won't you, Sheelagh?'

Automatically, she glanced to Sam. With her odd attitude today and yesterday, she almost felt as if she needed permission to go to the pub. Besides, if it was going to be an awkward evening then she'd rather not. But Sam's forehead was creased and she gently inclined her head. There was something going on with Gina and if a drink was what she wanted then the least they could do was oblige.

'Sure,' she replied. 'I've got nothing on.'

Gina smiled faintly and turned to lead them out of the nick. Though Sam avoided her gaze at first, once they were trailing behind Gina on the street, she stepped closer and touched her arm.

'She seemed set on it,' she explained softly. 'Sorry if we hijacked you.'

'You can hijack me into a glass of wine anytime,' Sheelagh replied.

With a chuckle, Sam linked their arms and it was like they were stood in the beer garden of The Lord Banbury again without any peculiarities swirling around them. Sheelagh relaxed as they walked and allowed Gina to buy the first round while she and Sam settled at a corner table.

'It was Gary's first day in CID today,' Sam said after a few moments of silence.

Sheelagh stifled her snort. 'Do you want my apology now or later?'

'SO13 have had him making tea all day,' Sam replied. 'I'm not sure how damage he can do there.'

'Here was thinking you had imagination,' Sheelagh retorted.

Grinning, Sam leaned back in her chair. 'In which case, I'll take the apology now.'

Gina came across with the drinks and unceremoniously pushed two glasses across the table before raising hers to her lips. She took a long gulp then finally sank into her seat. Sheelagh exchanged another look with Sam, perturbed by the expression on Gina's face. However, she was still wary of probing too deeply into the head of an intensely private woman, although sometimes she wished Gina possessed similar qualms about her. Sam was the braver one and she plunged in after a moment of apparent indecision.

'Is the Super all right?' she asked.

Peering at them over her glass, Gina said, 'Oh, he'll be fine. Apart from giving us one hell of a scare and he'd better not do that again.'

'That's good news,' Sheelagh said.

That led quite naturally into a conversation about the bomb which, she noticed, Sam repeatedly steered away from her own presence in the pub and back to the mere facts of the case and the other victims. However, Sheelagh kept her observations to herself and participated when it was appropriate. Gina drank three times as quickly as them, nipping back to the bar before they'd really touched their wine.

Leaning across, Sheelagh whispered, 'Any ideas?'

Sam cleared her throat. 'A few,' she said. 'She stayed at the hospital all night from what I heard.'

Sheelagh absorbed that but before she had chance to respond Gina came back again and looked between them. It was almost as though she had something else on her mind and Sam swiftly started talking about an inconsequential CID case that only half-captured Sheelagh's attention. She was more interested in trying to work out what was going on around the table.

She and Sam finished their drinks almost at the same time and Sheelagh rose to get the next round. She'd already reconciled herself to getting a cab home and it looked like Sam had done the same since she asked for a large glass.

While she was at the bar Sheelagh couldn't help but glance over her shoulder. Gina had engaged Sam in a conversation that didn't seem to her liking and, more than once, Sam's gaze slipped to the bar and caught on Sheelagh until she saw she was watching. Then she flushed and spoke even more vehemently to Gina. Sheelagh was more than intrigued but by the time she returned to the table both of them were suspiciously silent.

'Me and Jonathan have gone our separate ways,' Gina abruptly announced.

Looking sharply to Sam, Sheelagh saw that she was as surprised as she was so that obviously hadn't been what they were discussing. She turned her attention back to Gina and said, 'I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?'

'The job – what else?' retorted Gina. 'You know, for a minute I thought about jacking it all in. Focusing on what was important in life.'

'You couldn't walk away from the job,' Sam said.

'Any more than you could?' Gina shot back.

'Any more than I'd want to,' corrected Sam. 'It's what we do, Gina; it's who we are.'

Gina lifted her glass but halted with it halfway to her lips. 'And that's the right thing, is it?'

'I think so,' Sam said after a moment of hesitation.

'Rubbish,' Gina snapped. 'You don't believe that.'

Sheelagh leaned away out of the conversation, unwilling to get caught in the crossfire but also wondering what on earth was going on between these two. Gina had purposely dragged them here for a drink and she wasn't drunk enough to be deliberately picking a fight with Samantha for no reason. Nor was Sam any less combative, especially odd considering the news Gina had just shared with them. Once more, Sheelagh was confused but kept silent for now.

'Maybe it's for the best then,' Sam suggested finally. 'It is a choice, isn't it? The job's incompatible with any sort of relationship. I knew that before but I realised it when I was in that pub. Think about it, Gina. You haven't got anyone to leave behind, anyone to lose.'

Gina snorted. 'Oh, that's it now, is it?'

'Don't start,' Sam warned.

'Or what?' Gina demanded. 'Come on, Samantha, what are you gonna do, eh?'

As a response, Sam raised her glass and drained half of it in one go. Sheelagh stretched a hand onto her arm in caution but that only seemed to rile her up more. She slammed the glass back down and dug into her pocket, extracting her phone.

'Sheelagh,' she said, her voice barely controlled, 'do you think you could order us a cab? It'll be here by the time we've finished our drinks.'

Although she was both baffled and fascinated, Sheelagh took the proffered phone and stood. She hovered over the table for a few seconds but neither of them spoke again. Gina was studiously staring into her drink while Sam glared at her. On reflection, it was probably better to diffuse the situation any way she could so she shot Sam one more curious look then slipped outside.

Once she'd made the call, she lingered a minute outside in the summer air, watching a couple across the street having a row. As the woman stormed off, she wandered back inside. Whatever had been said in her absence, the air hadn't been cleared exactly but it was far more static than it'd been before.

Sam mustered a smile on seeing her. 'All set?'

She nodded as she returned to her seat. 'Ten minutes, allegedly.'

'Brilliant,' Sam replied. 'Drink up.'

It was a strange silence they descended into, one that Sheelagh really couldn't fathom. Gina threw Sam the odd look, though they weren't angry looks now, more like exasperated ones. That gave Sheelagh pause and she wondered what Sam's comments about relationships signified and why Gina was so irritated about them. For whatever reason, the whole evening had unsettled her, mainly because she didn't understand it. Why had Gina wanted them both at the pub? Why was Sam so set against relationships? Was it an aftershock of the Cavanaugh business? What did Gina seem to be threatening Sam with and why did it anger her so much? Nothing made sense, particularly not the animosity between these two good friends.

'Listen to me a minute,' Gina said suddenly when they stood to leave. Her voice was subdued, pained even, and Sheelagh saw Sam stiffen. 'The bomb had the same effect on me, at least at first. I saw Adam lying in that hospital bed and I wondered if it was worth it. He convinced me it was and he told me...' She let out a deep sigh. 'He told me to take it as a lesson, tell Jonathan I loved him before it was too late. The trouble was, before I managed it, Jonathan jumped the other way. I missed my chance,' she added with a grim smile, 'and I'm paying for it now. Don't make the same mistake.'

Sheelagh glanced to Sam and saw a muscle working in her cheek. It was an affecting speech coming from the taciturn inspector and Sam seemed to recognise that as well as Sheelagh did. After a moment, Sam simply nodded and then indicated they should go. Sparing a sincere smile for Gina, Sheelagh followed Sam out to the front of the pub.

Looking sideways, she questioned, 'Do I want to ask what's going on?'

'Probably not,' Sam muttered.

'I didn't phrase that correctly, did I?' she queried lightly.

Smiling ruefully, Sam met her eye. 'Probably not.'

Sheelagh let out a soft sigh and decided to leave it be. Whatever had gone in there, she didn't necessarily think now was the best time to interrogate Sam about it. Two glasses of wine hadn't exactly cleared her head and she hadn't known how to talk to Sam even before that. Once again, she filed this away in her mind to think about later. In the meantime, she kept an eye out for the taxi.

When it arrived, they both slipped into the back and Sam told the driver their addresses. He headed for Sheelagh's first and they settled down for the journey about as far away from each other as they could be in the confined space.

Perhaps it was the alcohol hitting but the longer the silence lasted the more inclined Sheelagh was to break it. She shot Sam a few curious glances, unable to drag her mind away from that scene in the pub. It was so unlike both Sam and Gina and she was desperate to know what was going on. They got stuck in a bit of a jam off the Canley Road and she couldn't resist any longer.

Glancing over, she asked carefully, 'Did you mean what you said in there?'

Sam's shoulders visibly tightened. 'What do you mean?'

'I've only had two glasses of wine,' Sheelagh replied, 'I'm not drunk enough to be side-tracked. Did you mean it about the job being incompatible with a relationship?'

'Yeah,' Sam said after a moment, 'I did.'

'You didn't always think that,' Sheelagh reminded her. 'I remember when you told me to go have it all. It was impressive advice, even if it did encourage me to carry having an affair with Des.'

The words seemed to trigger something in Sam and she looked across sharply. Sheelagh had seen her on the verge of speech often enough to recognise there was something on the tip of her tongue but, as usual, she swallowed it down.

'You didn't know that?' Sheelagh persisted, determined to get an answer out of her.

'I wondered,' Sam admitted softly.

'Despite all the pain it caused,' Sheelagh went on, watching her steadily, 'I wouldn't take it back, you know. I had those few weeks with Niamh... It was worth it.'

Sam exhaled heavily. Edging as close as their seatbelts would allow, she linked their arms together and, hesitantly, Sheelagh rested her head on her shoulder as Sam pressed a kiss to her temple. It reminded her of those dark days after Niamh where Sam had been the only presence she was aware of, the only person who could make her feel anything at all.

They stayed like that for the rest of the journey then the cab pulled up outside her house and Sheelagh reluctantly disentangled herself. She was about to dig into her bag for her purse but Sam placed a hand on hers.

'My treat,' she said.

Sheelagh held her gaze. 'Thank you.'

Sliding from the cab onto the pavement, she felt cold all of a sudden, even if it was the middle of summer. She closed the door and saw Sam lean back in her seat, noticeably sighing. Sheelagh was powerless to do anything but stand there watching the taxi recede into the distance. It took her a few minutes to force herself into the house and then the thumping of Connor's music startled her back to reality a bit. She didn't know how Declan had bribed him to stay here so long but she really thought she should ask at some point. Not today though.

Her mind revolved on that strange conversation in the pub and the cab ride home for most of the night. For whatever reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that the key to what was going on with Sam was tied up in her little altercation with Gina. However, she was still missing a vital piece of the puzzle, she knew that much. It bothered her that Gina knew what was going on and she didn't but, then, she couldn't very well make a fuss about it. She wasn't sure where that would lead them.

Going into work the next morning, she got changed as usual then was on her way to the briefing room when she caught sight of Sam and Gina walking together. They'd obviously patched things up since Sam patted Gina on the shoulder before departing in the direction of the back staircase. Sheelagh followed the inspector into the briefing room but couldn't discern anything from her face and Gina avoided looking at her for the duration. Maybe that was odd or maybe she was just suffering from some sort of hangover.

Once more, Sheelagh was posted to the front desk. It was happening with alarming frequency but she understood why – unlike some PCs on the relief she had a relatively welcoming demeanour. Since her demotion she felt as though Gina and the sergeants had difficulty placing her. She was too experienced yet without the rank anymore, so they just tried to play to her strengths. It wasn't that she minded it, though she might have earlier in the year when gossip was swirling and she was desperate to be out of the nick.

Seeing Lance upstairs as she was dropping some letters into internal mail piqued her curiosity. It might not have been her place to know everything these days but her inquisitive streak hadn't been snatched away along with her stripes and she quizzed him on why he was confined to the station now when he'd been assigned to the area car with Tony earlier in the briefing.

'The DCI wants me to stay in the nick for my own protection,' Lance answered. 'It looks like the bomb was meant for me and not Superintendent Okaro.'

She stared at him. 'Are you serious? Who'd want to do that?'

'I wanted to tell you but it's difficult,' he said.

'Go on,' she replied with a frown.

'I got these texts,' he explained. 'They told me to wait by the gents, that's where the bomb turned out to be. The DCI's asked me to make a list of everyone I've given my new phone number to.'

'Right...' she said slowly.

He shifted feet. 'Well, so far there's only one name I can't vouch for.'

'Why are you telling me this?' she asked, though she got the horrible feeling she knew.

'It's your son, Sheelagh,' he muttered. 'I think it's Connor.'

For a few moments she stood mute. It didn't compute, what he was telling her. Suggesting that Connor might've been involved in the bomb was ludicrous. Sam had been injured in that blast; she could've been killed. For heaven's sake, Sheelagh could've been in there herself! How could Lance think Connor would put her in danger like that? Unless...unless he really did hate her enough to disregard her safety. Had she misread his pain for something more akin to anger? As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she forced it away and then she couldn't help herself. While every logical cell in her body was telling her to step away from Lance, she found herself laying into him instead.

'What are you suggesting?' she demanded. 'That my son tried to kill you?'

He shifted feet. 'Look, we both know Connor's homophobic. And the texts made it clear it's about my sexuality.'

'Who do you think you are?' she questioned. 'You've decided he's got something to do with it and you're just trying to find anything that'll pin it on him.'

'That's unfair, Sheelagh,' he returned.

Perhaps it was but she couldn't stop herself as she continued, 'First you accuse him of being gay then you were desperate to pin that GBH on him and now this. What is your problem? It's like you've got some sort of campaign going against my son.'

'It's not personal,' he said and she rolled her eyes. 'I'm not like that,' he insisted. 'Look, the DCI's trying to trace the texts, he thinks it's got to be significant.'

Her heart sank but the emotion came out more as anger than anything else. 'You've told the DCI about Connor? Or is that why you're waiting to see him?'

'I wish this wasn't happening as much as you do,' he said.

'Why don't I believe that?' she retorted. 'And what did you give Connor your number for? Do you fancy him or something? Is that what this is all about?'

'I don't need to listen to this,' he warned. 'I could've been killed in that explosion and someone's responsible.'

Before she could respond to that the DCI's door opened and he called, 'Lance?'

He looked grateful to be escaping but she couldn't leave it like that and grabbed his arm before he could move.

'I thought you were a decent person,' she said. 'You disgust me.'

When he disappeared into Jack's office, she stood irresolute for a few seconds. The pull of CID should've been stronger than it was. She knew that Sam was beyond those doors but she couldn't bring herself to seek comfort there and admit what was going on. Perhaps doing that would be some sort of admission of Connor's guilt, an admission that he was in any way responsible for the explosion that could've killed her. Sheelagh still remembered the abject fear that had overtaken her when she'd seen the smoke pouring out of the pub windows. The thought that Sam was injured or worse had struck her like a bullet and the idea that Connor might have been remotely responsible for that hit her in the same way. So, instead of going anywhere near Sam, she slipped back downstairs and tried to concentrate on her work. Her public face wasn't exactly glowing, but she struggled through.

Summoned to the DCI's office an hour later, she was dismayed to find Lance already there and waiting. Straddling the boundary between friendly and professional, Jack informed her that they'd received new information that gave them grounds to search the house. He asked her to be present at the search and, feeling as though everything was slipping away from her, she had no alternative but to agree and follow him the pair of them out of the office.

At the top of the stairs, Jack turned to wait for her. 'Do you want someone to come with us?' he questioned. 'Samantha, perhaps.'

'No,' she said instantly. 'Please, I don't want her involved. Does she know?' she asked.

'Well, you know what it's like around here,' he answered. 'Gossip's hard to stop. You hear it even when you're not listening.'

She mustered a smile and followed him down the stairs. The idea that Sam was fully aware of what was going on and hadn't come to find her cut like a knife, despite the fact that she didn't want her anywhere near this case. Although Sheelagh didn't understand her raging emotions, she put it down to confusion over what was going on with Connor.

The journey to her house passed in silence. She didn't want to talk to Jack or Lance and she was relieved that neither of them tried to start up a conversation. Jack would've been conciliatory and Lance defensive. She needed neither right now. Perverse as it seemed, what she wanted was Sam's reassurance without her actually having to know anything about what was happening. She didn't understand that any more than she did Connor's potential involvement in this whole thing.

While the team ransacked Connor's room she stood in the doorway, attempting to conceal her emotions by trying to get in touch with her son but he wasn't answering the phone. When asked outright if she knew where he was, she had to tell Jack that he was meant to be at work, but she wasn't certain if he was there.

'Found anything?' Jack asked the assembled officers.

'Feel free to dig up the garden,' she put in, trying to distract herself from the reality of what was going on. 'Could do with it.'

He glanced over his shoulder. 'Lance, give me your phone.'

'What are you doing?' she questioned.

Taking the phone, he replied, 'I'm gonna ring the mobile number of the two text messages.'

To her horror, a few seconds after he put the phone to his ear a musical jangling started up across the room. She watched as Lance retrieved the phone and handed it to the DCI, all the while thinking this was either a mistake or a colossal joke.

'No, I don't believe it,' she muttered. 'Somebody must've planted that.'

She barely heard Jack saying they'd need to bring Connor in; her head was all over the place. For all her denials, she was fully aware that there was now no doubt Connor was involved in some way. That meant he'd hurt Sam – hurt her friends – and she couldn't even fathom how to deal with that.

Placing a hand on her arm, Jack suggested, 'Why don't you take Lance's place in the area car with Tony and we'll keep you in the loop?'

'Trying to keep me away from the case?' she queried.

He acknowledged that with a shrug. 'It's for the best.'

Right now, she couldn't argue with him. On balance, Tony Stamp was the best officer to be paired with on a day like this. They sat silently in the car until they got a shout through and then it was just a bust-up at a nearby warehouse.

When they attended two young men were scrapping, one taking much more of a pasting than the other. After they dragged the one in the green overalls away, she was startled to realise it was Connor on the floor. She helped him up, more confused than ever, but still with her motherly instincts concerned about the blood streaming from his nose and lip.

Though she demanded answers, the thug who identified himself as a colleague called Evan Banks claimed they were just messing about.

She rounded on Connor and jabbed his arm. 'Well, what have you got to say about all this?'

'Just leave me alone,' he muttered, making for the exit.

Tony stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. 'Hang on, you're going to have to come with us.' He glanced over and winced. 'Sorry, Sheelagh.'

She could hardly stand it, watching her son arrested for conspiracy to cause an explosion. Connor was incredulous and, as hard as she tried, Sheelagh couldn't see a lie in his face. She'd had plenty of practice weeding out his lies, but this was different. She trusted her boy but, then, she'd trusted Des once, hadn't she? At the moment she didn't know which way was up.

'Well, what about him?' Connor demanded, gesturing towards Banks.

'What about him?' returned Sheelagh.

Connor touched his lip, jittering about all over the place. 'What, are you blind? He just assaulted me for no reason. I want him charged. Look, I know the law,' he added when she stared at him. 'He assaulted me.'

Given that logic, she had to arrest Banks. After reading him his rights, she was forced to call for another car to take them in separately and Tony deliberately kept her away from Connor.

So, despite Jack's best efforts, she was in the heart of the case whether she liked it or not. She hovered in custody while he and Debbie took Connor for interview. Whatever he told them obviously had an effect on the investigation because Debbie came out and ordered uniform to search Evan Banks's address. Sheelagh knew better than to question DS McAllister about what was going on so just had to endure more agony until the search team called in and Jack triumphantly came to retrieve Evan Banks from the cells.

That left Connor alone in the other interview room and Jack hurriedly explained what had happened to bring them to this point. Connor had vehemently denied any involvement in the actual bomb conspiracy but admitted to passing Lance's number to Banks. He blamed for the whole homophobic crusade and had identified the suspect on the CCTV of The Lord Banbury as Evan Banks by the baseball cap he was wearing. Not only that, he'd told them where to find it and they'd also found dynamite along with it. Jack concluded by saying she was welcome to sit with Connor and, almost reluctantly, she went into the room and dismissed the waiting PC.

Sitting down, she barely knew how to begin. With the table between them, this might as well have been a formal interview with a stranger for how connected she felt to him at the moment.

'Is it true?' she asked. 'That you gave that thug Lance's phone number?' When his chin dipped, she insisted, 'Look at me, Connor, I need to know.'

'Yes,' he muttered.

'For God's sake, son, why?' she questioned. 'I mean, never mind that you didn't know about the bomb, but why would you want to target someone who's tried to help you?'

'You wouldn't understand,' he replied.

'Attacking gay men and mixing with homophobic bullies?' she retorted, anger getting the better of her again. 'You're damn right I don't. I thought I raised you better than that,' she went on in a more controlled tone.

'They were my friends, Mum,' he said. 'I was just trying to fit in, that's all. Be the son you wanted me to be.'

She straightened up and frowned at him. 'What?'

'Nothing,' he said, eyes boring into the tabletop. 'Forget it.'

It wasn't that she wanted to; more that she didn't know how to get through to him. While they were sat there in almost identical positions with the anxiety radiating between them, Debbie came in and placed her palms on the tabletop.

'Evan Banks has put his hands up to planting the bomb,' she said.

Sheelagh exhaled in relief. 'I knew it.'

'Looks like you are in the clear,' Debbie added to Connor. 'If I were you, I'd choose your friends a little more carefully,' she added seriously. 'He's a nutter.'

'Thanks,' Sheelagh said as Debbie squeezed her shoulder on the way past. It must be a crazy day if she was getting sympathetic looks from DS McAllister, but she just found herself relieved that she was the officer dealing with this. It could've been so much worse.

Now, though, she had a job to do. She might not understand any of Connor's actions over the last few months, but she owed it to him to get past them. Without this Banks character polluting his mind, perhaps he'd fare a little better. It was going to be tough, especially with his court date looming, but if they tried then surely they could move past this whole mess.

She reached across to touch his arm. 'Connor, let's try and put this behind us now. Move on, yeah?'

'I don't think we can,' he said, rising and turning away from her.

'Why not?' she queried. Standing and approaching him, she said, 'You got in with a bad crowd but that's all over. There's nothing I don't know now.'

'There is just one more thing,' he said after an excruciating pause. He turned back to her and uncertainly met her eye. 'Lance was right. I am gay.'

Gaping at him, she swallowed hard. 'You're joking. This is a joke.'

'No,' he muttered. The truth shone on his face along with a few tears, however much she wished it didn't. 'I'm sorry,' he added tremulously.

She couldn't think. This whole day had overloaded her with information. It was hard to believe that first thing this morning her only thought about Connor had been that he'd somehow been paid off by Declan to stay with her a little longer. In the course of the day she'd pictured him as wronged, guilty of conspiracy to cause an explosion and then as an exonerated bystander. Now, though, he wanted her to accept something entirely different, something she'd ridiculed Lance for even suggesting. It was unthinkable.

Yet it was happening. He stumbled to the table and perched on the edge of it, looking more like her little boy than ever. She wanted to hug him, but she couldn't bring herself to. She was too agitated. So, instead, she paced the small room, feeling more like a caged animal than she had since...since the night Niamh had died.

'Why didn't you say something sooner?' she asked finally.

'Why do you think?' he retorted.

'Worried what your friends might think?' she said. 'What people would say?'

Gazing at her, he wrapped his arms around his stomach. 'It wasn't that.'

'Then what?' she pressed. Suddenly realising how angry she probably looked to her son, she forced herself to stop moving. 'Tell me please.'

'You don't need me to!' he snapped. He slid off the desk and sniffed. 'You don't get it, do you? How could I accept what I am when you won't?'

She felt the accusation keenly. 'Connor,' she said as gently as she could, 'you haven't spoken to me. How could I know?'

'That's not what I mean!' He growled and crossed the room. When he turned back, there was fresh anger on his face, a grievance she recognised but couldn't place. 'Stop pretending, stop acting like I don't know. I'm not an idiot but you've done nothing except treat me as one. What did you expect to happen?'

'Connor, sweetheart...' Sighing, she reached for his hand. 'I can't understand you.'

He pulled away from her and stared at her incredulously. 'Do you really not know what I'm talking about?' he demanded. 'Think, Mum! What am I talking about?' he persisted then his voice lowered a notch. 'Who am I talking about?'

For a minute she just frowned at him. He wasn't making sense, he was rambling. She hated seeing him like this, so confused and angry. Her mother's instinct was to soothe but she knew she couldn't make this go away. She wished she could understand him a little better or at least know what he was talking about.

Who he was talking about...

Suddenly, she felt dizzy. She pressed her hand to her mouth and tried to stop the swirling images inside her head. Closing her eyes didn't help; it just made things worse. The startling idea he'd planted in her brain refused to disappear. It was clawing at the edges of her mind and the more she tried to fight it the clearer it became.

Connor's hand rested on her shoulder. 'Mum?' he said anxiously.

She swallowed and forced her eyes open. Blinking back scorching tears, she murmured, 'Samantha.'

Everything made sense in a way it never had before. It was the missing piece, the thing she'd been trying to grasp on to for what seemed like forever. At the same time, she wanted nothing more than to forget it forever. Everything was jumbled and she couldn't begin to extract one single thought from it all. She was tinkering around, almost trying not to think properly because if she did...

'Mum?' Connor repeated. 'Are you okay? I – I thought you were being a hypocrite, I thought you... But you didn't know, did you?'

Taking a shuddering breath, she questioned, 'What is it you think you know?'

His forehead creased. 'Don't make me say it.'

If he didn't, she wasn't sure she could. Holding her hand against her throat, she muttered, 'Please, Connor. You think that she –'

'It's obvious,' he interrupted.

That physically shook her and she lowered her chin briefly. Then she looked up quickly. 'What else?'

Grimacing, he said, 'I'm sorry.'

'Oh, God...'

Fresh tears filled her eyes and when he reached out, she pulled away. Holding her boy was beyond her at the moment, even if she saw the hurt flash across his face. He thought it was him she was rejecting but the simple truth was that she just couldn't handle this. Pushing past him, she groped for the interview room door and was assaulted by the dazzling lights in the corridor.

She looked towards the custody desk, trying to latch on to something normal. Debbie McAllister was just handing Evan Banks over and Sheelagh somehow managed to approach her with unwavering footsteps.

'Sarge,' she said in a strangled voice she didn't recognise, 'could you bail or release Connor and sit him down out here? I'm going to talk to Inspector Gold, get permission to take him home.'

'Sure,' Debbie answered. 'Sheelagh, are you all right?'

'I'm fine,' she lied.

Turning around, she successfully put one foot in front of the other. Her words about speaking to Gina solidified the closer she got to the inspector's office, though she faltered when she saw Jonathan Fox grinning by the doorway. He eventually disappeared up the stairs and Sheelagh plunged forward, walking straight into Gina's office and slamming the door shut behind her.

Sheelagh?' Gina said carefully.

She crossed the office then spun back, unable to look at her friend. Whatever she'd come in here to say, it was nothing to do with time off, but she couldn't force anything out of her mouth. Yet Gina let her be and that was even worse in some respects. Finally, she shifted her attention to her friend's troubled face and her words came out in a rush.

'Is Samantha in love with me?' she asked.

Gina opened her mouth then hesitated and glanced down briefly. When she raised her eyes again, she almost looked relieved. It was months of treading on eggshells, Sheelagh realised. She couldn't rightly say when she'd first seen a guarded look on Gina's face, but she saw now exactly how much she'd been keeping from her.

'This is what last night was all about, isn't it?' Sheelagh demanded. Then she was overwhelmed by the recollection of resting against Sam's shoulder in the cab and Sam's lips against her skin. More forcefully, she pressed, 'What have you been playing at? Why didn't you tell me?'

'It wasn't my place,' Gina muttered. 'It was down to –'

'Don't talk about her,' interrupted Sheelagh.

Sighing, Gina rose and moved to close the blinds. She turned back and perched on the edge of the desk, more compassionate than anything else. That only made Sheelagh angrier. She couldn't believe she'd spent the last however-long lying to her, not when she'd trusted her both as a friend and a superior officer.

'How long?' she questioned in a quivering voice.

'Ask her,' Gina said simply.

'I can't,' she said. 'I won't.'

Gina pinched the bridge of her nose. 'What happened? Was it my fault, stirring things last night?'

'No,' Sheelagh murmured. She didn't want to go into the details and she deliberately straightened up, trying to look more together than she was. 'It wasn't your fault.'

Accepting that with a shrug, Gina replied, 'Well, I'm not presuming anything.'

The implications of that statement struck her like a hammer blow. Every knowing look Gina had ever directed at her suddenly took on a different meaning. She felt violated – and not just by Gina. Connor knew, somehow, and –

She looked up sharply. 'Who else knows?'

'Does it matter?' Gina retorted.

'Yes,' she insisted.

'If you ask me,' said Gina, 'you're focusing on everything but the real issue.'

'I don't think I did ask you,' she snapped then winced. 'Sorry. I – I need to think.'

Gina slipped off the desk and blocked her path to the door. 'Promise me something.'

'What?' she questioned anxiously.

'When you're done thinking,' Gina answered, 'talk to me before you talk to her.'

Sheelagh blinked. 'Why?'

'Because she's put herself through hell in the last year trying to do the right thing for you and I don't want her hurt any more than she has to be.' Gina paused and then added, deliberately, 'If she has to be.'

The words seeped into her mind. Slowly, she nodded and reached for the door handle. Then she remembered the excuse for coming down here in the first place and she looked back to Gina with difficulty.

'I wanted to ask, Ma'am,' she said tightly, 'whether I could finish early and take Connor home? You've heard he's been cleared of involvement in the – the explosion?'

'I did,' Gina replied. 'You can slip off. Make up the time later in the week.'

She tried to smile her thanks, but it came out more like a grimace. Tugging the door open, she returned to the corridor and felt much the same as she had when she'd stepped out of the interview room earlier. Mindful that Gina was probably watching from the office, she forced herself to head back in the direction of custody. However, she stopped short when she passed through the double doors.

There was a familiar figure hovering at the end of the corridor, gazing towards the prisoner benches. Sheelagh edged closer, afraid of being noticed but desperate to see at the same time.

Sam looked...different. Even from this angle. It was as though Sheelagh was seeing her for the first time and she understood everything Sam had ever been unable to say in that one look.

Connor hadn't said it outright, neither had Gina. But that didn't make it any less accurate. She'd known the truth of it as soon as he forced her to face it. She couldn't believe that she'd avoided it for this long.

In so many little ways, Sam had demonstrated that she loved her. The look on her face now as she looked at Connor was just the final proof. She was scared, she was conflicted. She knew that Connor knew, Sheelagh realised, and she was petrified. What further validation did she need?

Steadying herself with a deep breath, she continued along the corridor. Sam heard her footsteps and half-turned then dipped her head and steeled herself in the way that Sheelagh had become so familiar with. Every instance of this in the past made sense all of a sudden. It was what Gina had said, wasn't it? Sam putting her first and hurting herself in the process. It was blindingly obvious.

Sheelagh couldn't look at her as she passed by. Instead, she made straight for Connor. Her poor boy looked broken and she just had to wrap him in her arms as he stood apprehensively to meet her. He was shaking and she smoothed his hair down, just as she had when he was younger. Strangely, it soothed her, as if rolling back the years could make all this go away.

Withdrawing, she turned them towards where Sam stood. It was as if she recognised how much of an obstacle she looked like because she shrank back into herself. Sheelagh wasn't used to seeing that, nor was she used to seeing the way her lip trembled and her fists clenched at her sides. It was as though she wanted to fight and knew she couldn't. Or, at least, knew she shouldn't.

'Mum?' Connor queried softly.

'Keep walking,' she answered.

Sam slumped against the wall as they passed but Sheelagh kept a firm grip on Connor's shoulders. Her one thought was getting them out of there. She knew if she looked at Sam again, she wouldn't be able to do that so she didn't. She just kept walking.

If she was ever asked to explain what happened that night when she and Connor got home she wouldn't be able to.

The car journey was excruciating. She nearly crashed twice, once into a cyclist at a junction and then because she didn't put the brakes on quickly enough when she pulled into her road. Inside the house, though, everything went a little vague. She remembered Connor making a swift beeline for his room but what she physically did for the rest of the evening was beyond her. She spent a lot of time at the kitchen table and some time trying to sleep. Her thoughts, though, were far more tangible.

She was analysing the last year, thinking of everything that had happened between her and Sam. And she was coming to some fairly startling conclusions.

Connor hadn't said it out loud. He hadn't needed to. He'd said he thought she was a hypocrite and maybe he had good reason for that. Ignorance wasn't an excuse. It wasn't even ignorance; it was wilful avoidance. She'd had plenty of opportunities to acknowledge Sam's feelings, but she just hadn't taken them. And why was that?

She hadn't questioned it, not properly. She realised now that she'd been frightened to. Looking deeper meant acknowledging...this. It was more than friendship. It always had been more than friendship, hadn't it?

Friends supported you, sure, but they didn't plot out their life to match yours. Sam had stayed at Sun Hill because of her. Sheelagh had guessed that then and she knew it for certain now. And, then, Sheelagh had done the same thing, she recognised. What had she said when they'd gone out for dinner after the demotion? That Sam was the only one who understood her, something like that. She'd accepted when she made the decision to stay that she didn't want a fresh start without Sam, and only now did she identify the implications of that.

When she allowed her mind to wander to specifics instead of dwelling on the abstract, she could barely stand it. All it did was reiterate the conclusions she'd already come to but with such intensity that she wanted to close off the avenue and never revisit it again.

Sam looked at her as though there was no one else in the world. It was blindingly obvious; no wonder Connor had spotted it. There was something that happened when Sam gazed at her, something she hadn't accepted before. She'd always known being near Sam made her feel safe and protected but it was so much more than that. She understood now that she'd never felt so loved. That was the emotion she'd struggled to comprehend because even acknowledging it meant a clash between everything she felt and everything she believed in.

Perhaps if it was nothing more than emotional affection, she could deal with it. She could fool herself, dismiss it as an unusually strong friendship and leave it at that. But, she conceded, it was something far beyond that. When she recalled her reaction to Sam's relationship with Cavanaugh, her jealousy made her stomach swirl. It was physical; a physical jealousy and a physical attraction.

The moment that revelation occurred was the moment molten panic set in. Sure, it was one thing to recognise that she saw Sam as something a little more than a friend but this... This meant more than she was prepared to accept. She wanted to blame it all on Sam, but she knew she couldn't. Every little touch, every hug, every kiss on the cheek hadn't been initiated by just one of them. It was as though they'd colluded. The difference was, though, Samantha had been aware of it, hadn't she? Sheelagh felt like she'd made a complete fool of herself, blindly going along with one thing when it was actually something else in disguise.

But, then, Sam had never made her feel stupid. It hadn't been a joke Sheelagh wasn't in on; it was just... It was natural, that was the problem. All of it had felt so natural. She'd wanted Sam with her during labour, hadn't she? She'd called out for her. Then, afterwards, with Niamh they'd been a real little family. Her daughter had seemed to know, even if she hadn't herself. Niamh settled for no one else but them and no one else loved her quite like Sam. There was nothing...perverted in the time they'd shared together, nothing at all. Everything her faith told her collided with her personal experiences of Samantha Nixon and her wavering faith came up short every time. She still loved God, but she felt that He'd abandoned her. Whereas Sam... Sam hadn't and wouldn't.

Things made sense now in a way they hadn't before. Sheelagh could catalogue a hundred moments that were infused with something else, stretching further back than she was comfortable with. Those times when Sam had been close to telling her the truth, she hadn't always been the one to pull back. Sheelagh had done it herself after the Weaver mess, for instance. They'd been sat on the sofa and Sam had been looking at her in the way Sheelagh had become so accustomed to when she'd panicked a little and told her to go shower. It was as though she'd been aware they were scratching at the surface of the truth and she hadn't wanted to face it.

As dawn broke outside the kitchen that morning, she found herself at the table with a cold cup of coffee and a headache.

It didn't matter, any of it. She'd avoided confronting the truth for such a good reason – it could never be. How could she give up on everything she believed in for something so – so against nature? She couldn't. All the same, she couldn't picture her life without Sam in it and she didn't know where they went from here.

'Haven't you slept?' Connor asked suddenly.

She hadn't heard him come in and she looked to the doorway to find him stood anxiously in his dressing gown. That brought her back to earth with a bump. This wasn't just about her; it wasn't even about Samantha. Yesterday, her son had told her he was something she'd just concluded went against nature and their shared faith. What was she supposed to do with that?

He must've read it in her face; he always was an astute boy. Without another word, he turned around and trudged back up the stairs. When his door slammed, she closed her eyes and rested her head in her hands. This was such a mess, the whole thing. She didn't know what to do.

Eventually, she realised she had to go to work. She went through her preparations mechanically, frustrated by her brain flicking back to moments it had no business recalling. For instance, she couldn't help but remember that morning after the Cavanaugh debacle when Sam had sneaked into her room and left her a cup of coffee before cooking her breakfast. Scrambled eggs – the breakfast she associated with their family time. When she thought of it like that it physically hurt, as though she was losing Niamh all over again with the comprehension that things couldn't ever be the same with Sam.

However, thinking of that morning reminded her that some things were still unexplained. It couldn't make a difference knowing but she still felt as if she needed to. She sped up her routine with the aim of getting to work as early as possible.

It was only when she pulled into the car park that she realised she could see Sam around every corner in the nick. It happened with alarming regularity; why wouldn't it happen today? That said, when Sam had made a deliberate effort to avoid her, she'd been pretty good at it, after all. That was one of the things she needed to speak Gina about.

She managed to change without impediment then left the locker room and headed to the inspector's office. When she turned the corner, though, she stopped short.

Sam was stood at the coffee machine, waiting for it to dispense her drink. Even at this distance, Sheelagh could see her anxiety and exhaustion. As she watched, Sam sighed and leaned her head back, staring into the ceiling then dragging herself out of her thoughts when the machine beeped at her. Sheelagh saw every small flicker and motion, completely entranced. She'd never noticed before how captivating Sam was and, as soon as the thought occurred, her body reacted in a way she'd never thought possible. With Patrick, she'd been enamoured; with Des, she'd been infatuated. But the way she felt gazing along the corridor was a combination of both – she felt the love she'd once had for Patrick infused with the physical attraction she'd had towards Des. It was whole; it was complete.

Still unable to move, she couldn't rearrange her expression quickly enough when Gina poked her head out of her office. After looking along to the coffee machine, Gina then spotted her watching. Fortunately, Sam was oblivious. She disappeared up the stairs without so much as a backward glance, fatigue evident in her every step. Sheelagh wanted nothing more than to chase after her and make things better and she knew that showed in her face from the way that Gina sighed as she motioned her into the office.

With the door shut, Sheelagh sank into the offered chair and briefly shut her eyes. When she opened them again, Gina was reclining in her own seat, far too shrewd for this time of the morning.

'What?' Sheelagh asked softly.

'I've seen that look before,' answered Gina. 'More times than I can shake a stick at.'

She tilted her head to the side. 'Really?'

'Oh, yeah,' Gina replied with a chuckle. 'I've seen it all, Sheelagh. Warmth, confusion, jealousy...'

'Cavanaugh,' she said with difficulty.

'And Des,' added Gina, prompting her to look up quickly. 'Sorry, didn't you know?'

'I think I did,' she murmured. Then she swallowed. 'About Cavanaugh... I don't understand, if she –'

'If?' Gina cut in pointedly.

Sheelagh winced. 'Okay, okay. But then I don't know why she...'

'Blowing off steam,' Gina said when she trailed off, 'and going about it in her usual cack-handed way. She bottled it and we all know what happens when Samantha Nixon bottles it. Closes down, doesn't she? Backs off and makes a hash of it. She didn't mean to hurt you, I know that much.'

'I was hurt,' she admitted. 'I didn't understand why it upset me so much, seeing her with him. There was something...off about it all. It was as though she wasn't herself. I didn't recognise her.'

Shrugging, Gina said, 'Neither did I, if I'm honest.'

For a few moments Sheelagh absorbed that. Then she said, quietly, 'I can tell you the exact moment it happened, when she closed herself down. It was something that... Manson knows, doesn't he?' Gina confirmed that with a nod and she wet her lips. 'Who else? Eva? She came to see me before she left with a message for Sam.'

'Mmm,' Gina said, 'and Jack too.'

Sheelagh snorted. 'That explains the kid gloves around the Cavanaugh situation. I wondered about that. So I've been completely stupid, haven't I?'

'Not necessarily,' replied Gina with a seasoned smile. 'She didn't work it out for quite a while herself. If you bury your head in the sand long enough it becomes second nature.'

'No,' Sheelagh returned, 'she tried to tell me so many times and I couldn't hear it.'

'You weren't ready,' Gina said. Then she questioned, 'How do you feel?'

Exhaling heavily, she answered, 'I know it's wrong –'

'I didn't ask what you know,' interrupted Gina gently. 'I asked what you feel.'

She leaned back in her chair and tried to fathom a response that steered away from her uncertainty. After all, she might have privately acknowledged that she did have feelings for Sam, if she admitted that to Gina it would be like admitting...something else. Even if her body hadn't quite recovered from the shock of seeing Sam in the corridor, she still knew that she couldn't succumb to anything like that. How could she talk about this then button it up? She wasn't Sam; she couldn't do that. If she said these words aloud then there was no taking them back.

'You know,' Gina said after a prolonged silence, 'at first, she kept you in the dark because it was best. Well, she thought it was anyway and, to be fair, I agree with her. You had so much on your plate and she was focused on helping. She didn't think past that. Well,' she added with her lips twitching, 'I wouldn't say never.'

Sheelagh tried to control her flush. 'You said at first. What happened after that?'

'She still thought she was doing the right thing but her reasons altered,' Gina explained. 'She said she couldn't put you through it. You, of all people, should know what that means.'

'I know she loves me,' Sheelagh murmured, pressing a hand to her heart. 'I feel it. I think I always have. But I can't... It doesn't...change anything.'

'Doesn't it?' queried Gina.

'No,' she said firmly.

Gina rubbed her neck. 'Then why are you here, hmm? Why were you looking at her just now? You tell me there was nothing in that, go on.'

She couldn't and, more to the point, Gina knew she couldn't. Rising, Sheelagh crossed the office then turned around. So many conversations had gone on here between the three of them in various formations. A pained smile slipped onto her face as she recalled Sam bobbing an umbrella into her drink to cheer her up during pregnancy. Her mind was teeming with little moments like that and she couldn't separate them out from the rest of her relationship with Sam. It struck her then – there was no other relationship with Sam. It was always this and she'd always wanted it this way, even when she hadn't known that she did.

'What she said the other night,' she said slowly, looking back to Gina, 'about relationships being incompatible with the job... She's scared, isn't she? Before the bomb went off in the pub, she wanted to talk to me, she was going to tell me then she panicked. She's scared.'

Gina watched her steadily. 'If none of it matters...'

'It matters.' She attempted to blink away the tears in her eyes, but they slipped down her cheeks anyway. 'I can see how much she's been hurting. She's tried to cope with all this on her own, typical Samantha. I could wring her neck,' she added vehemently.

Chuckling, Gina said, 'I know the feeling.'

Sheelagh couldn't help but smile. Then she sobered and took a long, shuddering breath. 'I can't feel like this, I really can't.'

'Like what?' Gina challenged.

'You're gonna make me say it, aren't you?' Sheelagh whispered.

'I think you need to,' replied Gina.

Massaging her forehead, she murmured, 'I do love her but –'

'Just start with that,' Gina interrupted. She stood and rounded the desk. 'You're being too hard on yourself, like she was. Something like this, you've gotta come round to it in your own time. Think about it.'

Sheelagh nodded then made her way to the door. 'I'm sorry you're stuck in the middle of this.'

'You know what?' retorted Gina. 'I'm not. You two have made me see there's more to this life than the job, helped me take a risk of my own.'

'You and Jonathan,' Sheelagh said quietly. 'You're back together then?'

Gina pulled the door open for her. 'Keep it under your hat.'

'Yes, Ma'am,' she answered, stepping out into the corridor. 'Thank you.'

She walked to the briefing room in something of a daze. Although she hadn't meant to say the words, she should've known that Gina would tease them out of her. All the information she'd received during their conversation was tumbling around her mind, distracting a little from what she'd been forced to admit in there. As she walked, her hand automatically groped for the cross concealed under her uniform.

It was blind fantasy; it could never be anything else. So what if seeing Sam this morning had forced her to accept the fact that she wanted to – to kiss her, just for starters? So what if her talk with Gina had done nothing but remind her how wonderful and infuriating Samantha Nixon was? None of it mattered. It was love but it wasn't the right sort of love. For her or Connor. There was no way around that, was there? The uncertainty her mind insisted on offering up stung deeply. She needed to be sure; she needed to speak with someone who would help her understand all this, help her see where she went next. Gina, for all her insight, didn't have the capacity but Sheelagh had a sudden revelation about who did.

She tried to focus on the briefing, but her head was all over the place. Learning that she was paired with Lance again somehow permeated her brain and she realised with a wince how she'd treated him yesterday when, after all, he'd been partially right about Connor. The flicker of discomfort she spotted on his face when the pairings were announcement was enough to remind her that she had a bridge to mend. None of this was Lance's fault and she owed him an apology.

When the briefing broke up, she stepped out into the corridor and waited. Lance joined her hesitantly and she indicated they should go out on patrol. They maintained a tense silence until they were out of the gates then Sheelagh pulled up as soon as they were around the corner.

Lance shifted in the passenger seat. 'Listen, I don't want any –'

'You were right,' Sheelagh interrupted quickly. 'You were right about Connor. He told me last night that he's gay. I'm sorry,' she added, 'for the way I spoke to you yesterday. It was unforgivable.'

'Not quite,' he replied with a smile. 'I understand you were upset, Sheelagh. But I'm glad he was finally honest with you.'

'I am too,' she said, surprised to find she meant it. 'Can I ask a favour?'

Wary again, he murmured, 'Sure.'

'While we're waiting for a shout can we make a detour?' she asked.

He acquiesced with a shrug and she started the car again. Although she didn't tell him where they were going and he didn't ask, he must've had his suspicions. She parked up a couple of streets away from the church in order to stem his questions – she didn't want a detailed discussion on anything Connor had told her, worried about where it might lead.

Leaving Lance in the car, she took herself round to the church. Father Donnell saw her enter and head straight for the confessional and he settled into the other compartment. It had been so long since she'd been here that she wasn't prepared for how oppressive it felt behind the thick curtain.

She swallowed and began, 'Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been a while since my last confession. I've been going through a difficult time with my husband, as you know.'

'How is that situation?' he questioned.

'Patrick hoped we could sort things out,' she admitted, 'especially after Niamh died, but it's not that simple.'

'Perhaps he just wanted to be there for you,' Father Donnell suggested.

'It was my loss, not his,' she replied. 'Why should we both suffer?'

This was the argument she'd used against the priest's entreaties at the time. Straight after Niamh's death, when he'd visited her at home, he'd been a little insidious about it, implying that some good could come out of the situation. She'd been too shell-shocked at the time to identify it as anything but an attempt at comfort. However, really, the only person who'd offered her true comfort back in January had been Sam. That was telling, wasn't it?

'You still feel your daughter's death was somehow your fault?' Father Donnell queried.

She looked down at her hands. 'I think it's God's way of punishing me.'

Father Donnell sighed. 'God does not seek to punish.'

'Then why do I feel so guilty?' she pressed.

'It's perfectly normal,' he answered. 'To lose a child is enough to test anyone's faith.'

Sheelagh hesitated. 'But how can I move on?'

'God has forgiven you your sins,' he said. 'Now it's time to forgive yourself.'

She was in danger of getting sidetracked. This was the first time in memory that talking about Niamh had been the easier option but then, of course, she felt guilty for using her daughter as a distraction like this.

Steeling herself, she said, 'If that's true, Father, will God forgive my son, Connor?'

'For what?' he asked.

'He's told me he's gay,' she muttered after a few moments.

The silence that settled over them struck Sheelagh cold. It couldn't be good; she knew Father Donnell's silences well enough to spot that. It sent fear scuttling along her spine and she had to talk to combat it.

'My son got involved with some nasty people,' she explained, 'tried to hide who he really was. Mostly from me.'

'Why do you think that was?'' he questioned.

Here was her chance. She'd come here to ask for help on her own behalf as much as Connor's. If she had any backbone at all she'd admit to Father Donnell that it wasn't only Connor's sexuality bothering her. She should admit that she'd found herself having those kinds of feelings for another woman and see what his advice would be. But, even so, she bottled out. Perhaps she wasn't so different from Sam in that respect.

'Oh, something – something stupid, that's all,' she said. 'Connor didn't feel he could talk to his own mother.

'And you feel if you'd been there more, you might've made a difference?' he asked.

'Yes,' she murmured, 'yes, I do. Tell me what to do, Father.'

'It's not up to you,' Father Donnell answered. 'Connor's made his choice.'

'But how can I support him and be a good mother?' she persisted. 'I don't want to let another child down.'

'The Church will always be here for you,' he said. 'To lose one child must've been very hard. To lose two – almost unbearable.'

His words rippled through her and, suddenly, she felt dizzy. Without another word, she pushed her way out of the compartment, the scent of candles catching in her nostrils and making her reel. The only thing she could do was get outside into the fresh air and leave Father Donnell far behind.

What he was saying – what he'd told her – was that there was no place in the Church for either her or Connor. Her head might've warned her of that possibility during her long, sleepless night but she'd hoped Father Donnell might ease her burden, not add to it.

As she trudged back to the car, she couldn't stop thinking. There was no way she could blindly abandon her faith. Her trust in God had taken a battering but it was still there. Perhaps this, like everything else, was retribution. For all Father Donnell's words about God not seeking to punish, the last year had certainly felt like an exercise in torture. There was a contradiction in Father Donnell's philosophy, wasn't there? God didn't punish but he wouldn't accept homosexuality either and the Church punished it. Where was the logic in that?

Lance stepped out of the car to meet her. 'We've got a call, disturbance round the corner.'

'Huh?' Blinking, she tried to recall she was on duty. 'Oh yeah, sorry.'

'Are you okay?' he asked. 'Did you get whatever it was sorted?'

She yanked open the car door. 'Let's just get going, shall we?'

The shout when they arrived turned out to be a particularly rowdy domestic. A man was stood on the lawn claiming that his boyfriend was chucking him out thanks to the woman stood triumphantly on the step beside him and they were throwing black bags of clothes back and forth at each other. Sheelagh rapidly lost her patience, taking the rowdy one to the car and loading him inside.

When they got back to the nick, she noticed that the suspect was walking funny as if he was in pain, in addition to the bruises on his cheek. While Lance questioned him on what had happened to his face, she drifted off a little, toying with the cross around her neck and thinking too much until one sentence brought her back down with a bump.

'You really think they'll be interested in a queer with domestic problems?' Charlie asked.

That struck so close to home that she barely withheld her groan. She had to move around the corner to seek a little respite and her feet carried on walking. Unfortunately, Lance followed her.

'Sheelagh?' he queried. 'Are you all right?'

She spun around, hoping her face was clearer than she suspected it might be. 'Do you think you can persuade him to pursue the domestic violence allegation?'

'I can give it a go,' Lance answered. 'There's not much mileage in the public order offence.'

'Good,' she replied. 'I'll alert CSU.'

Perhaps he knew she was avoiding him but, since it came under the remit of work, he could hardly argue. Climbing the stairs, she tried to focus back on procedural matters, though that was derailed slightly by opening the door to CSU and finding Phil Hunter strangely absent and most of the department empty.

Turning, she hesitated. The natural thing to do now would be to check CID but she knew Sam might be in there and she wasn't sure she was ready for that. Her talk with Father Donnell had muddled her head further and she'd already been exhausted and confused before that. So she equivocated and then the choice was taken out of her hands.

The CID doors opened and Sam strode out onto the landing. She looked preoccupied, as much as Sheelagh had ever seen her, and that was enough to keep her feet planted firmly to the carpet. Coupled with that, the physical yearning she'd experienced earlier while watching Sam at the coffee machine had returned with a vengeance and she felt her mouth go dry. Abruptly, Father Donnell's words were dim in her ears; all she could think about was this combative, hurt woman walking towards her with her head down.

Maybe Sam would've disappeared down the back staircase without noticing her but, all of a sudden, Sheelagh couldn't stomach that scenario. She hadn't looked into Sam's eyes since all this happened and she knew she needed to.

Stepping forward, she cleared her throat. The way Sam's head snapped up almost took her breath away. It was her Samantha, all right; the one battling to stay impassive even while her eyes said so much. Sheelagh searched her face and realised that there was nothing new there; she'd always seen this level of affection in Sam, even when it was masked. This wasn't sinful, surely? It was...love. Sheelagh couldn't understand how she'd denied it for so long.

A dozen emotions flickered across Sam's face, including apprehension and hope. Finally, she settled on guarded and said, 'Hiya, you okay?'

'Looking for Phil,' Sheelagh answered as lightly as she could. 'Don't suppose you've seen him?'

Sam thumbed over her shoulder. 'In there. I don't think he's quite got the hang of covering CSU,' she went on with a half-smile. 'Not high-flying enough for him.'

'Well, I doubt he'll like the case I've got for him,' Sheelagh retorted. Then her heart took over from her head and she added, 'It's a gay domestic violence case.'

Fear flitted over Sam's face and Sheelagh immediately felt bad for pushing her luck. Despite the fact they hadn't discussed it, Sam was fully aware that Connor had been arrested in connection with the bombing. Not only had she seen him in custody, the tormented expression on her face yesterday proved that she was worried about his perceived homophobic tendencies. She'd heard nothing to contradict that; apart from Lance, nobody had. She was frightened of breaking their fragile peace and Sheelagh suddenly wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around her. It was all she could do to restrain herself.

'No,' Sam said after a moment, 'anything with the word 'domestic' in it brings him out in a rash. It's amusing actually.'

Sheelagh saw her attempt at an airy tone and smiled in return. 'I know you're getting on better with him these days, but I still think I'll enjoy it.'

Sam chuckled. 'Go ahead, I'm not completely reformed.

'Good to know,' she replied.

They could go on like this all day, she realised. In truth, she wanted to. They were in their usual bubble, where Father Donnell's words were distant and Sheelagh didn't believe there was anything wrong at all with the way they acted together. How this could be so natural and yet so wrong? If it was wrong; she was back to not knowing anything at all.

Switching feet, Sam said, 'I should probably...'

'Oh, sure, sorry,' Sheelagh said instantly. 'I'll let you get on.'

She was moving past Sam when she felt the urge to reach out, like she had a hundred times before. Now, though, she recognised it as a naked desire to show Sam how much she cared. She'd been doing this instinctively for months; she couldn't think of a time when she hadn't wanted to demonstrate physical affection towards Samantha Nixon. Sure, she was naturally an affectionate person but that didn't explain it all, not by a long shot. She remembered her panic following the bomb blast and how relieved she'd felt when she hugged Sam and – and pressed a thumb to her cut lip. Their relationship was full of little moments like that.

So when her arm stretched out to Sam's shoulder, it was hardly surprising. It overshot slightly, though, catching on her neck and the hair drooped around it. Sheelagh felt Sam's shiver pass through to her own body. The touch might've been completely unintentional, but the effect was completely unmistakable. Sheelagh didn't look back as she carried on towards CID; she didn't dare.

Phil was sat at his desk with what looked suspiciously like a little black book and his phone pressed to his ear. It took her a few moments to get his attention and he seemed to really resent being interrupted. She told him the bare minimum – accidentally missing the thrill of mentioning it was a case between a gay couple – and rushed straight back out onto the landing. Sam was gone, however, and the ripple of disappointment was more evidence that, whatever this was, it wasn't going to disappear overnight.

Going back downstairs in a bit of a daze, she located Lance in the canteen getting a coffee. Ever-thoughtful – and in spite of their recent difficulties – he'd gotten her a tea. She gulped as much down as she could without scalding herself then they headed back towards the yard. She appreciated the inconsequential chatter that Lance was indulging in as they walked through the nick. Right now, she needed a distraction and he was willing to provide it with some random film talk.

'Sheelagh!' Phil called and they both halted. 'Listen, can't you deal with this assault case? All you gotta do is take a statement, speak to lover-boy Michael.'

'Sorry?' she queried.

'Just bring it to me only if you feel it's worth following up, yeah?' he retorted and began walking away.

She followed him. 'I already did that. It's a CSU case now.'

Spinning around, he shook his head. 'No. I don't think so.'

'Why not?' she pressed. 'They've been in a relationship, haven't they? That makes it a domestic.'

'Right, I'm a bloke's bloke, all right?' he shot back. 'This just needs a feminine touch, that's all.'

'Don't make me laugh,' she spat. 'I ought to report you for homophobia.'

He snickered. 'You're one to be lecturing me about homophobia, you and your kid.'

'DS Hunter,' she called angrily as he turned away again.

'Yes, PC Murphy?' he returned. 'Or had you forgotten that?'

She strode up to him, barely aware of the fact he was towering over her as she practically yelled, 'Charlie Hislop's been assaulted by his partner, his complaint needs to be taken as seriously as the next person's or this is one PC who's going to your DI – okay?'

Leaving him there, she stormed past Lance and headed out to the car.

She knew her cheeks were flaming but she couldn't do a thing about it. Phil might not know the full story, but he'd triggered something of a tsunami in her mind with his offhand comment about her homophobia. Although Gina hadn't listed him as one of those in on Sam's little secret, Sheelagh suspected that he was. If he'd come to the conclusion that she was at all homophobic then had that either come to him via Sam or gone back to her? It would further explain her fear and it hurt to recognise that she was petrified of Sheelagh herself. Things were slotting into place now, more of them by the hour.

In the car, Lance wisely kept quiet. Their next shout was a graffiti artist near the park. Lance was eager to chase them, but her energy levels were low and she began unconsciously fiddling with her cross again as he took a picture of the art for transport police to have a look at.

'Sheelagh, what's wrong?' he asked as he stowed his phone away. 'You ain't been yourself since you left church.'

'I just didn't find the answers I was looking for,' she said, trying to rouse herself.

'What about Connor?' he questioned. 'Have you spoken to him about being gay? Did he have any answers?'

She almost rolled her eyes. If it was just about Connor then perhaps she could cope. Whatever Father Donnell inferred, she couldn't stop loving her son. Her anxiety about his future wasn't as acute as her anxiety over her own. That sounded selfish, even in the privacy of her own mind. She didn't mean it that way – all she meant was that something she could learn to accept in Connor might not be something she could accept in herself. After all, the Church had been part of her life for as long as she could remember. To turn away from that was...unthinkable.

'Lance,' she muttered, 'do you mind if we try and think about something else?'

Fortunately, Dean called through before he could probe further asking if they'd had any luck, so she reported they'd lost the suspects and were returning to the nick. Once again, Lance wisely left her to her muddled thoughts.

Either he'd got a bee in his bonnet about this graffiti artist or she was just exceptionally disinterested. Back at the nick, they got a hit on the tag and an address for the boy suspected of painting it. Reluctantly, she roused herself and they left the station again to try and pick him up.

The house wasn't in the best area of Canley and that impression wasn't helped by a woman she assumed was the young lad's mother chucking a bag of rubbish at their feet before they could even knock on the door. She knew it was about her son and asked what he'd done now. Once they'd explained, the mother was even more distasteful and Sheelagh was thankful that she didn't suggest they wait in the house. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck in a room with that sorry excuse for a mother so she and Lance took root in the car instead, on the off chance that the boy would return.

'If you're not gonna talk to me,' Lance said finally, 'you're gonna have to talk to somebody. Look, it's no one's fault Connor's gay. Not Phil Hunter's, not Mrs Reynolds's, not mine.'

'I didn't say it was,' she answered.

'Have you even tried talking to Connor?' he asked.

'I can't,' she said shortly.

'Why not?' Lance pressed. 'He's gay, not from Mars.'

'I know,' she murmured, 'and I'm trying. I went this morning looking for guidance and they practically told me my son wasn't welcome in the Catholic religion.'

Realisation dawned on his face. 'That's what happened.'

'I wish I'd never set foot in that confessional,' she admitted.

'What did you expect?' Lance queried. 'To be told everything's going to be all right? That they'd marry him off to some nice guy, future son-in-law?'

She grimaced. 'A little common sense perhaps, a bit of understanding. I mean, it is the twenty-first century.'

'Not for the Church, it isn't,' Lance retorted. 'You should've known better. Look, you need to talk to Connor.'

'I can't,' she repeated, a little more forcefully. 'This isn't just about him.'

Snorting, Lance said, 'That's where you're wrong, Sheelagh. It's not about you or the Church –'

'You don't know what you're talking about,' she interrupted.

'You think so?' he queried derisively. 'You don't think I've got an idea what Connor's going through?'

'Well, you don't know what I'm going through,' she snapped.

He crossed his arms. 'You're unbelievable.'

'Don't pretend to know anything about me,' she returned. Then her voice cracked as she added, 'I don't know myself.'

With a frown, he studied her face and his anger drained away. 'Is there something else bothering you?'

'You could say that,' she murmured. Hesitantly, she turned her eyes to him. 'How well do you know DS Nixon?'

'I don't,' he admitted, 'not really. To be honest, she's a bit scary.'

Sheelagh couldn't help but smile slightly. 'She'd enjoy hearing you say that.'

Lance's forehead creased further then his mouth fell open. 'Oh, my God. Are you two –'

'No,' she interrupted, feeling her cheeks grow hot again. 'I only found out yesterday... I mean, I only realised that she – that I... Oh, I'm making a mess of this,' she continued, grimacing at the look on his face.

'You're not,' he managed finally. 'I'm sorry, I'm just... I wasn't expecting that.'

She let out a soft laugh. 'Neither was I. That's one of the reasons Connor was too afraid to tell me the truth. He thought I was hiding. I wasn't,' she went on. 'I was just being really stupid. I didn't want to see it. And because of that... Connor thought I'd hate him.'

It seemed Lance needed a minute to absorb all that. Sheelagh knew the feeling. Inclining her head away, she looked out onto the street and tried to clear her mind. Unfortunately, it kept flicking back to that moment on the landing when her fingers had brushed against Sam's smooth skin and she couldn't help how the memory made her feel. She was blaming her exhaustion for the fact her barriers were completely depleted. If she had her way right this minute then she'd crawl into Sam's arms and never leave them. Even in her shattered state, the intensity of that wish startled her.

'I can understand why you're so upset,' Lance said after a few minutes of silence. 'It must be hard to come to terms with everything all at once.'

'And then I feel selfish,' she said, still looking out of the side window. 'My son's going through all this and I'm too busy thinking about myself to help him.'

'What happened when you two left the station last night?' he asked.

Shrugging, she said, 'Nothing. I was so wrapped up in myself, I couldn't talk to him. I don't know what he thinks.'

'Probably that you're going through something really difficult,' Lance said reasonably. 'I'm sure he doesn't want to make it any harder for you.'

'It's not his job to protect me,' she pointed out. 'It's meant to be the other way round. That's why I went to church, trying to find something I could say to him that might... I don't know how to deal with this, Lance; I really don't.' Looking at him, she asked carefully, 'How do you do it? How do you reconcile your faith with...'

When she trailed off, he smiled wryly. 'With my sexuality? It wasn't easy, not at first. People say it's a test, don't they? God's way of tempting you into sin. I don't see it that way – I can't.'

'Why not?' she questioned.

'I believe that God made me who I am,' he answered. 'It's not a test, it's a wasteful use of energy. He does everything for a reason and He loves me because He made me. It doesn't feel sinful, Sheelagh, the way I feel about Mark. I love him; he makes me a better person. When we're together it's –'

'Perfect,' she concluded in a whisper.

She didn't realise she was crying until a tear dribbled along her lip. Fishing for a tissue, she avoided Lance's gaze and, decently, he didn't press. In fact, she didn't think she could handle much more of this conversation. Deliberately, she tucked the tissue back into her pocket and started the engine.

'He's not coming back,' she said. 'Let's go for a drive round, see if we can spot him.'

Lance reached for his seatbelt. 'Sure.'

What followed was a strange hour of driving around Canley trying to politely ignore each other. Sheelagh had enough food for thought, chewing on his words about God and wondering if they fit into the pattern she'd identified with Father Donnell's words earlier. The sense of the Church punishing while God forgave struck deep and she was reminded frequently how natural and God-given her affection for Sam felt. In comparison to her guilty feelings over Des, this was positively angelic. There was nothing in her love for this infuriating, passionate, funny woman that made her feel remotely sinful, beyond what her instincts about the Church's attitude told her to feel. Was it really that simple? Was it all just a question of whose lens you were seeing things through?

She was dangerously preoccupied until they received another shout. It was the graffiti artist again and, this time, they caught him in the act, though he gave his best shot to Lance's shins before he got a proper hold of him. They took him into the nick and were just booking him into custody when Phil appeared, looking more satisfied with himself than Sheelagh liked.

'Sheelagh,' he said, 'I thought you'd wanna know. Charlie's dropped the allegation against his boyfriend.'

'Really?' she queried.

'Yeah, that's the only way it was ever going,' he answered with a smirk.

'He admitted it wasn't Michael?' she pressed.

'Well, not in so many words but that's where the wise money is.'

'Are you sure?' Lance questioned. 'I mean, making a false allegation?'

'Yeah,' Phil returned. 'I've spoken to their friend, right? She says she's never seen Michael raise a hand to him. He's got no record, nothing to show he's violent.'

Lance exchanged a glance with Sheelagh before he said, 'I'd have put money on him being genuine.'

Phil stepped away. 'Yeah, well, the next time you two get a hunch maybe you should take it straight to the DI. Then I wouldn't be asking for a day of my life back. As if this place isn't full enough of drama queens as it is,' he added before turning and sliding down the corridor like the contagious disease he was.

There was a lengthy pause then Lance muttered, 'I feel let down.'

'By who?' Sheelagh asked. 'Charlie or Phil? He'll have dealt with that like a bull in a china shop. It's not Charlie's fault,' she went on firmly, 'but there's nothing we can do.'

'And you just accept that?' Lance challenged. 'Isn't that sort of like burying your head in the sand all over again?'

It looked as though he regretted the words the second they were out of his mouth. Sheelagh held up a hand to stem any apologies and went to call Mrs Reynolds to come down to the station to sit in on her son's interview. Since she vowed to set off immediately, Sheelagh had no qualms about taking the opportunity to get some fresh air out front while she waited.

She wandered over to Cass's memorial tree. It looked forlorn on its own but maybe it was right it stood apart from any other memorial to fallen officers. She deserved something of her own. The day of the dedication, she recalled suddenly, was one of the first occasions Sam had nearly told her 'something'. They'd been interrupted, by Rob Thatcher unless she was misremembering. Sheelagh could easily summon up the guilt on Sam's face as she spoke about Cass and then the look on her face when Sheelagh had spoken about things changing. In hindsight, that whole conversation took on a different tinge and, though she knew she should feel violated by Sam hiding the truth from her, she couldn't force that emotion to the surface. She couldn't be angry with her for being unable to approach something Sheelagh had avoided herself for months on end.

'Sheelagh?'

Startled, she glanced sideways to find Sam standing awkwardly beside her, hands stuffed into her pockets. How long she'd been there wasn't something Sheelagh was too sure about, but she suspected she looked as hesitant as Sam did at the moment.

Nevertheless, she tried to sound upbeat as she asked, 'Are you on your way out?'

Sam slowly shook her head. 'I saw you from upstairs, you looked a little... Are you okay?'

'Course,' she answered automatically then she shrugged at Sam's sceptical expression. 'I was just thinking, that's all.'

'About Cass?' Sam questioned carefully.

'Sort of,' she said. 'I wish I'd have met her.'

A ghost of a smile flitted across Sam's face. 'You'd have got on, you know. Gobby as anything, heart of gold... You could see the gap in the relief for months afterwards.'

'I wish you'd stop blaming yourself,' said Sheelagh. She couldn't help but reach out and rub her arm. 'We've had this conversation, but I know how stubborn you are.'

'Don't know what you're talking about,' Sam replied.

Seeing a shadow cross her features, Sheelagh gently queried, 'What is it?'

'Just...' Sam trailed off and Sheelagh continued massaging her upper arm. It seemed to give her the strength to continue, 'Cass, Juliet, what happened to Mickey... You shouldn't come to work one morning and risk not going home at night or something horrific happening in the meantime. It's the chance we take but...'

'It makes you scared,' Sheelagh concluded for her. 'It makes you feel like the job's incompatible with everything else. You have to make a choice.'

Sam pressed her lips together tightly and stepped away a few inches. Sheelagh could almost see the cogs working; see her fighting her instincts. How many times had she watched this over the last year or so? Until the Cavanaugh debacle, Sam had invariably put her first and fought down her own feelings. No one seeing that could doubt that Samantha Nixon had changed; except, of course, Samantha Nixon herself. She probably thought of this love as something to be battled in case she hurt her. And, perhaps as much, in case she got hurt.

'Sometimes there isn't a choice,' Sam said finally. 'Sometimes it's made for you.'

'And sometimes it isn't,' Sheelagh answered. 'I remember the night Juliet died. I told June I wished it'd been me instead.'

Raising her chin sharply, Sam said, 'You never told me that.'

'It was how I was feeling,' she admitted. 'It was selfish, I know that, but I felt like everything was too much. You got me through that,' she went on, meeting her eye. 'You got me through that; you got me through everything that happened afterwards.'

'That's what friends do,' replied Sam with difficulty.

Sheelagh almost sighed. 'Is it?'

She posed the question not really expecting an answer. Truthfully, she didn't want one. Getting embroiled in a discussion like this when she was exhausted and still uncertain wasn't wise. Not uncertain of her own feelings, she realised that with sudden clarity. She didn't care what Father Donnell said, she didn't even care about her own misgivings. All she knew was that Sam had been the only person by her side in the last year, not to mention the only person she'd wanted there. Given the chance to get back with Patrick, she'd turned him down flat. She recalled the look on Sam's face when she dropped that bombshell – though she hadn't been able to place any emotion beyond surprise at the time, she realised now that she'd spotted hope. And was that so alien a concept? What had Eva told her to say to Sam when she'd dropped that letter by? That life was too short. Sheelagh knew that better than most; so did Sam. It was a reason to clutch at happiness, not avoid facing it.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before a voice burst in, 'Oi, you said it was urgent, getting me down here like this.'

Sam grimaced and murmured, 'I really hope she's one of yours.'

'All heart, aren't you, DS Nixon?' Sheelagh shot back. She held her gaze for one more delicious moment before squeezing her hand and moving past towards the woman steamrolling across the car park. 'Mrs Reynolds, thanks for being so quick. Shall we go inside?'

As they walked down to the interview room, she endeavoured to focus her mind back on the job but without much luck. Fresh thoughts were swirling around her head, partly about her own situation but partly about Connor and what he must be going through right now. All Mrs Reynolds' whining could do nothing to distract her from that track. Perhaps they were both terrible mothers, but Sheelagh had always tried to show Connor he was loved – although she'd failed hopelessly at that in the last few months.

When they pulled the graffiti artist from the cells for interview a ruckus kicked off in custody between him and his mother. So much for being an appropriate adult, Sheelagh thought as she bundled the boy away and had something of a go at him for being a little monster. She couldn't help herself. It was cathartic as much as anything and it was at that point she realised she needed to step away.

'Lance,' she said, catching his arm, 'can you handle the interview alone?'

'I'd rather not,' he answered. 'Why?'

'I need to find Connor,' she explained. 'I'm made such a hash of this, I need to talk to him before he does something drastic. He's already fallen in with a bad crowd, if I –'

Holding up a hand, he said, 'Fine. I understand. Go.'

She thanked him with a sincere smile then hurried off to the locker room. It was the best place to make a private call at this time of day, though she was frustrated when it went through to voicemail. The first time, she didn't know what to say so she hung up. Then she tried the home phone but that rang out. She was tempted to call Patrick but that might backfire – they still hadn't broken the news of Connor's arrest and upcoming court appearance. It had been better to hide it all, just another thing Connor was ashamed of. No, he wouldn't have gone to Patrick or contacted his brother or sister. If she was going to find him, she'd need a carrot; something to entice him into meeting her that told him she loved him deeply, no matter what.

In a flash, an idea came to her and she followed through before she could talk herself out of it. She left a message for Connor with a location to meet then decided to get on with a little paperwork before the end of her shift.

An hour later there was still no word from her son and she went to get changed. Somehow, she managed to act normally around the colleagues she encountered in there, even while her mind was galloping with all the information it had absorbed in the last twenty-four hours. By rights, she should be asleep on her feet, but she'd received a jolt of energy from the prospect of losing both her son and the woman that she – the woman that she loved. That wasn't going to happen, not if she had anything to do with it.

Stood in the locker room chatting away aimlessly, she caught sight of Lance in the corridor. Quickly, she said her goodbyes and rushed out to join him.

'Lance?' she called.

'What are you still doing here?' he asked as he turned around.

'I haven't been able to get in touch with Connor,' she answered. 'Look, I'm really sorry for the way I've been today.'

'You're forgiven,' he said with a smile.

She hesitated. 'Forgiven enough to ask a favour?' When he just shrugged, she continued, 'What are you doing tonight?'

'Seeing Mark,' he replied.

'Even better, you can both come along.'

'Come along where?' he questioned. 'Look, Sheelagh, it's between you and Connor, I can't get involved.'

'I know, I know, I just need some support on the sidelines.' Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, she steered him along the corridor. 'Hear me out...'

She liked Mark; he was definitely a good match for Lance. He had no compunction about taking her arm when they got out of the car and leading her authoritatively towards the club entrance, with Lance there at her other elbow. At least she felt like she was walking into an uncertain situation in good company. Even if she was still completely unsure about it all.

'Now, Sheelagh, are you sure you wanna do this?' Mark asked.

'Big mistakes need grand gestures,' she said, though she was fidgeting as he stepped towards the doors.

'Okay, then,' he said. 'Have you ever actually been to a gay club before?'

'No,' she admitted with a glance at Lance, 'but there's a first time for everything.'

It certainly was an experience, walking into all that noise and colour. That said, the only real difference between this and a straight club was the fact that the men were kissing each other, completely without shame. She wasn't sure how that made her feel quite yet but, she realised, she needed to deal with that as much as she needed to deal with her desire to kiss Sam and see what that felt like.

Unfortunately, she quickly began to feel out of place. Connor still hadn't called and she was wondering if she'd left it too long. She deserved all he could throw at her but if this didn't work... She couldn't talk to him if she couldn't find him and she instinctively knew he wasn't at home. It worried her where he might be, what trouble he might be getting into; but it upset her more that she'd let him believe he was alone in all this.

'Why don't you come and have a dance?' Lance asked, startling her with a touch to the shoulder.

'Do you think Connor's going to show?' she returned and both he and Mark were silent. 'It was a really stupid idea,' she continued, grabbing her jacket, 'as if he's going to meet me here of all places.'

'Well, look, stay and have a drink at least,' Mark suggested.

'No, I won't,' she answered. 'Thanks, but I just wanna go home.'

'We'll come with you,' Lance said.

She shook her head. 'You two stay here and enjoy yourselves.' Kissing Lance's cheek, she added, 'I'll see you later.'

As she headed for the exit, she felt supremely stupid. Lance and Mark had just been too delicate to admit how ridiculous she was being, but she didn't know where she went from here. Her brain was fogged with exhaustion, images of Connor and Sam swimming behind her eyes in rotation. All she could do was fall into a cab and get home to an empty house to deal with it then.

Then someone grabbed her arm. 'Mum.'

Undeniably relieved, she smiled at him. 'I thought you weren't going to show.'

'I just got your message,' Connor said. 'Are you okay?'

'Not really,' she admitted. 'I feel like I've made such a mess of things.'

With the music thudding around them, the best they could do was communicate with their eyes. Fortunately, she'd had a lifetime of looking at her son and she saw his pain but also his understanding. He grasped her hand and led her in the direction of the door. The cool air hit her hard and she wavered on the spot, Connor holding her upright.

'I've really let you down, haven't I?' she asked. Her voice sounded hoarse after the club.

He shook his head and squeezed her hand. 'No, look, I should've trusted you more. This isn't easy. Accepting me or...the rest of it.'

'But I want it to be,' she insisted, cupping his cheek. 'I love you, Connor, for who you are. You're what's important to me, above everything else.' Pulling him into her arms, she felt him yield to her for the first time since her affair with Des. 'I've been such a fool.'

He drew back and questioned, 'You wanna make it up to me by taking me back in there?'

'I'm not sure I'm in the mood,' she replied.

The smirk on his face was his own lovable insolence, not the stranger she'd seen in the past year. How long had he been struggling in his own personal hell? As long as Sam had been struggling in hers? Not for the first time in the last day, Sheelagh felt completely dense. Then again, she'd been in her own hell during the past twelve months. If she'd been forced to confront all this on top of that... Well, she would've lost Sam because she simply wouldn't have been able to cope with it all. And then, of course, she wouldn't have made it through. She firmly believed that the only reason she'd survived Niamh's death and everything else Des had brought to her door had been thanks to Sam but, more than that, she was beginning to believe it was part of God's plan for her. How could it be anything else?

Connor took her hand and nudged her back towards the club. 'We'll see, come on. Come on.'

With one hand on her spine, he launched her through the doors, and she couldn't help but giggle. The release felt good after the last couple of days.

Her burst of energy lasted for a couple of songs. She danced with Connor then Mark cut in and swept her away. It was enjoyable and she didn't remember when she'd felt this at ease with herself. Maybe that was wrong – she felt at ease with Sam, but this was the first time she'd realised why.

The song ended and she finally gave up the pretence of energy. When she returned to the bar Connor had got her a large glass of red and led her to a quiet table in the corner.

'You look exhausted, Mum,' he pointed out.

'You mean I look terrible,' she shot back.

He grinned, more himself than she'd seen him for months. 'Well, yeah. So how do you think Dad's gonna react?'

'Oh, he'll do that face he always does,' she answered. 'I'm sure he'll blame me for a little while. But he'll come round. He loves you, Connor, for all his faults.'

'And what about the rest of the family?' he pressed anxiously.

'We'll worry about them tomorrow,' she said.

Beyond his shoulder she'd caught sight of Lance and Mark kissing. It threw her a little, though she didn't know why. Connor followed her gaze and reached across to her arm.

'Are you okay?' he asked.

'Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine,' she muttered.

He looked at her seriously. 'Have you thought what you're going to do?'

'It's been quite a week, Connor,' she replied.

'Don't avoid the question,' he retorted.

Smiling at his persistence, she sipped her wine and thought about it. Eventually, she said, 'It's complicated.'

'I know that,' he said. 'In some ways it is anyway. But, Mum, anyone spending thirty seconds with the pair of you can see what's going on.'

'Funny,' she said with a shake of her head, 'I didn't.'

Connor gazed at her sympathetically. 'You didn't want to, did you? I know that feeling. I couldn't handle it at first; I just wanted to ignore it. It's worse for you though. You've been married for years; you've never thought about it.'

She stared at him. 'Did you do a degree in psychology when I wasn't looking as well?'

'Let's just say, you weren't the only one not sleeping much last night,' he answered. 'When I realised you hadn't seen it, I stopped blaming you. I thought you were being a hypocrite, but you weren't. You were scared.'

'So was she,' Sheelagh returned softly.

'I like her, you know,' Connor said after a moment.

'Really?' she asked. 'It seemed like you hated her.'

'When I thought you were lying to me, yeah,' he admitted. 'She cares about you though. Siobhan says at the funeral she was brilliant. That made me angrier, I think. That she was involved in all that.'

'That's what I don't understand,' Sheelagh said. 'You were so mad at me for what happened before; you couldn't even look at Niamh. How is this different?'

He shrugged. 'I can't explain but it is. I want you to be happy, Mum, and I think she makes you happy. How can I tell you that I'm gay and then tell you to ignore this?'

Stretching across, she rubbed his cheek again. 'I do love you, Connor.'

'Good,' he replied, 'because I think we're gonna need each other when all this kicks off. We could really do with Sam onside,' he added, quirking his eyebrow. 'From what I know about her, she's great in a crisis. Not that I know much.'

'I'll tell you all about her,' she promised then had to stifle a yawn. 'Tomorrow.'

He pushed her glass over the table. 'Drink up and I'll get you home.'

'Shouldn't that be the other way round?' she asked mildly.

'Just do as you're told,' he retorted.

That night she slept like a log. It would've been a miracle if she hadn't really.

What was a surprise were the dreams. It was as though her subconscious had been let loose and it wanted to explore everything she'd been keeping locked away all these months. When she woke up at half past six, she was almost convinced it was all true and turned over to reach for Sam. Then she came back into herself and let out a long sigh. They were so far away from that and she didn't have a clue how to change it.

Leaving Connor to be woken by his own alarm, she bumbled around and got herself ready for work. It seemed to take three times longer than usual, no doubt thanks to her drifting off halfway through making the coffee then spreading pasta sauce on her toast instead of raspberry jam. Given how distracted she was, it was amazing she made it to work in one piece.

Smithy ran the briefing, apparently a little confused about Gina's whereabouts. Reading between the lines – and with what she knew about the reconciliation with Jonathan – Sheelagh couldn't help but think that Gina Gold might be putting herself first for a change. If she could manage it then perhaps there was hope for Sam.

Paired with Tony, they were on their way out of the nick when they passed Gina and Jonathan in the corridor. Though she exchanged an amused look with Tony, Sheelagh had no intention of saying anything that might put her eardrums in jeopardy. However, Gina took it out of her hands.

'Sheelagh?' she called after them. 'Can I have a word?'

Tony patted her shoulder. 'I'll see you in the car.'

A little nervously, Sheelagh followed Gina into her office. The dragon effect was diluted slightly by the look Gina shot Jonathan before the door closed and Sheelagh was able to face her knowing, once more, that the inspector was human and in love.

'How are you doing today?' Gina asked as she sat down.

'Better,' she said honestly then she remembered that she'd left out a few pieces of the puzzle the last twice they'd spoken about this. 'Connor's told me he's gay. That's what made me understand that I... that I love Sam,' she concluded firmly.

Gina raised an eyebrow. 'You sound much more confident about that than you did yesterday.'

'Well, I'm going to have to be, aren't I?' she returned.

'Why do you say that?' Gina questioned. 'Sit.'

She followed the instruction and rested back in the familiar chair. 'I'm scared, Gina,' she admitted. 'This is such a big thing to get my head around.'

'I understand that,' Gina replied. 'Harder for you to accept than her, she always knew it would be.'

Sheelagh hesitated. 'I asked you this the other day and you wouldn't tell me. How long has she known? When did she figure it out? I'm not trying to make you break her confidence, but I need to know what I'm up against here.'

With a grimace, Gina muttered, 'She said it hit her when you told her you were pregnant.'

For a few seconds, Sheelagh was speechless. She remembered that day, of course; with the Jamesons and the case that seemed like a precursor to her own horror story. Sam had struggled to acclimatise to the news but then she'd taken over and looked after her. Just as she had done every day afterwards; though, if Sheelagh thought about it, there were palpable moments of discomfort. When she'd realised that the Super knew about her and Des, for instance, there'd been something plainly visible now as jealousy. Even so, Sam had encouraged her to make a go of it with Des if that's what she wanted or return to Patrick if that was best. It was a strange combination of selflessness and fear, she recognised now – selflessness because she loved her and fear because she knew what the alternative might entail. That Samantha Nixon had battled with this alone for so long wasn't the surprise; no, that came from the guilty realisation that Sheelagh hadn't traced it to its root cause. She'd been so blinkered, such a bad friend, while Sam had been nothing less than her rock.

'Sheelagh?' Gina prompted.

'Sorry.' She physically shook herself. 'Like I said before, I'm scared. All of a sudden, I'm looking at something that I've never even considered and I should turn away but...I can't. I love her,' she repeated, even more firmly than before, 'and that means I can't show an ounce of doubt, not to her. I might be scared of how I feel but she's not – she's scared of what happens next.'

Gina was shaking her head. 'Unbelievable.'

Frowning, she asked, 'What do you mean?'

'Samantha thought you couldn't handle this,' Gina explained, 'yet you've talked yourself round in less than forty-eight hours.

'That was the easy part,' Sheelagh said after a moment. 'Now I have to talk her round.'

Holding up a hand, Gina said, 'I have to ask this. Are you sure?'

She thought of Sam holding her in the hospital after Niamh died. She thought of her undiagnosed jealousy of Peter Cavanaugh and the exhilarated relief she'd felt when Sam had turned up on her doorstep afterwards. She thought of Dennis Weaver and the bomb blast and how scared she'd felt. Then, finally, she thought of Sam's honest and open affection as she'd cooked her scrambled eggs the morning after the whole Cavanaugh mess. Somehow, she couldn't imagine that never happening again, nor could she tear her mind away from the other possibilities it threw up. It was enough to make her flush as she met Gina's eye again.

'I'm sure,' she said. 'I've got to be sure enough for both of us.'